“Please be careful, don’t let your heart and mind stay at war. All the things that cause you pain, well it seems they all were knocking at your door.” “ Carl Thomas, “Rebound”
Warning: Contains violence, strong language and strong racial overtones.
Summary: The Bastard. The Beloved. The fucking Betrayal.
Movieverse, Ro/Lo, post X2.
Rememory, part four
The only thing Logan will allow between he and her now is the road.
The road.
The beloved. The road. The burn.
The road. The distance. The speed.
The Interstate. The toll. The Bridge.
The City. The Drive. The Exit.
The traffic. The neighborhood. The side street.
The familiarity. The apartment. The exhale. Home. He is home. Home to Her.
The dismount. The stretch. The glance. From the alley, the view of the entrance. At the entrance he sees the doorway. At the building... The woman. His woman. He is home.
The warm ache of the belly with the recognition... The Beloved. His Beloved. Home.
The elation. The quick step forward... The stranger. A stranger. The stranger at the doorway. He closes the door like it wasn’t so strange. The stranger’s so familiar. Familiar to her. But not to Logan.
Logan’s confusion. His pause. His bewilderment. His inner denial to his eyes’ truth. Truth? His darkening eyes. His stare. The stare.
The Beloved... with a Stranger. And Logan burns.
Her smile. Her giggle. His whisper. His lips near her ear. And she laughs. His smile. His hand. The small, her back. Their stroll. Her hair. The breeze. His fingertips on her elbow to the cross of the street.
Their respectful distance. His stolen squeeze. Their smiles. Their hands; they hold.
Logan burns.
With the fist. The sneer. The knot of the belly. The growl. The follow. The watching. The bewilderment. He sees them lag with their stroll. Here’s the avenue. Turn the corner. To an alley. An alley...
Logan burns.
That Bastard.
That bastard’s grin. His swagger. His self-assuredness. His gestures. His jokes. Her laughs -at his jokes? Logan burns. He burns at the bastard’s tall gait, winking brown eyes, warm tan hand- Her deep brown shoulder.
Into the alley. They go to a door. With the open comes the music and the smoke. And they are laughing. (They all are laughing.) And the bastard, he guides her inside. And then they enter into the music, and the laughter. Logan’s woman. Then door starts to close and then just an alley. And Logan.
The Burn.
Logan halts and then stares. His confusion, his bewilderment. And he churns while he rationalizes and he bargains with his eyes. And he’s angry while empty while torn while compressed. And then within him, the growl and the fire mixes the burn. But there’s hope within the outrage and there’s denial amongst the rage. And so he lingers, in the alley as he waits. And he waits. And he watches by the door for the door to open. But with that door, when it opens, will another door within him close? But he waits. And he waits. And as he waits, comes the door...
The door, it opens. Out comes the music and the laughter. There’s that Bastard with some company. Two friends. Two men. And that bastard presents a cigarette. Then he lights, and he drags. And with a long satisfied exhale, he leans and he grins. And all Logan sees is this bastard who was with his woman.
It’s all peaked inside him now and heightened: the fire and the burn. All he is the the flame and the inferno, the growl and the heat. His knuckles they burn and they itch for action. He’s all action now as he moves towards the bastard with barely a moment.
The bastard had no time to see or prepare. His friends back off instinctively startled as if by a bomb. And Logan has him now against the wall, hard on the wall. All the while his hands are on fire and pressing on racing throat. And it burns. And they burn...
The Beloved. The Bastard. The Burn.
The Burn.
Logan burns.
And in the alley... They- Go
.
Logan bares his teeth and growls in fury as his fingers clench and close over the Bastard’s throat. The body he holds so fiercely he slams against the alley wall, barely registering the loud ‘OOF’ of the wind being knocked out of the other’s lungs. As the object of his fury is momentarily stunned, Logan can feel the speeding pulse held under his fingertips. His menacing sneer widens as his victim’s reactive confused and frantic struggling is useless. With each desperate pant to replace violently stolen oxygen Logan hears, he feels his own carefully crafted control slipping. The red brick mental wall Logan has spent years building and maintaining between ‘He’ and ‘Him’, only to open the gate between the two when necessary, starts to crack and loosen. It’s either Logan or ‘The Wolverine’ who will deal with this outrage. Right now both are working in tandem and in one thought.
The Bastard. His Beloved. The fucking betrayal.
The startled brown eyes across from Logan’s darkening grays widen in surpise and question. Caught off guard and struggling, the prey with the light brown hands paw and claw at his attacker’s forearm and wrist firmly attached to his abused neck. The stranger’s once well worn cool exterior is shaken with his abrupt slam against the wall. His sharply dress-slacked legs and gator covered feet kick out from underneath him trying to gain some firm ground now that he’s the focus of a two-handed grip, slightly lifted and mostly choked. He swings and flails in some weak semblance of defense “ yet he does not connect progressively with the hits. Logan’s grip impossibly tightens. The other gasps for air. The menthol smoking Cassanova’s two friends are left agape and somewhat helpless. They look around in confusion and alarm along with the others who just happened by the scene. But none join in for their comrade’s defense.
It’s a theatre of reality’s absurdity. Two men in an alley outside a club locked in a heated confrontation. One in a severe disadvantage merely on the strength of his race and genetic makeup, the combination of which makes him socially unwelcome. Logan pulls him then pushes suddenly, slamming the guy into the wall again for good measure. His hairs stand in anticipation. The one at the end of his wrath has no idea how deep the disadvantage goes. Jim Crow’s been retired but its still social in its security and whoever sees this fight and has a problem with it is not Logan’s care nor issue. This fool could try to hit back “ and Logan wishes he would - even though there may be consequences for dickless here to consider outside this alley. Doesn’t mean two shits to Logan.
Logan eyes the rapid race of the throat before him. So close. So easy. He could crush his windpipe as easily as an aluminum can - and he wants to. He can bash his brain into bran, collapse his skull like a overripe pumpkin - and he can’t wait to. Slowly gut him like a pig on a spit - all in due time. Logan has this bastard now. He’s his like she is his. This bastard. Logan has him. Got ‘him’. The asshole with the musky, cigarette smoke mixed with sandalwood scent Logan can pick out from thousands. ‘Him’ who has been close enough to Logan’s woman for her to carry his smell when Logan comes home to her. And Logan came home to find his woman in the company of this sonovabitch, guiding her with his hand on her hip to some jazz playing dive off of some alleyway.
The Bastard. His Beloved. Logan burns.
Logan wants to, he anticipates to, all in due time. But first Logan decides he should know his name. Know the name of the cocksucker who thought he had the balls - Logan will soon have them mounted above his TV to gloat over while watching hockey.
“What the fuck? Man, do I know you?” Bastard shouted with a half-confused plea. His eyes darts as he quickly tries to recount what possible slights he did recently could have his back thrown up against the club’s outer wall in broad daylight.
“What the fuck are you doing with my girl?” Logan demands in a growl from between his bared teeth.
“Your girl?” His eyes slightly furrow with slow recognition, “‘Re?” His brown eyes start to crease deeper as two adds with two into an obvious answer.
Logan’s stomach wound churns with the tone in the guy’s voice when he uttered Logan’s nickname for her. His face reacts in kind as his eyes squeeze together willing himself not to completely lose it, at least not- right- now.
“Pretty casual with her given name, aren’t you, Asshole?” Logan utters between clenched teeth. He presses him harder against the wall and leans closer sneer to gape. He could crush and slice so easily, this fucking breathing piece of meat. Just how familiar IS this sonovabitch with ‘Re anyway?
“Where is she and who the FUCK are you?” Logan continues to growl slow, deep and purposeful. Two shy from unintelligible grunts. The mental wall is being pushed and clawed from the other side.
Pressed between a physical wall of brick and a wall of muscle, and although obviously in the position of disadvantage, Captain Misplaced Confidence starts to smirk in amazement, his suspicions confirmed.
“You’re ‘him’, aren’t you? Yeah, Lone-Gone,” the smirk widens into an amazed smile. Finally, a face to the name. His competitor identified, vying for the same prize. Mockingly, contender number two spews out the variation of Logan’s name like a taunt, an old punch line between drinking buddies. Yeah, he grins in challenge, he’s been thinking about the boyfriend just as much as Logan has the challenger. “Son of a bitch,” the rival mumbles in wonder. Finally, after all this time.
The tightly packed bricks of Logan’s mental wall continue to crumble at the mortar. Logan expected fear, pleading, urine in shorts at this confrontation, not a smirking face daring him. The misplaced cockiness to the conflict and his potential danger infuriates him.
“Watch your mouth, Bub.”
“Boy?” the contender screeches a few octaves higher. An age-old insult was perceived behind Logan’s words. Not Logan’s spoken intention, but he is still pleased with the result. “I ain’t no mother fucking boy. I’m the MAN taking care of your WOMAN while your punk ass has been ghost,” he spits out in retort. Bastard shoves at the shoulders of the imposing figure instead only moving Logan’s shirt. The loose flannel opens revealing leather straps, holster hugging the ribcage.
In their breathy struggle, they barely register the panicked scuffle of shoes and the banging of the door being thrown open as someone rushes inside.
With the discovery of the weapon, Captain Cassanova’s head wrenches back and he looks over Logan with a raised eyebrow and his own sneer, feigning unconcern and bravado.
“What? You gotta piece on you or something, Man?” his voice went down to its regular deep street octave, laced with confidence, posturing, no outward hint of fear. But Logan can sense the other sees now the potential danger; this could end up being more than just a shoving match over ego and a pretty face.
Logan’s threatening countenance intensifies in his groin-shifting enjoyment of this sweet torture. So close, so easy. He loves it when they have no fucking clue how close they are to the devil. Those final seconds before the epiphany when the face of horror replaces ignorance are so fucking priceless. Logan leans in closer, barely breathing on his face.
“Trust me, I don’t need a gun for assholes like you,” Logan faintly chuckles in taunt. Anxious to literally prove his point, Logan rears his right arm back firming his hold with his left. He prepares the mother of all fists into this guy’s overconfident face.
This BASTARD. The burn. The Belo-
The forward fist staggers in mid-air. Logan’s eyes widen.
The heavy metal door to the club slams open and a cacophonous gumbo of horns, bass and piano keys come spilling out. A heavy set woman with dark skin and orange lipstick holds the door open with an outstretched arm. Following behind her is ‘Re, her white hair continues forward over her face with her abrupt stop at the sight before her.
“Logan?” she utters in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes dart to both men in alarm, trying to understand the position they are in.
Logan turns his head to look at her still holding Bastard firmly. The other releases his anticipatory cringe to find himself looking straight at the fist that stopped less than a foot from his face.
Logan’s throat goes dry at the sight and confirmation of her. Oh God, it IS ‘Re. Not that there were many blue eyed, deep brown, white-haired African women running around New York City but in his startled mind he was hoping it was a trick. An insane figment of his imagination. ‘Re. His ‘Re. What the hell is she doing here? His mind starts swimming with insane questions of this insane moment. Why is she here? With him? Without Logan?
He feels his chest starting to tighten as the tension in his stomach muscles lessen. No. He intensifies his sneer and turns back to the third element in this puzzle. Him first, then her. Him he can deal with, and deal with slow and painful. Logan will have to figure out what happened with his woman after he gets rid of this uninvited third party.
“What are you doing here, ‘Re?” he speaks while looking directly back into the bastard’s eye. DO something stupid. Look at her wrong. Any excuse, please.
“Logan, please. What’s going on?” ‘Re questions in alarm, her voice shaky with fear. She sees the scene before her. Her escort to the club held up against the brick wall by Logan’s hand on his neck while bystanders stand by and around. She sees the face of fury and determination on Logan. Her alarm is heightened. Only she and Logan know how dangerous the situation could escalate to. No, she says to herself as she moves slowly towards them. Not here. Not now. She suddenly propels herself forward to the men to prevent further madness. She does not know what set Logan off, but she must stop this now. She goes behind Logan, trying to pull him away by his shoulders. “Logan, just stop. Let him alone.”
“Is this him?” Logan asks, shrugging her off and punctuating his question by slamming the rival’s body with both hands against the wall. With each slam comes a reactive groan of pain from the other.
“Him?” she tries to understand while flinching at the violence, confused by the aggressive action. “What are you talking about?” She repositions herself beside the two engaged in confrontation. The others watching tut in slight concern, not a place she should be in right now. But none move to guide her away. “Why are you out here like this?” she continues, trying to distract him by trying to put herself in his line of sight.
“The cheap cologne,” Logan lists with a slam. “The stink of menthol cigarettes.” Slam. “Is this HIM?” he shouts louder coupled with a harder slam that bounces Mr. Menthol’s head against the wall.
“Arrgh! Go fuck yourself, Man!” ‘Him’ shouts in reaction to the slams, batting Logan on the side of his shoulder.
“Yes!” she screams in frustration. Her efforts to distract are not working. She sees who’s quickly coming into control. Now fully between the two, facing Logan, she tries to coax his fingers from around the throat. “Yes, Logan,” she answers again, this time speaking in a more controlled tone. “But he’s just a friend.”
“Yeah, man,” chuckles the end of Logan’s hand with raised eyebrows. “A ‘friend’,” he finishes with a smirk. Logan growls louder at his sarcasm.
Every cell in Logan’s body is inflamed. His gut is burning and his head is starting to ache. That brick wall within him is quaking, the cracks along it - weakening it “ are lengthening. Logan now has the body to go with the smell. The brown eyes to go with the cologne. He has the face. Now all Logan needs is the name. Then he’ll provide the body.
“What’s the asshole’s name?” he growls, his bared white teeth drying exposed to open air.
“Lone-Gone,” the chuckler quickly shoots back. There’s always room for more sarcasm. “OOF!” his body replies as Logan just as quickly reacts to the insult, slamming him again.
“Logan, please!” ‘Re screams while stealing a quick pained glance at her friend. She then puts her left hand on Logan’s outstretched shoulder while still holding the wrist by her friend’s throat with the other. She speaks the name slowly as she looks at Logan, her eyes begging for the end to this.
“His name is David.”
“David,” Logan repeats the name low. He lets the consonants play between his tongue and palate. Runs the vibrations through his mouth. He licks his lips in anticipation.
His name is David.
“Yeah, David,” her friend reconfirms with attitude. “Nice to meet you. Kiss my ass.”
“Stop it!” she reprimands in a forceful whisper towards David. “That’s enough of this!” David looks back at her with brief annoyance and concern at her involvement. She could get hurt, and this is definitely not the position David wants her to see him in. ‘Re softens her eyes and turns back to Logan, trying to find an angle to snap him out of his rage.
“Logan,” she starts with more gentleness in her voice, “Nothing good can come of this.” Maybe she can talk him out the alley with no further trouble. Maybe try some reason, or perhaps-
Nothing good, a voice grumbles in slight amusement in Logan’s head.
Logan turns to her and sneers deeper. Nothing good is all he sees right now. There was the breath of jasmine, the laughter of music, the smile he has kept in his mind’s periphery for weeks. But he just now saw her smile without him, enjoying time with this- this David. No, not good, he repeats to himself. He looks deeper into the face of the woman he thought he knew. He feels salt water gather between his teeth. Women, they- they…
They can caress the soft places within you never thought you had then rip out the pieces just to… just to…
In his barely contained rage and outrage, Logan quickly blinks back his red rimmed eyes while staring straight at her.
“Who… the FUCK… is David?”
‘Re’s head snaps back in quiet shock at the question. She gets it now. She now realizes the magnitude of what he has been thinking. How could she have been so naïve? She steps further away from David and closer to Logan, putting herself in full view to block Logan’s of David. She talks softer now, more intimate, trying to make Logan realize with her words and proximity where her heart truly lays.
“He’s not ‘Logan’,” she answers calmly, punctuating his name with her raised brow and a slight smile. He emits a loud growl at the answer, not satisfied. Behind her, David’s brows furrow at the couple’s exchange. Unabated by Logan’s grunts, ‘Re continues to try to soothe Logan back to her.
“I am happy to see LOGAN. Are you happy to see me?” she questions with a tilted head and a forced smile, her eyes still reflects her anxiety. Standing off to the side are two of David’s friends. The taller, darker of the two raises his eyebrow as he watches this strange spell the woman is casting on the irate man with just her words and her smile.
“Yes, you are,” ‘Re nods as if in confirmation. She rubs the arm that’s attached to David softly as if to knead the muscles into releasing its tension. Logan’s eyes never leave her, assessing for any possible deception behind her words. “Let’s let go of him now, okay? Let’s go home now. I’m glad you are here,” she adds lightly.
Logan only growls in reply. His look intensifies and he turns back to David who flinches in Logan’s change. Logan’s fingers on brown skin clench. He has no intention of letting the bastard go. Smell. Face. Name. Body. That was the plan.
“Hey!” ‘Re’s voice sharpens as she moves her head in reaction to Logan’s, not allowing him to lose her view. Her tone softens as she regains his attention. “Hey… Let’s go home.”
Successful in blocking Logan’s sight of David, she rubs the side of his face with the hand that was on his shoulder while gently prying his fingers off David’s throat. Now fully engaged with her touch, her sight and her smell which has been amplified by the raised body heat of her distress, Logan’s face starts to soften. She continues to softly croon and his grip starts to loosen. Startled by the turn of events, David finds himself being slowly lowered back to the ground. ‘Re replaces Logan’s hold of David’s throat with her hand, silent in her relief of being able to cajole Logan’s release and starts to lead him away.
As he is lowered, David finds his feet while rubbing his neck to massage away the violence. Stumbling forward supporting himself with his hand on his knee, he coughs and sputters while watching the couple walk away. The bystanders part before them with either curious or amused looks on their faces. David’s two friends join him, patting his back in concern. The shorter and heavier of the three comrades starts chattering, amazed and recounting the events.
“What the hell was that? Yo, Black- that was some shit! Munny, you okay? You cool? Yo, Black, you saw how he-?” The smaller one continues prattling in amazement while Black keep his eye warily on the parting duo, his hand companionably on David’s shoulder.
David ignores both the chatter and the fraternal presence while his eyes also follow ‘Re leaving with ‘him’. The couple are steps from the entrance of the alleyway, the long brick corridor opening to the street ahead. As the people continue to part, passing cars can be seen while in the foreground ‘Re continues to whisper close to Logan’s ear reaching up to his height to stroke his head, fisting his dark, wild hair.
David looks after them in perplexed infuriation. No. Not like this. He finally got to see the guy ‘Re has been telling him about every time David dared to get closer to her. This woman whose smile never quite left him that first day he happened by her in that park. He always wondered what kind of man could both possess such a creature yet never be around enough to show her off properly. The idiot, David had always chuckled to himself. Never knowing what type of woman he had, taking her for granted.
But now he’s seen “heh- Lone-Gone and he knows this ‘boyfriend’ of hers is crazy. Hell, okay… Any self-respecting man would toss table and shove broken glass against the throat of anyone pushing up on his girl. But David grinds his teeth recalling that look in Logan’s eye. Barely controlled fury behind the dark black pupils. Something just beneath the surface that was inherently dangerous and borderline insane. He’s seen that look of dark, unabashed brutality in a man’s eye before. David knows the face of indifferent cruelty and he won’t let THAT face walk off with ‘Re. No, David determines as his face screws into focused determination and he straightens to follow behind them. No, this won’t end like this. And besides, it takes more than threats and some strong arming to keep a Munroe down.
Logan allows himself to be led out of the brick laid hallway by ‘Re with his eyes closed and holding his forehead in his hand. Mother FUCKER. What the fuck is going on? He looked into ‘Re’s eyes as she told him what’s what with that- that- His face clenches back up in anger when he remembers the asshole smirking at him like he knew a secret and that secret started with the words ‘your girl and I’. That bastard.
‘Re felt Logan’s body stiffen and slow as if he was preparing to turn back. She holds him tightly by his arms and tries to lead him further out the area. She looks ahead at the sunlight and the street. Children gathering in front of the Five & Dime across the roadway, hopping, chanting and banging their palms against the glass window trying to get the storekeeper’s attention. So close now, she chants to herself. Almost there. She’ll get him home, calm him down and explain the misunderstanding to him. So close to the street now. They were so close to another bad episode. Thank goodness that’s finished with no-
“So this is him? The fabled Logan?” David chides behind the departing couple.
Logan abruptly stops in reaction to the mocking tone. ‘Re releases a short disappointed gasp as she grits her teeth in anxiety. They were so close. A few more steps to the street ahead. She almost got him out of there and out of danger.
“Blows in and out of town, leaving his woman all alone,” David continues spurred on by his regained attention. He starts towards them with arms gesturing in cocky motions with his taunts. “All ready to lay claim the second he decides to show his face.”
The growl begins within Logan. The vibrations to the low rumble echoing in ‘Re’s chest. No, please not here, she prays as she looks at Logan cautiously with worry. Logan bares his teeth and grinds them as he quickly turns around to face David. His body starting to slump and curve into an aggressive stance. ‘Re quickly puts her hand on his chest in a weak attempt to contain him and she furrows her face at David in severe annoyance.
“Stop this! This is not the time. We have to-“
“No, this IS the time,” David quickly interrupts while not taking his eyes off of Logan’s. “We gotta catch him when we can, right Long-Gone?”
A snicker is heard in the periphery from one of the two friends of David’s who were never quite that far from the action. They shadow him with every movement, just off to the side, keeping track of the situation.
“Be quiet, please!” she is almost begging now but more imploring in anger. She straightens her arm in David’s direction holding her palm up as if she could make him stop his forward movement. Logan’s body tenses in anticipation. David does not acknowledge her gesture. The men’s eyes are locked. David audaciously narrows the distance between them.
“Are you just here to give her a quick pat on the fanny before ripping off again?” David questions with a cocky side nod to his head and raised eyebrow. He gestures to his friends in jest. “Watch it! Don’t let him catch anyone near his ‘piece’ or else its heads busting time… is that how it goes?” he chuckles.
“All this shit you’re talking right now is not helping your ass,” Logan grumbles in retort, taking one lumbering step toward David. The sneer has traces of a smile. It’s back. Like the warm burn in the chest from a downed scotch. “Not one fucking bit.”
“Logan, just ignore him. Please,” ‘Re pleads in a low whisper to him. “Not here. Don’t hurt him.”
Without leaving his brazen gaze on Logan, David sucks his teeth at the concept and brushes off the notion with streetwise intonations. “Hurt me? Man, he just caught me off guard and shit. So, what? She’s your side piece or something?”
‘Re gasps at the comment and quickly snaps her head towards David in shock. Her quick head movements between David and Logan starts to loosen the once neat upsweep of the upper portion of her hair. Tendrils of ivory start to escape the lightly fastened half knot. The large light purple blossom fastened at its apex starts to nod downwards, losing its anchored position.
Logan’s fists clench tighter and his knuckles start to whiten. He takes that last taunt from David as more of an insult to her than to him and the wall within him loses a couple more bricks from the top.
“You sonovabitch,” he warns between his teeth. David’s friend Black shifts his weight to his other leg uncomfortably while David’s smirk widens to a smile, pleased with Logan’s infuriated response. Black knows David likes to push and push just to see how far he can take a situation. Plenty of times Black had to pull an irrational, enraged guy off his laughing friend when David pressed all the right buttons in the proper order to make the other snap.
“Keeping your chocolate loving in Harlem? Too embarrassed to show her off to the whities downtown?” David threw out at Logan’s anger-strained face.
Logan barely stifled a roar in response. Now that one bit. Bit too close for comfort. Different levels of mixed emotions started to wash over Logan, guilt and frustration above all. It hasn’t been easy for the couple to be together in public. The looks, the whispers. The occasional insult leading to a fight. But to have this sonovabitch throw it in his face on top of everything…? More bricks within him fall.
“It’s not like that!” ‘Re shout surprises the both of them, fully stepping up to David and confronting him with her outrage. David looks at her in confusion as if he didn’t know she was there and then his look falls to concern and regret. He forgot that remark would hurt her as much as it would gnaw at Logan. It takes two to be part of a couple. Two against the world that couldn’t see past black and white. David’s mouth then thins at her constant defense of the hard panting Neanderthal who just one minute before had him thrown up against the wall like a child. Obviously she doesn’t see what he sees..
“Oh, how you know, ‘Re?” he says with annoyance. As he gets more emotional his comfortable street drawl grows thicker and more pronounced. “Where he be at this whole time? Where he coming from now?”
“Stop putting shit in my girl’s head,” Logan steps in, trying to get ‘Re out of the ‘conversation’. He attempts to position her away in case they decide to get physical again.
“Your WOMAN’s head is screwed on pretty tight if she wants to be the hell away from your never around ass,” David barks forcefully, his full attention back on Logan, waiting for the wrong movement from Logan for the right punch from David. Fuck it all now.
“Looks like to me she’s passing time with you, coming home with me,” Logan retorts with a sideways smile. David ain’t the only one with a couple of good ones to dish out.
“Alright, this ends!” ‘Re orders loudly, trying to regain control of the rapidly disintegrating situation. She grabs Logan by the shoulder and tugs him towards the street. Unabated, Logan and David maintain their provocative stares.
“Let’s go!” she yells again, frustrated at her lack of attention from them.
Logan and David talk volumes in the cold glares they share. A promise of a really good ass kicking from both sides, they both exchange teeth-baring smirks in anticipation.
Very fucking funny, David thinks as his eyes narrow at Logan. David shifts his position. He always has more verbal ammunition to fight with. He pushes the button every man has. The big red one with the plastic cover over it to prevent accidents. Oh this one won’t be no accident, he grins.
David croons the words slow like maple syrup over velvet. Bedroom voice lounging with Barry White playing in the background. The slower the better, to make the words sting.
“Nah, BABY. We got this, you go back inside, ‘Re.”
David ends it with a smirk. Logan’s eyes widen in-
The rumble is in Logan’s ears. The wall is too weak and collapses under the explosive pressure from the other side. Logan stumbles back and blinks fast trying to regain some sense of sanity, cause he couldn't have heard what he thought he heard. Some say its like ‘blacking out.’ For Logan, everything turns red before his eyes. All he knows is that he must have, no he definitely heard what David said. Logan stutters for a moment then his words are garbled while his cranium roars.
“BABY?”
“Logan! No…” ‘Re’s stomach drops as she slowly steps backwards from Logan. David’s chest meets her back as he watches in amused triumph.
“Did you just call her 'Baby'?!” Logan roars in fury.
So the fuck what? David eyes him in taunt, reveling in reaction. Then his eyebrows knit. First surprise then confusion then “ What the-?
It is proceeded by an inhuman roar from the enraged Logan. Next comes the familiar yet sickening sound like the husking of fresh corn as bone rubs against bone along his forearm, past his wrist and pushes out violently from between his knuckles. The bravado sneer on David’s face quickly falls into shock and disbelief, his eyes grow wide at the folly of Mother Nature. Three long straight protrusions each ending in a gleaming sharp point out of the back of Logan’s hands. White, straight and strong with Logan’s own blood clinging its surface; more blood trails down from his knuckles where the claws have escaped their housing. Three unsheathed bone swords pointing straight at David’s ashen face. Logan grimaces with the burning yet companionable pain his claws’ appearance brings, but it won’t hurt him half as much as it will this asshole when he sinks his bone claws into this smirking, cocky, sonovabitch’s…
--
Bone-?
*SNIKT*
Beneath the white moon against the cobalt canvas, beside the lake whose waters churn and roll in an unseen disturbance, Logan stares wide-eyed and panicked at his unsheathed claws now shining of metal. Bone? His claws were bone? The rememory showed bone. How could this be? He thought…
Sitting close beside him, though she did not react to the claws’ appearance, his guest, his once lover ‘Re, looked at them with curiosity. He stares at her with his mouth agape, panting. What does this mean? Her eyes squint reactively at the moonlight reflected off the metal and hitting her eyes. She then looks at him and is more perplexed by his shaken reaction.
She tilts her head and glares at him with disbelief. “You do remember? Don’t you?”
He stares at her, panting shallow. His head slowly begins to shake ‘no’. Remember? No. Oh, God, he didn’t know. None of this he knew.
He holds his head with his now unfamiliar claws still dangerously unsheathed and pants faster and faster in incredulity and turmoil. The chaos of his mind, his memories and everything he thought was real reflected in the waters before him. Choppy, turbulent, unpredictable.
Everything he knew was wrong. He just assumed. All these years… He only could assume…
--
“Nooooooooo!”
*SNIKT*!
--
In medias res…
[Reviews - 34]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story |
Has been viewed 1387 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story | - Text Size +
You must login () to review.
