Chapter Text
When he lunges, David darts away. Again. He never thought the hardest part about killing his brother would be how damn slippery he is.
Logan got close only once so far. Lured him in with a sweet voice and sad brown eyes. “I don’t want to. I’m scared.” And poor stupid David got too close.
Got a knife in the side for that. Logan couldn't use that trick again either. David’s smarter than that. He didn’t see Logan go after the rest, it's how Logan planned it, but by then he knows Logan meant business.
They’ve been on this chase only a few minutes, but the hunt had been going on for a few hours. Once Merrick was out of the way, there was only one person left on the list.
Though Logan still hurt from that brawl. Merrick had not been as dumb as the rest of them.
Kick was easy to frame as a suicide. He’d been going through a rough patch anyways, back into his drinks when he was almost ten years sober. The opportunity presented itself and Logan just threw him off a roof. No cameras, no witnesses.
Neptune was on the field when Logan got him, so it was easy for them to put it down as KIA. Die on a mission, die as a hero. It flew under everyone's radar with hardly a glance. Except for one person.
Keegan was a bit smarter, looked deeper and actually figured it out before Logan got him. Compiled what little evidence there was, and he got so close to getting away. Didn’t get the chance to save himself, but he could send a final message.
Merrick was well aware by the time Logan went after him, and not willing to pull his punches. Maybe Logan would have gone after him first, if he had planned more. But he liked going with the flow.
Can’t fuck up a plan if you don’t have one.
The most he planned was saving David for last. He’d be the easiest. Logan knew even after all this time that he would only see his little brother, not a terrorist.
Even after all this time and all the preparation he went through, a tiny tiny part of him was still squeamish at the thought.
A much larger part overwhelmed that fraction by a billion. He would see this to the end.
And soon. He knew this chase would end eventually. They would hit a dead end.
The door David went through got slammed behind him, and Logan actually struggled with the damn handle for a second, widening the lead David already had.
Damn. He should have just used his momentum and kicked it down.
There was a hall with a sloping ramp, then the room opened up on the left. An auditorium once upon a time. Now it was dark and disused. There was a hole in the roof, but it being night meant there still wasn’t much light.
“Dammit Hesh! All you are doing is stalling! ” He yelled, listening to the hollow echo.
There was no sound of movement, but he expected that. Ghosts don't make sounds when they walk. And he didn’t either.
This was tiring. This game of chase had gone on too long and he was bored.
Logan had a lot of tools, but one favorite “genre” he had was explosives. Grenades, C4, mines, clay-mores, all of them. One he kept on him, for emergencies, was an incendiary grenade. Creates a lot of fire, chaos, and most importantly, light.
He moved away from the door they came in, quietly, and towards the front of the theater. The hole in the ceiling was above him, and the rubble from that blocked the existing emergency exit behind the stage. Knowing that he unclipped the grenade and threw it at the only usable exit. Where he and David came in.
Unless David could phase through walls, he was going to be trapped in here with Logan.
There was a hiss, and a bright fountain of light, which Logan was careful to look away from so as to not blind himself. The flames eagerly climbed the wall, consuming the dry wood, plaster, and decorative drapes for sound absorption. Then it began spreading across the rest of the auditorium. Over the small dividing wall for the ramp, and the chairs.
Logan moved, quick to hide himself in the rapidly diminishing shadows. When the advantage of surprise is lost, simply create a scenario where you may regain it.
Movement caught his eye, among the rows of chairs. He could just barely see the top of David's head as he moved away from the fire. Too tall to hide properly behind the rows.
Logan had lost his assault rifle in his fight with Merrick, and since he had elected to chase David down rather than recover it, that meant he only had his secondary. A .44 magnum revolver. A gift from Gabriel.
David yelped when the shot missed him by an inch. It hit the chair behind him instead, blowing a sizable hole in the backrest.
“No way out Hesh.” He called. Five shots left before he would need to reload. “You'll burn, even if you kill me.”
Unless he could wriggle through the projector window in the back, but that was a good fifteen feet up. Nothing but a smooth wall below.
“How will you get out then?” David called back.
The next second he had popped up from behind the seats, and Logan lined up another shot. David threw a flash bang, which exploded midair.
Logan yelled in pain when the flash blinded him, simultaneously putting a ring in his ears and giving him a migraine. He still managed to pull the trigger however. Four shots left before his reload.
“Who ever said I would?” He responded, barely able to hear himself speak as he stumbled away from his previous position. He didn’t hear if he made the shot. He was having trouble hearing or seeing at all because of that trick.
The ground vanished beneath his feet, and he yelped as he fell off the edge of the stage into the orchestra pit. Dammit. He looked stupid now.
At least he had recovered enough to see and hear now.
More of the auditorium was on fire. It was quite a large blaze, and the flames had consumed a third so far.
Both of them would be pushed stage left, until there was no way left to go. Logan was sure the rest of the building was being consumed as well. It hadn’t rained in weeks, everything was bone-dry and perfect tinder. Another of California's droughts.
The heat clawed at the exposed skin of his face. Usually he was covered head to toe. The exception here was so they would see his face. Something as small as some heat he could stand.
Still, he moves away from it so he can keep up with David.
His brother had vanished back among the seats. Probably lost what ego he had and decided to crawl along rather than moving in a crouch. Safer that way. Smarter.
Throwing caution to the wind, he ran up one of the long aisles that ran between seats, checking the rows as he moved. He kept the magnum ready, finger twitching on the trigger.
A glisten caught his eye. He stopped, carefully keeping his eyes and ears open as he moved closer to investigate.
Crimson was smeared on the back of a seat.
He tutted, mocking disappointment. “Oh no! Hesh you’re bleeding!”
Satisfaction made his lips quirk up at the edges into a smirk. He had hit his mark, even blind and deaf. Killing him was preferable, wounding him was a bonus.
The fire was at his back, so he knew it would do him no good to trace the trail backwards. He would keep moving forward.
Logan followed the row, cursing as some seats got in the way. Broken from the earthquakes and time. So long, two decades, or more, since the ODIN strikes.
And that's really where this started wasn’t it.
More blood marked David's trail.
Logan saw movement, and fired without thinking. David yelped in pain, but not fear. Damn Kevlar vest. Probably only felt like a punch at this distance. Three shots left.
“Why are you doing this! He’s dead! ” David yelled across the auditorium, scrambling over a fallen section of roof and hiding on the other side. He sounded desperate.
“I know that, dipshit!” He paused before he spoke again. “It’s not about him, and it never was.” Logan heard a section of ceiling fall behind him, weakened by the white-orange fire.
“Then what is it about?!”
“This is about you. ” He hissed, rounding the pile and shooting his surprised brother.
Running wasn’t quiet, but the ceiling falling had masked the noise of his feet as he sprinted the gap.
David screamed this time, hit in the chest from just a few feet away. Not even a Kevlar vest will stop that. Two shots left as red sprouted from David's ribs.
Logan pulled the hammer back, and his finger tightened on the trigger, but as he fired again something snarled and grabbed his arm.
Not grabbed, he realized as teeth tore through the fabric of his jacket and down to his skin. Bitten .
He was dragged off his feet as the dog yanked, and thrashed its head. His damn arm nearly came out of the socket, and he screamed as the muscles on his right forearm were ripped apart. The magnum was dropped as his hand went weak. The bullet went awry, and there was one shot left in the revolver.
The dog went for his throat next, but he got his hands under the neck to hold it back.
“Riley!” David yelled.
Logan toppled over backwards as Riley pushed, still trying to rip his throat out. His arms trembled as they strained to hold Riley away. The dog snarled menacingly. Fulfilling his duty. To protect his people. He meant to kill Logan.
Logan grunted under the weight, unable to push him off or throw him away. He was not going to stop. Nothing would change that, because Logan had attacked David and Riley had seen it.
He wondered if his friend recognized him anymore. Did he think Logan died? Or was he waiting for him to come back all this time?
“I’m sorry.” He growled back, grabbing Riley's lower jaw and snout in either hand. Logan made sure to do it quickly.
With a twist, a thick snap, and a yelp, Riley went still.
Logan rolled the body off, letting a hand rest on the graying fur on his dogs side while he looked for David. He was gone, and when he searched for his gun it was gone as well. Even checking under Riley didn’t reveal it to him.
He had stolen it.
“FUCK YOU!” He yelled over the fire roaring at his back. The high ceiling meant the smoke would take some time to build, but Logan was struggling to breathe already. “You know how long I waited? For YOU? For ANYONE?”
He was trying to upset Hesh. He had a tendency to yell whenever he was angry.
“We tried looking! We searched everywhere okay?! Every day, every week, every hour! For so long I was going crazy!”
Near the back corner of the auditorium. Likely the last place that would burn up. Smart, but only stalling again.
Logan pulled his knife, and pressed himself into what little shadow was left. The fire moved much quicker than he estimated. This was the last quarter of the theater not on fire.
There was a form there, nearly indistinguishable from the rubble. Logan lunged and plunged the knife forward.
He hit his astoundingly soft mark, and quickly realized he’d been tricked by a dress form.
Not quickly enough, because even as he began to turn a shot rang out. Zero left before reload. David had used the last bullet in the chamber to get him in the back.
The most disturbing thing about being shot is that you can’t actually feel it. Depending on the caliber, it feels like being hit by a pebble, or a large rock someone threw at you. Shock and adrenaline numb the nerves, and all you’re left with is a warm-numb sensation that spreads from the site of impact.
Eventually, you’ll feel it. Once it starts healing the area will be swollen and stiff, and if you’re lucky, you’ll get some pain meds to help you through it. Logan was rather unfortunately not lucky.
He also didn’t think he’d make it to the “Owie” stage.
It didn’t hit somewhere survivable, not to mention since it was his gun he knew the caliber. A .44 to the back would kill god, and Hesh didn’t miss.
Hesh was still standing where he shot Logan from, frozen like he was surprised his little trick had worked.
Logan meanwhile, was backpedaling, trying to get away from him. He tripped over the dummy, and yelped in surprise and pain as his head smacked on some not-so-soft rubble.
Getting up is already too much of a task. He’s already too light headed. The bullet went through and through. He can feel the blood spreading down his abdomen and back. It’s sticky and hot.
David whimpers, reaches his hands out like he might put pressure on it to stop the bleeding, but he seems to realize it wouldn't help the wound he’s caused. “I’m sorry.” He whispers instead.
“Fuck off.” Logan gurgles, watching the flames eat the ceiling, too weak to raise his head at this point. “I hate you. I wish you died instead of Dad.”
There's silence for a minute. David doesn't move, even as the flames grow closer and the heat rises. There's no way out in the first place, but he wasn't even trying.
“Fucking useless… They died because you were stupid. You were useless, you fucking bastard.” Logan hacks, unsurprised to feel blood come out of his mouth. “Not even trying to leave? Selfish asshole .”
“Why would I? I don’t have anything else.” David murmurs. He moves finally, to get closer and kneel next to him. Logan can’t even try to move to get away at this point, he’s paralyzed. Lost too much blood.
Gently he runs a hand over Logan's forehead and over his hair, soothingly.
“They won’t even know it was me.” He manages to force out. Logan left no evidence, sans David. And he was going to die. There was nothing left of him.
More ceiling collapses somewhere, and he flinches. He's breathing faster, and his heart is pumping as hard as it can. Unintentionally bleeding him dry as it tries to keep him alive for longer. His fingers and toes are numb.
“I know. You did a good job.” David praises, and Logan realizes his eyes haven fallen shut and he’s only been staring at the light of the fire through his eyelids.
“You aren’t scared?”
“I am. But I know there's no way out. You’re too clever. I was trapped as soon as that incendiary went off, wasn't I?”
“It’s gonna hurt.” Logan wants. “Fire… fire really hurts. You melt, and the nerves remember… The scars never leave…”
“I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that.” David Rummages through Logan's vest, and he hears the magnum being reloaded.
Logan grunts. That’s probably the smartest thing David can do in this situation. He feels something warm drop on his face, and manages the strength to force his eyes open one last time.
David had laid Logan's head in his lap, and he hadn't even felt it. He's also sweating bullets because of the heat, which Logan can’t even feel as the fire reaches greedy fingers for them. But it’s not what's fallen on him. There are a lot of tears on his face. He hasn't stopped petting Logan's head.
Why would he keep comforting him? It was obvious Logan held no more affection for him. He couldn't even feel it. He couldn't feel anything at all.
Logan's eyes drift shut again, and he hears the hammer click as it’s pulled back for the last time.