Chapter 3: Logan's Fury
This piece is something i'm writing on the fly because I just saw this assignment on a whim. But this piece will be in a far distant future piece of my story The Isekai Game
Where there's anger, there's pain underneath. And given the blisters ripping through Logan's hands that couldn't be more true. Something Carter would've enjoyed to see is where no matter how hard Logan struck each mecha soldier, there was nobody he could truly be angry at except himself.
May it been from the fact that Logan had been out of touch with reality to the point he didn't know his own age. For somebody so smart and so skilled to not even know their own age was beyound ludacris. Maybe if he ever said "hi" to his own mother or swung by for his own birthday party he would've know. Of course he wasn't going to become a professional Isekai Games Player. He was only 16.
Or it could be that lazy attitude of his. Natural talent had gotten far for sure. We're talking about the legend who may very well glance through a book and have it memorized. The boy who learned most martial arts in the studio at back in middle school by simply watching how others fought. This same gift became his curse. Never did Logan feel he needed to study or actually train. The numbness in his hands as he beat an opponent was more than enough.
Where is Vanessa? Where is his ticket that was going to get him to pro? Dani? Jaivva? Faith? Everyone that has tried to support him on this journey? They were gone. It was Logan himself who pushed them all away with his nasty meta gaming habits. It was he who sucked the life out of the community over the course of years. Now the only two men by his side was Benji who he had spent years tormenting. And Andres, the best friend who he tried so hard to push away.
Why has his obsession drove him mad? Perhaps it was something in the water. Or rather all the ice pops he ate. But what started it. What began Logan's obsession for being the best? Kiki, Carter, and Mike have known him since early middle school when they lived in a shelter. They hated him as well as each other. But he was always very competitive.
Only Kiki ever seen a clue as to what was wrong with him. Nowhere in her wildest imagination could she figure it out. She simply recalled him standing there in an asylum. One hell of a theme that was. Her and Logan were so young sneaking around to find paperwork. She would hide in sofas as Logan ran around to search desks and tables. Their source of light was a tiny flashligh and a flip phone with little battery.
When possible, Logan would bring her the documents. Kiki would take pictures to sell to advance teams. It was a nice hustle that they used to get out of poverty. It was scary as well. The floors felt like they were going to collapse. The patients were grown mutated men that held blades. Then there was scrawny ole Logan who thought he was just going to beat them.
It was the only time he was nice to girls. Kiki remembered finding her hand in his. Like a knight guarding a princess to a castle. She hated it given that he was going to make her cry later. He never seemed scared. Ready to take on anything that came. The same couldn't be said when they entered a lobby area.
He jumped as though he had been stabbed. Kiki lived for such a moment. But not now. Not in this place. Not when she needed money and to be safe. Odd enough, Logan was just standing with his back against a wall. What shook him? Kiki peaked around the corner. A bald little black girl with no real scars on her sat in a chair with a little rag doll.
This wasn't a typical monster. The Isekai Game did things like this for players to help them resolve internal conflicts. But Logan was shook. He walked past without bothering to check for clues. That poor girl cried asking for help. Even Kiki was touched by her sincerity. It was the one time in all of Kiki's years of knowing that boy that she could say, "He was afraid".
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