The Outcast - Act 4
“Well, this has been a... unique evening,” Pearce said, standing a little uneasily from his stool, “but my suite at the Shangri-la is calling my name.”
“How is that working out, anyway?” Niki said, counting out some bills for their drinks.
“Great,” Pearce nodded, his head bobbing a little more than normal. He had promised himself he wouldn’t drink to excess tonight. He hated making a fool of himself — when he could avoid it. They started out, but Hobbs called them back with a tap on the wad of cash on the bar.
“You paying for that demon too?”
Niki’s attention snapped back together. “What?” She looked around, to make sure he was talking to her. “What demon?”
“Birk,” the barkeep said with an amused grin. “Don’t tell me you and you’re Slayer senses couldn’t see right through him.”
Pearce swayed slightly and shrugged. “I knew he was evil. All geologists are evil. Everyone knows that.” He swayed a little more, taking Niki’s shoulder to steady himself.
“You find it strange that he gave you his business card?” Hobbs said patronizingly. “Even though you don’t happen to be a budding mining company.” This made Niki frown. “He gave it to you because his initials are the only thing that counteract his demon power — to slip from people’s memories.”
Niki looked down at the business card. “So... Logan didn’t remember him... because no one remembers him.”
“But he wants you to remember him,” Hobbs said emphatically, hinting as heavily as he could. Hinting was a much more challenging game when the other players were slightly plastered. “He’s worked himself in as the third member of your little gang...”
Niki’s eyes widened. “Logan,” and she was out the door.
Pearce swayed in her wake for a moment as the doors closed. He squinted at the barkeep. “But how do you know all this?”
Hobbs shrugged dismissively. “I never forget a face.”
Logan dropped to the ground with a bloody nose. “I gotta learn how to fight,” he muttered as the toe came up into his chin, sending him onto his back.
“You’re useless, Logan,” Birk smiled down at him in the early morning haze. “You can’t fight, you’re not loved – you should just step aside and let the heroes be.”
“Fuck you,” Logan retorted, rolling through the grass to pull Birk’s ankle from under him. The man in the carmine shirt went down and Logan was back on his feet, looking around for something to use as a weapon. He quickly removed his blazer and raised his fists as Birk got to his feet.
Before Birk could turn around, Logan planted a series of punches to the back of the blue vest, between the shoulder blades. Birk didn’t even flinch. He turned around and snatched one of Logan’s wrists, whirling him around like a child might a doll.
The lawyer landed hard on the grass a dozen feet away, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. He stubbornly raised his fists again, but Birk shrugged, pityingly.
“Logan... you moron,” Birk said shaking his head. “Give up. Go home. Call it a day and live your life. Leave them to me.”
Logan was sweating and his ribs hurt from the punches he hadn’t been able to avoid, but something caught his eye and he grinned. “I’ll leave them to you,” he chuckled. “Here they come to kick your ass.”
Birk’s head whipped around as Niki and Pearce appeared around a bend in the path. Logan’s smile passed from him to the demon. “Idiot: They’re not coming to rescue you – they’re coming to help me, their new friend.”
Logan’s gaze moved quickly between the two approaching figures, still at a distance, and the dark figure before him, not a trace of injury on him. Not a trace. “You’r not human,” he observed, recalling the way he had been tossed like a rag doll.
Birk shrugged. “None of your concern,” he moved forward and Logan lashed out with a punch, realizing too late that Birk was going to allow the blow, for effect. He went down with exaggerated cries of pain and now holding a suddenly bloody nose.
Logan frowned. “You son of a—”
“–Logan!” Niki called as she began to run down the path towards the pair.
Logan looked about quickly, knowing if he was abandoned —replaced by this demon— Niki’s life might be in danger. She couldn’t be allowed to trust someone like Birk. As hypocritical as the thought was —coming from him— Logan feared for her safety in the demon’s company.
He stepped over in a flash to his blazer and wrapped it around the neck of the kneeling, grinning Birk. The grin disappeared as Logan twisted the ends of the brown blazer around the back of the demon’s neck, tightening the loop. Even if seeing this act might lead Niki to kill him, at least Birk would be out of the picture. As he wound the knot tighter, he smiled. What a selfless thing to do, he mused.
As Niki approached, ready to snap Birk’s neck, Logan was fighting Birk’s struggles and choking the demonic life out of him. Her heart raced as the scene of violence transpired. Pearce came up beside her, watching as Logan turned Birk’s face purple.
The struggling went on for several minutes with Niki just watching her lover grip tighter, twist harder and shove his knees into the demon’s shoulders. Sweat poured off the lawyer’s brow and he strained to keep his grip on the improvised noose, but soon the demon stopped struggling. And Niki had just stood there. Part of him was confused. Was she going to kill him or kiss him?
Letting go of the jacket sleeves, he let the body fall to the grass. He wiped his brow and looked down at the sweat stains on his shirt. He surely wouldn’t have managed to kill the bastard if Birk hadn’t honestly believed Niki and Pearce would help him. That meant he hadn’t been lying. One way or another, Niki had been out to replace him.
With a final sigh, he picked up his jacket and beat the wrinkles out of it, slinging it over his shoulder and turning to the pair who watched his every move. The burning resentment was evident in his eyes and found only shame when he looked at the Slayer. He paused a moment before the both of them, then spat on the ground in disgust, walking away into the dawn.
Niki slowly sipped the coffee she cuddled between her cold fingers. She looked miserably into the distant wall of her kitchen. Pearce sat on the other side of the table, sipping at a mug of blood.
“So...” the vampire sighed, examining the delicious, if not miserable looking blonde before him. “You still think he’s infected?”
Niki didn’t take her eyes off the point of interest in the distance. I hope so.
Logan sat at the bar of the Berlin, the book pressed firmly open, the drink rattling on the bar’s surface as the music pounded through the club. He had never felt that punk had reflected anything inside him before. Slightly less conspicuous now, in a baggy pair of faded blue jeans and a black turtleneck, he felt some of the lyrics talking directly to him. Logan swallowed and turned the page.
If all's confused
And they corrupt
I'll know which way is up
It’s done.
“What’re you readin’?” the man from the other night sat down beside him, indicating the pages.
Logan kept a finger at his page and closed the book to reveal its cover.
Attack & Defense:
The Rudiments of the Dark Arts
The punk raised his eyebrows and turned back to his drink. “Well... Good luck with that,” with the slightest excuse he could think of, he stood and disappeared into the crowd. Logan shrugged and opened the book again. Niki would be angry with him. She would be furious, in fact: This was the second time he hadn’t gotten Joey’s autograph.
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