Most nights she was working for Logan. Knocking out some punk ass guy who was stealing money from poor old ladies. Or, at least, something along those lines. But, the past couple of nights had been different. Logan wasn't speaking to Max, and it was driving her crazy.
It'd all started the Friday before, when Max came back from one of Logan's infamous assignments, with some rather different results than normal...
..."Logan?" Max called, closing his apartment door behind her after letting herself in.
"In here," Logan replied from his computer room. Max headed for his office, and leaned up against the door frame. Logan was too concentrated on his work to look up at her. "Did you take care of Brown?"
"You could say that," she told him, lowering her eyebrows in thought. In actual fact, when she'd gotten to Roland Brown's warehouse, he was already dead.
"What do you mean?" Logan asked, turning his attention from the computer to Max now. She moved further into the room. "And why the hell do you look like you went for a stroll in some raging animal's cage?"
"He was dead when I got there, Logan," Max revealed, looking at the bruises and scrapes on her arms which he was commenting on. "And, thanks for the compliment."
"This is serious Max. You're telling me that a man, that's been hacking into Sector Police databases since the pulse, was killed before we got to him," Logan told her, somewhat irratated. Max nodded slowly, as if she'd stumbled on some huge discovery. She moved her lower jaw to the side, agiatated with Logan's view on the whole thing.
"So, Logan didn't get the prize, is that it? Your getting angry cause your hitgirl didn't get there first?"
"No, I'm angry because now there's someone else out there that I've got to trackdown. I'm angry because my 'hitgirl' thinks that the fact that a dangerous man was killed tonite, by potentially even more dangerous men, isn't a big deal," Logan told Max, going back to his computers. Max raised her eyebrows.
"Excuse me for not caring! I even know this guy, and I'm personally glad I didn't."
"How can you say something like that, if you didn't even know him?" asked Logan angrily, raising his voice. Max shook her head and rolled her eyes.
"His men were there, Logan. Where the hell did you think I got these bruises? From delivering a package for Normal?" she asked, with more of a bitchy attitude than she'd intended. But, Logan deserved it.
"Why were they there? Do they know who killed Brown? Or why?" he asked suddenly, perking up a bit. Max smiled.
"Well, gee, if I'd known that before I kicked their ass I should've played twenty questions with them, maybe things would've gone smoother!" Max answered sarcastically. "I'll try to remember next time. I don't know what I could have been thinking." Logan didn't appreciate her humor.
"I think maybe you should leave, Max," he told her, turning his wheelchair toward the doorway.
"But, Logan--"
"You come here looking like a bandaid company's dream, joke up about what probably was a near death experience, and tell me that the assignment I sent you to do has already been completed by God knows who," Logan told her. "It's not what I've hired you to do."
He looked at the wall, avoiding Max's eyes, because he knew that what he was about to tell her would break his heart. And if he had to look at her eyes, her face, her entire being, he'd breakdown, and give in.
"Thanks for helping me these past couple of months," he said sternly.
"You're a sick bastard, you know that?" Max said, fighting her tears. Logan didn't move. "Fine, I'll go. But don't expect me to come crawling back!" Max said angrily, when in her heart she was already on her hands and knees...
And that was why Max wasn't working for Logan tonite. It was killing her, but she knew that if she called him, he'd just hang up. She'd been trying for two days now, since Saturday morning. It'd gotten to the point where he wouldn't even pick up the phone.
The sun peaked over the tall buildings of what was left of Seattle. Max sighed, and stood up, dusting off her palms. May as well go into work early. Normal would have a fuckin' heart attack, but Max didn't care. She needed the extra money, and more than likely, Normal could use the extra help.
"Yo, Normal, I'm clockin' in early," Max stated, rolling her bike into Jam Pony X-Press. Normal squinted his eyes at Max.
"What's the matter, girlie? Boyfriend mad at ya?" he asked. Max just shot him a nasty look.
"I'm not dating anyone," she said matter-of-factly.
"Wheelchair Wonder Boy got old that quick, eh?" Normal chuckled to himself.
"You know what Normal? I'm not going to discuss my personal life with you. Just forget I came in early," Max told him, mounting her bike.