I Against I [PRIVATE] Jul 16, 2018 6:35:21 GMT -5
Post by Logan on Jul 16, 2018 6:35:21 GMT -5
I AGAINST I
I against I
Flesh of my flesh
And mind of my mind
Two of a kind
But one won’t survive
I against I
Flesh of my flesh
And mind of my mind
Two of a kind
But one won’t survive
Life was good.
Or at the very least, things were looking up. Xen had agreed to marry him. Even though it seemed more of a formality (they had been living together after all), this now felt more… legitimate.
For Logan, there was no other purpose this time, other than the genuine desire to honor and love Xen as his lawfully wedded wife. There was no other woman he wanted to spend the rest of his eternal life with.
He had been gallivanting without purpose, without direction for far too long. Xen had given him direction, given him purpose, given his life meaning when he lost everything he’d cherished.
The only family he had known since his arrival in this godforsaken city had cast him out into the cold. And rightfully so. He knew that now, accepted it as irrevocable consequence to his actions.
Although Xen had also broken their bond as partners, she allowed him back into her life, her home. She allowed him the opportunity to make things right, to prove himself worthy.
In all fairness, he'd been given multiple chances by his former family to do right by them, but his most recent mistake had been the last straw.
So it was only fair to do right by Xen and commit the rest of his life to her…
“Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up / In the morning when the day is new? / And after having spent the day together / Hold each other close the whole night through…”
Logan sang along to the Beach Boys song blaring through his earphones, even as he dodged the wild swing aimed for his head.
“Happy times together we've been spending / I wish that every kiss was never ending / Wouldn't it be nice?”
He dispatched his machete-wielding assailant using a move he had fastidiously learned from Xen. His attacker’s momentum was used against himself; the wild arc of his arm coupled with a perfectly placed kick to his side sent the vampire hunter reeling into a brick wall.
“Maybe if we think, and wish, and hope, and pray, it might come true / Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do / We could be married / And then we'd be happy…”
The hunter lunged once more, this time intending to run Logan through with the machete, only to be disarmed with surprising ease. The kind of ease that had him baffled a moment too long, a moment enough for Logan to sink the man’s own weapon into his heart, through his back.
“Wouldn't it be nice? / You know it seems the more we talk about it / It only makes it worse to live without it / But let's talk about it / Wouldn't it be nice?”
As the hunter breathed his last, Logan crouched down and rifled through his pockets, singing along to the song in his ears without missing a beat. Finding the bags of coins he’d been looking for, Logan smiled, even as the hunter struggled through his last breath.
“I’m getting married.”
Saying it out loud felt so right, he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Motherfucker. I’m getting married.”
Logan gazed down at the hunter - whose eyes now stared lifelessly up at the elated vampire - with a soft, almost warm smile usually meant for friends, or pleasant acquaintances. Before he rose to his feet, Logan patted the dead man’s shoulder.
“Well, you take care of yourself.”
Set to loop perpetually, the song in his ears began once more as the soon-to-be-married vampire went on his way, singing merrily,
“Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? / Then we wouldn't have to wait so long / And wouldn't it be nice to live together / In the kind of world where we belong…”
The trip to the nearest bank should have taken less than fifteen minutes from where he’d been, but the night was pleasant, more so than usual it seemed, so Logan took it upon himself to take the scenic route.
“I want to be your lover / I want to be the only one that makes you come, running / I want to be your lover / I want to turn you on, turn you out / All night long, make you shout / Oh, lover, yeah! / I want to be the only one you come for…”
Despite pulling off a pitch-perfect rendition of Prince’s classic hit, it came as no surprise that no one he’d come across on the way to the bank was impressed. Not even when he busted out his best moves.
Perfectly understandable, with how obnoxiously happy he was.
He strode into the bank just as Peter Veldig, private banker (and friend of Logan’s alter ego Michael Sanbourne) was about to leave the premises.
“Mr. Sanbourne. This is a… pleasant surprise. Didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” said Veldig, a quizzical frown creasing his brow. “I was just about to head home, but if you need anything else?”
Logan should have caught that bit of oddity in Veldig’s words, but he was in far too good a mood. Beaming, he grasped Veldig’s shoulders - a little too tightly for the man’s liking - and exclaimed,
“I’m getting married!”
Veldig, unused to such enthusiasm from the typically stoic Sanbourne, gave a nervous, polite laugh. “That’s wonderful news, Mr. Sanbourne.” He leaned in, and in hushed whispers, remarked, “I keep a bottle of Macallan in one of my safes for occasions like this.”
Ushering Logan to his office, Veldig shut the door behind him, and offered the still beaming vampire a seat at his desk. Fetching the Macallan and two glasses from his drawer, he filled and set one down in front of the groom-to-be.
“So who’s the lucky woman? Anyone I know?” asked Veldig as he poured himself a glass.
“No, I don’t think so. She’s… not from around here.”
Veldig nodded. “I see,” he said, with a knowing smirk. If he had any thoughts on the woman who “Sanbourne” was to marry, Veldig kept them to himself. “So like I said, was there something else you needed?”
There it was again.
This time the oddity niggled at Logan’s mind, it stayed and festered at the edge of his curiosity, but he dismissed it as an odd turn of phrasing.
“Well, I need money for the wedding, of course. I wanna do something grand, but I’m not sure Xe--my wife-to-be would be keen on all the grandeur…”
Veldig interrupted Logan, a look of concern and puzzlement on his tired face. “But… you cleaned out your accounts with us earlier today.”
It was one of those things that sounded so absurd, one simply had to ask for it to be repeated.
“Say that again?”
“You cleaned out your accounts,” said Veldig, setting down his glass on his desk. “I even tried to explain we don’t normally allow such huge transaction in one day because of our withdrawal policies, but you insisted. You said you wanted to withdraw everything you have and close your accounts with us.”
Logan was confused at what he was being told. He hadn’t been to the bank in days, weeks perhaps. So how could he have cleaned out his own accounts? Why would he even close his accounts when he needed them still?
“Stop fucking around, man. I need five hundred grand from my private account…”
Veldig cut him off. “You’re not hearing me, Sanbourne. We won’t process the termination of your account till tomorrow morning, so you should still be able to check your balance from our app.”
Logan did exactly that. Swiping through his list of apps, he tapped on the bank app, verified his PIN, and…
Total Balance from All Accounts: $0.00
“I don’t understand…”
Veldig sighed. “Listen, it’s been a long day. I’m tired, and…”
“No. Fuck you. This is my money we’re talking about here. I’ve been your best goddamn customer, and…”
The private banker corrected him. “Technically, you’re no longer our customer now, so…”
“Don’t get smart with me, Veldig.”
The fuck was going on? How could he have been here when…
“How long ago was… was I here?”
Veldig checked his watch. “5, maybe 6 hours ago.”
“I wasn’t even awake 6 hours ago.”
The private banker shrugged. “Maybe you were sleepwalking.”
Logan was about to protest the absurdity of it, but realized crazier things had happened. He sat confused, wondering if he had indeed been sleepwalking.
Had his “red eyed demon” taken over while he was asleep? But Xen said there was no such thing. He was his own man. He was his own demon. There was no other entity living inside him.
“Show me the surveillance footage.”
Even though Veldig refused to send him a copy of the surveillance footage, Logan had found a way to access the bank’s closed circuit surveillance system and download the footage.
It was all he’d watched since returning home a half hour ago.
Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play.
At one point, the Logan in the surveillance footage even looked directly up at the camera for a picture perfect face ID. It was him. Clothes, gait, mannerism, facial features… it was him as Michael Sanbourne.
What the fuck was going on?