Manticore after the attack
Max was scared. She was lying strapped to the hospital bed listening to the heartbeat coming from her brother's heart that was now beating rhythmically inside her chest. She couldn't believe that he was dead, that she was alive, imprisoned, and soon to be tortured or re-indoctrinated. All her life, the one thing she feared above all, was now a reality. The only possible exceptions being that Logan was still alive, save and without injury, or so she hoped. Did he make it out in time? She was contemplating his fate when the door to her room opened and three people approached. They were wearing white lab coats each with his ID tagged to his front pocket.
The one that entered first didn't even look at her he just walked by and started fiddling with something in the drawers on her right hand side. The other two approached with emotionless expressions and started pulling at her clothes to examine the wound on her chest. 'Bastards could have at least sent a woman', Max thought dis-heartedly, 'but typically in Manticore style they sent a group of men to attend to my needs'.
She could feel the colour rising in her face as they pulled her front open. They must have forgotten that they were dealing with a deadly killing machine. Distracted by their examination, Max saw an opportunity and lashed out to the one on her right biting painfully into the flesh of his left arm. She shoved her left knee in the other's groin but due to the restraints she couldn't apply enough force and he easily deflected the blow.
"Shit, she's got my arm! Sedate her, sedate her!" The man with the half eaten arm yelled while he struggled to free himself from the bite. In sheer desperation, while the others were frantically searching for syringes and anaesthesia, he punched Max in the face only to receive more pressure from her jaw.
"Dammit hurry!" he yelled to the others.
"We're coming just hold on" said the first doctor casually pulling the plastic covering from a syringe.
Max was trying frantically to loosen the restraints on her right leg in order to kick out at the other men. The movement was painful and she could feel the stitches on her chest pulling taunt and retracting as she frantically twisted and pulled at the restraints. The taste of blood caused her to want to gag but she resisted keeping her jaw locked. She concentrated all her efforts on breaking the restraints but they just wouldn't give.
"Come on man hurry up!"
The one with the syringe seemed to extract the liquid anaesthesia with deliberate slowness from the bottle as if he was taunting her. Max decided to ignore him and continued her struggle but her efforts were fruitless as she felt the needle with the sedating liquid plunge into her flesh. The doctor didn't even bother with subtleties and stuck the needle into her leg that was closest to him striking the bone. Max moaned softly, knowing that she was doomed.
"Sweet dreams bitch!" he said with a light chuckle.
"Stop standing around and get her off me before she bites my arm off!"
"Stop moaning, she can't bite your arm off. Look she just took a piece of skin. Hope it leaves a scar, serves you right, next time you'll be more careful" said the first doctor without sympathy. His voice was far and distant and Max tried to discern what they were saying next but she was already entering the black void.
Logan wasn't quite himself yet, although slightly better. After the attack on Manticore, and watching Max die in his arms, he had fallen into a state of hopeless depression. For weeks he would either work himself into a coma or sit and stare dispiritedly into a glass of whisky until he was too drunk to even care. Everyone just left him alone, to let him grieve Max in peace. But he was not at peace. His mind and emotions were a mess. He wasn't sure if he was sad or angry, perhaps lonely or all of the above. The only emotion he was sure of was regret. Regret that he did not have a chance to really be with the woman he loved, to tell her he loved her and to hear her say it back. But after some time Logan realised that regret would not bring her back.
He had to live his life in her memory and do whatever he could to ensure that those she loved were safe and unharmed. To protect them and others who couldn't protect themselves he had to use the only resource he had available to him, his alter ego, eyes only. There was just one small problem, he was running low on funding, actually he was close to being completely broke. The booze was partly to blame so he got up, threw the remaining whisky down the drain and decided that the next morning he was going to go out and do something he hasn't done in years. He was going to go look for a job and do what had to be done. If Max was alive she would have been proud.