![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
It's difficult to be the man who knows everything about the facility when the results of his newest treachery are all over the monitors. For all that he has built himself to be cut off from the things around him, he still feels the bile rise in his throat when Liam's face comes into view of one of the cameras. None of the veteran employees are foolish enough to look his way. None of the new ones are dumb enough to mention the visual similarities when he's in the room.
But they see it, too. And the director forces himself to remain where he is. Watching the proceedings of the newest induction.
He leaves five minutes later and no one says a word. No one dares to.
Back in his office, the door shut and his employees no longer in visual range, the Director disappears. That stoic, controlled man behind the desk falters and grips the arms of his chair, pale and sick and small at being faced with what he has done. A second time. All for the sake of rendering his threat off guard. Sacrificing his rook to put a pawn into play.
And Liam's face ceases to just be a ghost in his mind and resumes haunting his waking hours. Even as he looks up at the private monitors, he realizes his mistake. This is in Southtown. It's new arrival day. Of course John would be there. Of course he would run into Liam.
Of course his brother's face would be right there, staring back at him, injured and confused.
It isn't John he's looking at. Not with that expression.
Logan's stomach rolls and the voices in his head grow louder. Laughter rings in his ears and there is nothing he can do about it. They wouldn't have accepted the deal if it wasn't beneficial to them. And oh how they loved to chip away at the remnants of his shattered, bloody soul.
He looses his breakfast into the bin by his desk and sits there a long moment. Head in his hands. Listening to Liam and John's voice mix in a blur in the background.
He cleans himself and his office up. Washes the bad taste out of his mouth and closes his eyes. Counts to ten. And when he opens them again to stare at his desk, he knows better than to look up again. Not right now. Not here. Instead he puts the earpiece in so no one will hear. And he goes back to work.
And each time Liam speaks to John, he can feel the grins of the Gods burning in his skull.
But the pawn is in place and there is nothing he could do for the rook, regardless.
That piece was taken long before now.
But they see it, too. And the director forces himself to remain where he is. Watching the proceedings of the newest induction.
He leaves five minutes later and no one says a word. No one dares to.
Back in his office, the door shut and his employees no longer in visual range, the Director disappears. That stoic, controlled man behind the desk falters and grips the arms of his chair, pale and sick and small at being faced with what he has done. A second time. All for the sake of rendering his threat off guard. Sacrificing his rook to put a pawn into play.
And Liam's face ceases to just be a ghost in his mind and resumes haunting his waking hours. Even as he looks up at the private monitors, he realizes his mistake. This is in Southtown. It's new arrival day. Of course John would be there. Of course he would run into Liam.
Of course his brother's face would be right there, staring back at him, injured and confused.
It isn't John he's looking at. Not with that expression.
Logan's stomach rolls and the voices in his head grow louder. Laughter rings in his ears and there is nothing he can do about it. They wouldn't have accepted the deal if it wasn't beneficial to them. And oh how they loved to chip away at the remnants of his shattered, bloody soul.
He looses his breakfast into the bin by his desk and sits there a long moment. Head in his hands. Listening to Liam and John's voice mix in a blur in the background.
He cleans himself and his office up. Washes the bad taste out of his mouth and closes his eyes. Counts to ten. And when he opens them again to stare at his desk, he knows better than to look up again. Not right now. Not here. Instead he puts the earpiece in so no one will hear. And he goes back to work.
And each time Liam speaks to John, he can feel the grins of the Gods burning in his skull.
But the pawn is in place and there is nothing he could do for the rook, regardless.
That piece was taken long before now.
Hiring John and his friends had been one of Logan's better calls, half a decade or so into his time as director. He had culled more than half of the worthless staff he had started out with, and then he had gone about gathering up the stories and history of every living person in the underground city attached to the facility and slowly pulling out anyone he deemed demented enough and stable enough to handle working in this environment. It took a specific type of person to work for the Facility. Someone with either enough sadism or enough dedication to the planet, to overlook the death and despair and widespread pain they would soon be causing. And someone with enough sanity not to lose their mind with the desensitization of death that they would commit a murder spree or sabotage the scenarios with their own sick ideas.
John was a promising prospect, though the director had never met him or his colleagues until after their interviews with Victoria and their psychological evaluations. Then it had been a single brief sit down. A signing of a contract, in blood, and a firm handshake. That was it. No extraneous conversation. No random small talk or stern reminders of the rules. They were on their way to their assigned departments and out of his office.
He didn't think about John again after that. Not in any significant way. Occasional supervision and internal compliments to the work he was doing, but no more or less than he would do for any competent employee. The one thing that stood out to him, was that after everything. The training, the rumors, the induction. Every step of the way. John still looked him in the eye when Logan welcomed him to the Facility. Looked him in the eye without an ounce of fear.
It was what stuck in the Director's mind the most clearly of anything. He smiled. He said hello. Months after his hiring he was still unafraid to speak to Logan when he passed him. A trait nearly every other employee lacked.
And then John pulled the ballsiest of moves. Of course the Director had always known exactly which ideas belonged to which of his employees. They all knew about the cameras upstairs but only spoke in rumors about the ones downstairs. Their own private subterranean legends. But John had the balls to outline and prove it to him, which Logan had taken with a nod.
The man who had been taking the credit for John's work was promptly fired, wiped and tucked away in the Facility vaults until Logan decided what to do with him.
From then on he discovered he had unintentionally given a stray a bite of food and it wouldn't leave him alone. For the next four to five years the stray became increasingly more of a presence in his daily life. Bringing him reports, fielding ideas at him, talking about scenarios past and future. And doing all of it with the sort of respect that made it impossible for Logan to get irritated with him. He wasn't like that annoying little arrogant brat, Travis. John understood what they were working for and his ideas were well thought out and had an attention to detail that Logan admired.
It slowly grew to a point where he expected it from the script writer. If a week, or even a few days went by without the stray stopping him in the hallway or knocking at his office door, Logan was surprised. And, admittedly, a little disappointed, not that he let on. Being Director was a lonely man's career. No one but Victoria dared to speak with him and while he would, in a way, consider her a friend, they rarely talked of anything other than work.
He made himself known in Logan's eyes, to be one of his most dedicated employees, and one of the few who truly understood why they were here and what their work meant. So when he came in one day and there was something off about his attitude, Logan had a moment of wondering if the other man had found some other God or a new conscience. He was sincerely considering sending him to Medical to have them rip it back out.
And then the words came out and Logan was left staring blankly at the man on the other side of his desk, office door closed and a stack a reports in his hand, ready to be placed on the desk for Logan to read. He still demanded paper reports over electronic. He liked having the hard copies in his hands. And for filing purposes.
You should let me blow you, sometime.
It wasn't even remotely a joke. Logan caught the look in his eyes. The stray was whining at the door, asking to be let in. Logan had never really been a pet person. And he couldn't afford any emotional attachments beyond a pet. So maybe he had fed the stray long enough he had unintentionally tamed it. That didn't mean he planned on keeping John.
So Logan had decided to take his offer, and scare him off. Not then and there, of course. He had calmly told John that if he was not done with his work for the week, he should go back to his department and finish it. And the next week he had told John to lock the door behind himself, and intentionally been rougher than necessary when he fucked John's mouth at the end of the shift. Maybe he had been trying a little, to frighten the stray off. Boy had it ever backfired.
A few years later and they were semi-routinely fucking in his office at end of the week shifts when everyone else had gone home. Logan occasionally pushing John's limits with rougher and more violent decisions in what they were going to do. He had tried everything to send the stray running, from the belt to rough talk and threats, and later to bruises and dangerously close to broken bones.
They were far from a deterrent and he ended up enjoying it. All of it. John too, by the looks and sounds of it. And still he kept coming back, loyal and mostly-obedient and never dull or boring.
At some point, Logan gave up thinking of him as a stray that wouldn't wise up and get out, and started accepting the fact that John was his now. And the more he accepted that, the less willing he was to let him leave.
John was a promising prospect, though the director had never met him or his colleagues until after their interviews with Victoria and their psychological evaluations. Then it had been a single brief sit down. A signing of a contract, in blood, and a firm handshake. That was it. No extraneous conversation. No random small talk or stern reminders of the rules. They were on their way to their assigned departments and out of his office.
He didn't think about John again after that. Not in any significant way. Occasional supervision and internal compliments to the work he was doing, but no more or less than he would do for any competent employee. The one thing that stood out to him, was that after everything. The training, the rumors, the induction. Every step of the way. John still looked him in the eye when Logan welcomed him to the Facility. Looked him in the eye without an ounce of fear.
It was what stuck in the Director's mind the most clearly of anything. He smiled. He said hello. Months after his hiring he was still unafraid to speak to Logan when he passed him. A trait nearly every other employee lacked.
And then John pulled the ballsiest of moves. Of course the Director had always known exactly which ideas belonged to which of his employees. They all knew about the cameras upstairs but only spoke in rumors about the ones downstairs. Their own private subterranean legends. But John had the balls to outline and prove it to him, which Logan had taken with a nod.
The man who had been taking the credit for John's work was promptly fired, wiped and tucked away in the Facility vaults until Logan decided what to do with him.
From then on he discovered he had unintentionally given a stray a bite of food and it wouldn't leave him alone. For the next four to five years the stray became increasingly more of a presence in his daily life. Bringing him reports, fielding ideas at him, talking about scenarios past and future. And doing all of it with the sort of respect that made it impossible for Logan to get irritated with him. He wasn't like that annoying little arrogant brat, Travis. John understood what they were working for and his ideas were well thought out and had an attention to detail that Logan admired.
It slowly grew to a point where he expected it from the script writer. If a week, or even a few days went by without the stray stopping him in the hallway or knocking at his office door, Logan was surprised. And, admittedly, a little disappointed, not that he let on. Being Director was a lonely man's career. No one but Victoria dared to speak with him and while he would, in a way, consider her a friend, they rarely talked of anything other than work.
He made himself known in Logan's eyes, to be one of his most dedicated employees, and one of the few who truly understood why they were here and what their work meant. So when he came in one day and there was something off about his attitude, Logan had a moment of wondering if the other man had found some other God or a new conscience. He was sincerely considering sending him to Medical to have them rip it back out.
And then the words came out and Logan was left staring blankly at the man on the other side of his desk, office door closed and a stack a reports in his hand, ready to be placed on the desk for Logan to read. He still demanded paper reports over electronic. He liked having the hard copies in his hands. And for filing purposes.
You should let me blow you, sometime.
It wasn't even remotely a joke. Logan caught the look in his eyes. The stray was whining at the door, asking to be let in. Logan had never really been a pet person. And he couldn't afford any emotional attachments beyond a pet. So maybe he had fed the stray long enough he had unintentionally tamed it. That didn't mean he planned on keeping John.
So Logan had decided to take his offer, and scare him off. Not then and there, of course. He had calmly told John that if he was not done with his work for the week, he should go back to his department and finish it. And the next week he had told John to lock the door behind himself, and intentionally been rougher than necessary when he fucked John's mouth at the end of the shift. Maybe he had been trying a little, to frighten the stray off. Boy had it ever backfired.
A few years later and they were semi-routinely fucking in his office at end of the week shifts when everyone else had gone home. Logan occasionally pushing John's limits with rougher and more violent decisions in what they were going to do. He had tried everything to send the stray running, from the belt to rough talk and threats, and later to bruises and dangerously close to broken bones.
They were far from a deterrent and he ended up enjoying it. All of it. John too, by the looks and sounds of it. And still he kept coming back, loyal and mostly-obedient and never dull or boring.
At some point, Logan gave up thinking of him as a stray that wouldn't wise up and get out, and started accepting the fact that John was his now. And the more he accepted that, the less willing he was to let him leave.
