Having left one of his oversized guns in the capable… hand of Mara, Logan watched the bombardment of fiery shells set the fresh constructions of Cadia aflame - raining them with showers of white-hot pebbles, splintered wood and giblets of flesh.
The blood pouring from the severed arterial vessels was enough to put out some of the fires, but the fifteen crates of ammunition promised that there was more to go around to relight the embers, should they ever fully go out.
The entire garrison shook beneath his feet as he strode over towards the sullen, exhausted form leaning against the granite supports overlooking the fields of writhing horrors. Whatever Iris had done to Smile, it had drained her and left her weakened - nothing food and rest couldn’t remedy, but it would take time.
Time enough to let Logan drop a familiar paper scroll at her feet and question: “Why?” Seeing the paper, she leaned back against the wall and slid down to her buttocks to grab it and throw it limply back towards his own feet.
“Because you always make it out alive.” He reached down and grabbed the paper as another volley of fire shook the garrison.
“I’ve got a box of these at home. I don’t want any more…” She scoffed with a bitter bemusement. “I don’t think you’ve got any quite like that one… I still want you to have it. At least until the end of this. You conscripted me - you’re duty-bound to carry it.” He ran his lower lip over his sharp, jagged teeth and grunted his displeasure before joining her at the wall to stare down at the constant splatter of blood and gore.
“Why’s this important now, Smile? What’s gotten into you?” His tone was accusatory as he asked his questions of his old colleague, therefore he felt his patience run thin as she next spoke in her tone of suppressed emotions: “It serves us all to be prepared for the eventualities. Y-” He rounded on her with fury and growled: “I’ve had about enough of this! I can tell something’s up with you, but you’re refusing to tell me what! If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong, that’s fine. But then I’d rather you didn’t speak at all, unless it pertains to the mission - this is a waste of my time.” She fell silent for a moment before nodding in agreement.
“That’s satisfactory. I’ll rest up a bit, then I’ll help out on the guns. I-” Logan shook his head and turned back towards the crazed man atop the platform, uninterested in being served any more of her deceitful contributions.
The fire was effective to some extent - lighting the buildings up to clear the surrounding areas of the tendrils - at least the ones the tentacles did not put out instantly by choking the fires… which only served to strengthen Logan’s belief that something was definitely off about the Monstrum they were facing.
By the look of Jorn’s crossed arms, he hadn’t been slow to notice the unusual sight, either.
“What do you think?” Logan asked. Jorn rubbed the white scruff of his chin.
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“It ain’t no normal meat. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was…” He searched his mind for the word, only for Logan to offer: “Intelligent?” The two warriors nodded a unified agreement.
Pausing for another volley of fire, Jorn turned to look at the orderly ranks of Ghasts along the wall and grumbled: “I got a bad feelin’ ‘bout this. They ain’t gonna be much use with them eyes. They might even get in the way - ain’t ever met a un’ of ‘em who could fight.” Logan did not argue.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I suggest we fire a clear line out of the town to evacuate them. Doesn’t look like Braille can make the return trip some-thirty times.” Jorn batted his powerful, white brow at his adopted son.
“The fuck- what’s gotten into you boy? You suggestin’? You wanna evacuate ‘em?” Logan was glad the old man couldn’t see his sideways smirk at the commentary.
“Boy, it’s like you a new man - man I always wanted to meet. But I don’t think yer wrong… whenever this thing comes out of hidin’, we’re gonna get busy and I don’t wanna feed her more than she’s already eaten.” Logan had avoided thinking about how much flesh the beast had consumed to further empower it. Thousands had died down on the streets and as they spoke, the Monstrum was finding a way to digest them - likely by utilizing an even higher number of Enslaved somewhere inside its body. Both knew that they stood up to their necks in the shit, but as the old man would’ve reminded him on any other day, hunters did not fall prey to pessimism.
To Logan’s dismay, the clearing of a snarky throat from behind him and the old man warned him that they were no longer alone in their stoic shared staring.
“General-Major Crusher - I’d like to inform you that this man is part of this Hellspawn conspiracy. If you would give me the honor of executing him-” Jorn turned around and narrowed his eyes to look at her, twisting his face in an expressive grimace to say: “You look and sound just like my ex wife, but I remember your ass bein’ bigger. Is that you?” Even if Logan couldn’t see her face, he knew she was blinking with disbelief.
“S-Sir… no, I am Commander Iris of the Governor’s-”
“Come to think of it… you don’t look like her at all.” On any other day, Jorn’s commentary would’ve appeared somewhat misogynistic to Logan. But it was hard to feel any sympathy for Iris - she had, after all, held several of his closest compatriots at knifepoint a moment previous.
But Logan decided that for the time being, bygones had to be bygones - at least until the Governor’s cataracts could summon him for what would inevitably be a lengthy trial.
“Commander Iris. I think we can all agree that this isn’t a case for the Eyes anymore. I’ll answer whatever summons you send for me, but for now we’re prioritizing getting your men and the Guard out of here.” This time, Iris raised her mask ever-so-slightly to spit in front of Logan’s boots.
“I’m not one of your subordinates, Behemoth-Bane. Unless you’ve gotten a promotion since coming out here, I’m staying put to keep an eye on you.”
He detested how it always boiled down to rank with these people, but as luck would have it, he had all the supply of rank he could ever need to get rid of his snarky antagonist.
“Fine - what’s the rank above Commander?” Logan asked. Iris scoffed mockingly and shook her head at his ignorance. “Brigadier, you half-wit. How have you gotten to-”
“Pa, do you mind?” Truthfully, the Ghast hadn’t a clue whether the old man still retained his rank, but it seemed Iris was none the wiser, either.
The old man waved his hand dismissively and continued to look down at the slaughterous fields. “Fine - what was it? Yer a Brigadier now. Just get them fellas outta here, boy.”
“It’d be my pleasure.” He imagined she could see the corners of his shark-toothed grin, but knew there wasn’t a thing she could do about it - not with that stick up her ass.