Cammie & Logan: No Fate
May. 27th, 2009 02:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsDuring one of their training sessions, Logan tells Cammie a bit of a story.
Cammie wasn't leaving her room for very much right now, but she wasn't going to weasel out of or try to get different dates for the hand to hand training. She didn't know what to think about a lot of things that had happened the day she had gotten Jake's fingers in the mail. She had taken time off of both her jobs and was now just, she wasn't sure what. But she was very pissed off.
She tried to keep her face impassive as she walked into the room. She liked to think she was doing it well enough. That and the back off aura she tried to project. That or the toxic smell was working. Or it could just be the fact this was the first time she had left her room since Lil had drug her to that stupid train wreck.
"Hey," was all she said. No sarcastic greeting this time.
"Hey." Logan said, distracted as he flowed through the last few moments of his drill on the wooden attacking dummy. He was striking harder than was strictly required, his defenses a little more ragged than was their usual wont. But right now he didn't care. He'd had his fill of the same old song and dance. Scientists and military men wanted to turn old men like him into walking weapons? Fine. His choice, or so Maverick'd once told him. But to drag kids into it really burned him up, pissed him off. He finished up the last set, then turned to look over at Cammie.
"Siddown and stretch out, kid." he told her as he wiped his face with a nearby towel then headed over to where she was. "Before we get started, I'm gonna tell you a little story."
"Oh, story time," Cammie said, but did as she was directed. After all, normally after a quick stretching they progressed right to the point where she got pwnd. Learned a lot, and loved learning it. But she knew that she was not able to kick his ass. "Is it a good story?" she asked, stretching her arms.
Logan settled down on the floor next to where Cammie was stretching out. "Depends on what you like in a story. See, it's about this guy. He's a very bad man - got a temper, you see. Likes to hurt people real bad." he said. "So the guy does what he needs to do to find a place where he can hurt people legally and because the people he's hurting need hurtin'. He joins the Army. But this guy has a secret, one that makes him real valuable to the kind of guys with stars on their collars who plan out wars." he said.
Cammie listened, "Well, that's better than becoming a serial killer," she said simply. "What's the secret?" she knew, or thought she did, but she'd play along. It wasn't like they talked much. So unlike everyone else, who opened their mouth just for the joy joys of hearing themselves talk, she figured Logan was actually trying to say something.
Logan just grinned. "The secret is that he's not like his brother soldiers. He's special. Different. And the brass know it. There's a lot more to the story, but a lot of the details have been lost. See, the guy? They put shit in his body to make him an even better killing machine. But they didn't want him writing letters home or whining about vacation days or getting a girlfriend or, you know, all the shit normal people do. So they went in and took everything away. Wiped him clean so that they could make him the perfect weapon. Unstoppable, loyal, efficient. But something went wrong. The guy went nuts, busted out, fled the scene." he said.
Cammie listened, "So, the military fucked him over and got what was coming to them," she said, sitting back, the bandages on her left arm seemed heavy. "Or did he choose to do it? I mean, either way the wiping clean stuff isn't right." Neither was fucking with someone before they were even born, just because you could.
"It's never that easy. See, the chief guy in charge? Yeah. He got what he deserved, even though the guy wanted him alive. See, he was the only guy that knew. Who could tell him everything." he said. "See, the guy met some real good people who took in the mad wild thing and showed him how to be human again." he said. "Brought him back from the ragged edge. Now the guy's surrounded by people who like to dress in black leather and go out and punch bad people in the face." he said with a faint grin. "It's a living." he said. "And to answer your question, yeah, the guy volunteered to get the shit put in his body." he said. "Least, that's what he was told. Maybe it's true, maybe it isn't. He thinks it is." he said. "There's something right about being a human weapon, something designed to spread pain and terror and death, and using it for something good." he said. "Marie showed me a movie once. Had a line in it that stuck with me. "There is no fate but what we make of it."" he quoted. "Think about it. And get on your feet, we got work to do." he said, bouncing effortlessly to his feet.
"I don't believe in Fate," Cammie said, a faint grin on her face as she stood up, "'Least he got a chance to say yes or no," she said, getting ready to move, "I just hate it when people think it's great to make up our minds for us." In her brooding she had moments where she really, really wanted to turn her southpaw on the person who made it all possible. It was a far cry from the daydreams of who her mother could be she had always had when she was younger.
Cammie wasn't leaving her room for very much right now, but she wasn't going to weasel out of or try to get different dates for the hand to hand training. She didn't know what to think about a lot of things that had happened the day she had gotten Jake's fingers in the mail. She had taken time off of both her jobs and was now just, she wasn't sure what. But she was very pissed off.
She tried to keep her face impassive as she walked into the room. She liked to think she was doing it well enough. That and the back off aura she tried to project. That or the toxic smell was working. Or it could just be the fact this was the first time she had left her room since Lil had drug her to that stupid train wreck.
"Hey," was all she said. No sarcastic greeting this time.
"Hey." Logan said, distracted as he flowed through the last few moments of his drill on the wooden attacking dummy. He was striking harder than was strictly required, his defenses a little more ragged than was their usual wont. But right now he didn't care. He'd had his fill of the same old song and dance. Scientists and military men wanted to turn old men like him into walking weapons? Fine. His choice, or so Maverick'd once told him. But to drag kids into it really burned him up, pissed him off. He finished up the last set, then turned to look over at Cammie.
"Siddown and stretch out, kid." he told her as he wiped his face with a nearby towel then headed over to where she was. "Before we get started, I'm gonna tell you a little story."
"Oh, story time," Cammie said, but did as she was directed. After all, normally after a quick stretching they progressed right to the point where she got pwnd. Learned a lot, and loved learning it. But she knew that she was not able to kick his ass. "Is it a good story?" she asked, stretching her arms.
Logan settled down on the floor next to where Cammie was stretching out. "Depends on what you like in a story. See, it's about this guy. He's a very bad man - got a temper, you see. Likes to hurt people real bad." he said. "So the guy does what he needs to do to find a place where he can hurt people legally and because the people he's hurting need hurtin'. He joins the Army. But this guy has a secret, one that makes him real valuable to the kind of guys with stars on their collars who plan out wars." he said.
Cammie listened, "Well, that's better than becoming a serial killer," she said simply. "What's the secret?" she knew, or thought she did, but she'd play along. It wasn't like they talked much. So unlike everyone else, who opened their mouth just for the joy joys of hearing themselves talk, she figured Logan was actually trying to say something.
Logan just grinned. "The secret is that he's not like his brother soldiers. He's special. Different. And the brass know it. There's a lot more to the story, but a lot of the details have been lost. See, the guy? They put shit in his body to make him an even better killing machine. But they didn't want him writing letters home or whining about vacation days or getting a girlfriend or, you know, all the shit normal people do. So they went in and took everything away. Wiped him clean so that they could make him the perfect weapon. Unstoppable, loyal, efficient. But something went wrong. The guy went nuts, busted out, fled the scene." he said.
Cammie listened, "So, the military fucked him over and got what was coming to them," she said, sitting back, the bandages on her left arm seemed heavy. "Or did he choose to do it? I mean, either way the wiping clean stuff isn't right." Neither was fucking with someone before they were even born, just because you could.
"It's never that easy. See, the chief guy in charge? Yeah. He got what he deserved, even though the guy wanted him alive. See, he was the only guy that knew. Who could tell him everything." he said. "See, the guy met some real good people who took in the mad wild thing and showed him how to be human again." he said. "Brought him back from the ragged edge. Now the guy's surrounded by people who like to dress in black leather and go out and punch bad people in the face." he said with a faint grin. "It's a living." he said. "And to answer your question, yeah, the guy volunteered to get the shit put in his body." he said. "Least, that's what he was told. Maybe it's true, maybe it isn't. He thinks it is." he said. "There's something right about being a human weapon, something designed to spread pain and terror and death, and using it for something good." he said. "Marie showed me a movie once. Had a line in it that stuck with me. "There is no fate but what we make of it."" he quoted. "Think about it. And get on your feet, we got work to do." he said, bouncing effortlessly to his feet.
"I don't believe in Fate," Cammie said, a faint grin on her face as she stood up, "'Least he got a chance to say yes or no," she said, getting ready to move, "I just hate it when people think it's great to make up our minds for us." In her brooding she had moments where she really, really wanted to turn her southpaw on the person who made it all possible. It was a far cry from the daydreams of who her mother could be she had always had when she was younger.
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