Outside, in the courtyard, Logan wandered along the long path leading up to the central housing - clinging to the darkness while listening to his old companion’s telepathic communications. They’d come so far in the brief month since they left Cadia. Jarek had been an experienced soldier - an officer of the Purge and by some means, he’d managed to whip the rest of them into shape. “Two rifles, six o’ clock from the lantern at the back” Logan heard at the back of his head before the rapid fire of the loud rifle in the mountains tore through the marked targets to his distant left.
He’d trained men before, but none had been so quick to take to the discipline and the tactics as these had - not that he’d expected any less from his favorite people in the entirety of Cradle.
“Logan, two pistols at six o’ clock, they’re coming from behind!” Jarek’s voice echoed through his mind. Numbed by the narcotics, Logan found his reflexes slowed, but such was the darkness of his coat that he had ample time to steel himself for the approaching, panicking bandits.
He turned, raised his right arm and with a jerk of his thumb signaled for the mechanism at his lower arm to produce the gun from his sleeve. Aiming was difficult for the spinning of his mind, but as they got ever-closer, they eventually lined up to push towards him - seeking shelter in the rotten housing against which he leaned.
With a decided squeeze of the trigger, the high-caliber bullet exploded from the barrel, piercing chests and bursting hearts, effectively stopping them from taking another step closer to the disoriented Ghast.
“That’s the last of them, Logan. Word of warning, there’s an enraged Logoric running down the mountainside at 1 o’ clock.” Logan took off his mask to wipe his glove across his face. The headache was coming quickly - the symbiote was learning to deal with the numbing agents and, by long, he’d no longer be able to tranquilize it to listen in on Jarek’s communication. Damn you, backflesh…
Logan stepped over to one of the dropped lanterns and turned up the gas release, lighting his surroundings to reveal the many dead bodies of the encampment. The order had said 12, but there were at least twenty of them, but such was the intelligence of the Governor’s hallowed eyes. He spat to the ground and put the mask back on just in time to hear: “What the fuck, Logan! Have you been smoking that stuff again!? You could hardly aim that thing! And your Symbiote’s screaming!” Luna shouted from the darkness. Even when she was angry, his shoulders felt ever-lighter when he heard her.
Logan raised his eyes as her hooded, dark form came into view, carrying the oversized, monster-killing rifle over her shoulder. “I can’t hear Jarek unless I do it - you know how it is. The Symbiote’s constantly blocking telepathy-” With a flash of movement, her hand darted out to grab his mask and tear it off to reveal his slight, sheepish smile of shark’s teeth.
Looking up from the ground, she seemed far from pleased. She’d drawn the hood back to stare her red eyes into his - her otherwise joyous lips turned into a profound frown.
With his mask in her hand, she continued to scold: “I know you want to train us to act like a team, but you’re being careless. And I know you’re probably tired of hearing it, but I don’t appreciate you torturing your symbiote- can’t you hear it?” His smile dissipated and following the briefest of frowns, he assumed a shallow grin of deflection. “Oh, you know me - I sometimes go a bit rough on the meat.” He attempted a playful wink, only for her to roll her eyes at him.
“We’re not done talking about this.” She whispered aggressively and donned her hood again as a series of shouts sounded from where Abraham had disappeared to. She extended the mask for him to don it and both sharpened their ears to listen:
“... creepy bastard - if you want to convince someone with your hero spiel, don’t spend an afternoon staring at their tits!”
“I-I didn’t! I-I’ve just got a lazy eye!” Logan had already understood what had taken place in the boy’s brief absence. For whatever reason, Abraham seemed to repulse every female they came across - wholly undeserved, of course. He was a sweetheart, however creepy he was.
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Turning to the door, Logan saw a woman stomp towards him, closely followed by a red-cheeked Abraham and a second, fatter male. They were clad in fine white, torn shirts and leather pants - typical attire for wayside merchants, which was about what Logan had expected he’d find somewhere in the camp.
The Ghast raised a hand to greet the merchants and watched their cheeks pale at the sight of his unnerving form. The girl raised her hand to pull the lips of the torn shirt to cover her chest and took a step back to gasp a choked: “Y-Y-You’re… You’re a Ghast!”
It wasn’t the worst reaction he’d ever heard. Logan bowed deep and offered: “Logan - at your service. The Bandits won’t trouble your trade-route any longer. I and my companions-”
“D-Did you say… did you say Logan? You’re a Ghast by the name of Logan?” He looked up to see her with a more brazen expression, as if attempting to process an impossibility or a falsehood. He cocked his head.
“You… you know my name, merchant? Have we met before?” She swallowed and shook her head before nervously stuttering: “N-No w-we haven’t… I-I’m sorry, but I’m a huge fan… i-if we find my stuff… c-could you sign my book? People aren’t gonna believe me.” She grinned widely.
“You’ve read my Codex?” He reared his head, ill-expecting anyone outside of the Order to have even touched the damn thing.
“Codex? No - I picked up the latest volume of the Gal and the Ghast back in Kumin, I’-I’m sorry, you must get this all the time-” Behind his mask, Logan dropped his jaw. He’d read the damn thing and found that there’d been some suspicious discrepancies - how his recounts had been twisted to form a heroic presentation of his feats. But it had never used his name - not until now.
He knew there could only be one possible culprit. He liked it better when the citizens feared his name and his mask, raising the question of whether it was time to change his name again.
“I assure you, the name’s a coincidence, fair madame. Abraham, maybe you could help them find their bel-” He trailed off as he looked to the side to see Luna glare at him from over a pair of crossed arms. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but he was fairly certain he’d be told as soon as these people came out of earshot.
“You know what… my darn eyesight’s no good in this darkness. And Abraham looks to have been hurt - I’ll have a look at you, my boy. Luna… you got a bird’s eye view of the place, maybe you could help these two find their stuff?”
Her voice drained away what little heat from the air that the cold night hadn’t. “Oh, I’d be happy to, Master…” He hung his head in a sigh, knowing what would come later.
With Abraham at his side, they rendezvoused by the gate with Jarek and Mara. Jarek hadn’t found a fitting coat and so he had spent his last remaining coins on buying himself some darker wear - black pants and a matching shirt slightly-too-tight for his rotund form. Likewise, he had painted his green carapace-armor a dark black to better meld with the darkness, which had served him well in his role as coordinator for their dark work.
Mara - his daughter, had slapped ash on her face and fully embraced their new position as Logan’s assistance as he fulfilled the contracts left to him by his late apprentice. Like her father, the girl had clothed herself in black and wore a hood low over her face to conceal her blonde hair.
The loss of her left hand hadn’t slowed her down the least, in fact, she insisted she didn’t miss it in the least - claiming she’d shed the dead weight again if she had been given the choice.
“Oh man - that was a lot more than I thought it’d be, Loggie.” She whistled.
Logan broke from his dread of the coming yelling he was due to receive once Luna returned and nodded his agreement.
“Well, I’m glad this was the last of Smile’s jobs. We’ll return south and rest up for the weekend… with any luck, we should be at the Citadel by next midweek.” He nearly toppled over as the symbiote awoke and came back to its senses - expanding its presence back into his flesh.
He grunted and took a step forwards to slam into Jarek’s armor, where the older man grabbed him for support. “Whoah there. You could’ve told us you were smoking root before we went, you know. We’d have been more careful.”
Logan chuckled, rose up and clapped the old man’s shoulder. “You should always be careful. That said, you don’t need to be careful when it comes to me. I guarantee I’ve lived through worse than some bandits.”
Jarek seemed less-than-impressed with the answer and even if he was a hardened man, he allowed himself to be flattered as Logan went on to commend him. “Nice job with the coordination back there. It really felt like I had eyes in the skies.” Mara slung the rifle over her shoulder and cleared her throat into her remaining hand.
“You too, Mara. Nice shooting, as always.” He reached his hand out to ruffle her hood, only for her to ‘clumsily’ fall into him and grab hold of his chest.
“O-Ohhh, Logan - I’m so sorry. Y-your words always have a way of weakening my knees..Ohh myy…” She hesitated not for a second in fidgeting with his tight belt. Thankfully, Jarek - always observant and vigilant, slapped the back of her head and raised her back up to her feet with a determined shout of:
“Damnit, girl!”