The Death of Logan
It was finally over. The weird snake breeding cult was gone forever.
It had been a tense situation. Max, Logan, and Alec had been surrounded by the Conclave and their deadly, venomous serpent co-workers. Dozens of ugly people with super intelligence and inhuman strength threatened to end their lives forever. They began to levitate and spin in circles and dance the hokey-pokey in midair, and it seemed the end was near, but Max flashed her genetically superior, perky boobs at them and all their eyes popped out, causing their bad make-up to run into the eye sockets and making their heads explode.
The snakes, realizing that they wouldn't have to spend their lives biting potential cult members anymore, all slithered off to Florida for a well-deserved retirement.
"Good work, Max," said Logan, his blue eyes sparkling with love and pride. "Your Barbie air bags have destroyed a thousand generations of breeding."
"It's what I'm good at," Max responded. "It's how I was made."
Unfortunately, our three heroes had missed Ames White, who had snuck into the bushes to have inappropriate and somewhat masochistic sex with his assistant Otto. Upon seeing the dead bodies and bad make-up of all of his cult colleagues, White forgot everything he had learned in anger management class and pulled a large gun that was meant to overcompensate for other things from his pocket.
White stared straight into Logan's green eyes and fired. Max shrieked and Alec pursed his sexy lips and furrowed his sexy brow as a bullet ripped into Logan's thigh. But Logan just jumped back up again and scoffed at White, "You idiot! You shot me in the leg! Don't you know I can't feel it? Haven't you read all the inappropriate paraplegic fetish stories written about me?"
"No," White answered, "I only read the stories where I have Max bound up in some dark S&M style basement and then I have inappropriate rape fantasy sex with her. But thanks for the tip." Then White raised his gun and shot Logan a little higher, where he could feel it.
Logan stumbled backwards as a fresh bullet ripped into his shoulder. He was about to stand up again and announce that it was only a flesh wound, when he tripped over a tree root that he couldn't feel and tumbled down a rocky ravine, bashing his head open. On the way down the cliff, he was ripped limb from limb by wild mountain lions, attacked by a swarm of killer bees, and infected by the SARS virus before falling into Puget Sound below and being partially devoured by an orca with rabies. He gave one last, longing, loving glance at Max before having a pulmonary embolism and closing his aquamarine eyes forever.
"Oh my God, they killed Logan!" Max shouted hysterically.
"You bastards!" Alec yelled after White's retreating form, as he raced off to rendezvous with Otto in a more comfortable hotel room and try to track down some of his favorite snakes before they made bad real estate investments.
"My God, Max, I can't believe he's gone," said Alec as he watched the crows and vultures circle the water below them.
"I know, Alec. Wanna make out with me?"
"Sure, why not?" Alec shrugged. And together they had hot, kinky transgenic sex on the edge of the cliff where they eventually placed Logan's headstone as the small ocean scavengers had a feeding frenzy in the water below them.
A/N: This is how I spent my extra daylight savings hour. I don't own any rights to Dark Angel, and I'm not too sure I want to own this story either. Special thanks to Mari for listening to my stupid commentary while I wrote it, though I'm not sure she wants to be associated with it either. Reviews are kind and flames, though mean, are to be expected.