Always An Informant
By Otterstamp



"Oh, It's better this way," Jackie said with zeal as she slapped the file in front of Logan 
Cale.

He grinned at her with amusement. Jackie was one of his best informants and had risked 
her ass for him and the cause more times then Max had. "Thanks, Jack."

"No problem Cale. But you can make it up to me with some dinner," she said, her 
eyebrow raised mischievously.

"And take away your precious ass-kicking time? I wouldn't dream of it."

"Don't worry, I won't let your amazing culinary magic effect me TOO much."

"Well in that case…" he said.

The two wandered into the kitchen where Logan began whipping up a hot dinner for 
Jack. He knew that she wasn't used to hot food, living in a rat-infested apartment with 
three of her friends, all which were older boys. Logan frequently said that she should 
move in with him, but she just shook her head with a patronizing smile.

He knew what Jack was thinking. She thought that he didn't know what it was like out 
there. She liked the way she lived: no limits, no worries, and total freedom. He just didn't 
think that she should be involved with an apartment full of young men.

Logan placed a delicate chine plate in front of Jack and smiled at her pleased expression. 

"You've done it again, Cale," she announced after the first heaping forkful.

"I do what I can," he said, biting into his own food.

She looked him straight in the eye with a serious expression. "Don't you always, 
though." It was a statement, not a question.

He was just about to ask what her cryptic message meant when the front door slammed. 
Jackie's head snapped to the side with lightening quickness and her eyes narrowed.

"Calm down, Jack," Logan said in his best soothing voice. Street kids like her were alert 
and wild. "It's just Max."

With that said, Max walked in with a jaunty spring to her step as if this was her turf. She 
stopped short seeing someone new violating that fact, and her eyes narrowed as well.

Jack sized up the young woman. She was exceptionally pretty with dark ringlets falling to 
her shoulders, dark eyes, and black leather. From her years on the street, Jack could 
deduce that this woman was a fighter, like her. She quietly placed the fork on the china 
dish, making a clinking in the silence.

Max sized up the intruder, herself. There was a girl sitting at the kitchen counter, no more 
then fifteen. Her head was bent slightly in a defensive pose, her sharp blue eyes shaded 
threateningly. She had a sheet of long brown hair that reached a few inches below her 
shoulders that was surprisingly well cared for. If she hadn't looked like she would have 
snapped someone's neck at any minute, she would have been pretty.

Max knew the girl was a street kid. It was the lost, desperate, caged animal look on her 
face that showed years of suffering and fighting for her life that shone from her 
intelligent eyes. But along with that was something Max wasn't used to seeing on a pulse 
victim; cockiness. And not just drug-dealer cockiness. It was attitude that displayed an 
eagerness for a fight and an assurance she would win it.

"Who's the kid?" Max asked, breaking the silence.

Logan winced and covered up the moment with faux-cheerfulness. "Hey Max! This is 
Jackie."

Jack shot him a look. "Jack," he amended. "One of… no, my best informant. She's here 
to drop off a file and grab some hot food."

"We sure don't get much of that," Jack muttered. She brightened a bit. "So who the hell 
are you?" she asked Max.

Max glared back at her with the wish of a thousand deaths. Jack took no notice. "I'm 
Eyes' legs."

Jack snickered. "I figured that. What specific pair? Or aren't they handing out names to 
extremities these days?"

Max opened her mouth to retort, but Logan cut her off. "Dinner?" he asked hopefully.

She hesitated, then sat roughly into a chair by Logan. 

"So Cale," Jack said with a grin. "What ya got for me this time? Huh?"

"I need you to find Williams. I know he has that file and I'm scared that someone's offed 
him."

Jack's expression cleared of all humor and Max noticed that she looked a great deal older 
then her mere fourteen or fifteen years. 

"I'm on it, Eyes. But I'll have to disappear for a few days. Smitz is on to me."

Logan looked extremely concerned at this news and sobered instantly. "Then you're not 
going home. You're staying here until this clears over."

She graced him with another patronizing smile, one that held a certain sadness. "Logan, 
you know that nothing clears over with these guys. Nothing ever clears over period."

She slid off the bar seat and Max got a good look at her apparel. A skin-tight camouflage 
baby teen and a pair of dark utility jeans; something Max herself would wear. A pair of 
black steel-toed combat boots completed the outfit with something that looked 
suspiciously like blood tarnishing the metal. Max once again was struck with the thought 
that if this kid weren't so hostile or bitchy, she would be very pretty. 

"Ever," she finished with a flash to her eyes. A flash of despair, Logan thought.

"So why are you an informant for Logan here if it's so dangerous?" Max asked.

Jack's eyes flashed at her. "Because it's right. And plus, you can't back down once you 
commit. Once an informant, always an informant."

"I won't let you-" Logan started.

"But you can't stop me," she snapped.

He lowered his head in defeat. You don't cage a wild soul like Jack or Max. They'll do 
what they want whether you want them to or not. 

"Fine. Just… be careful," Logan said with a dismal sigh. "And watch out for snipers. And 
you know that Smitz has got that-"

"I know, I know," Jack interrupted with a grin. "I got your back, Cale," she added as she 
walked out the door.

The room was silent for a moment and Logan took his glasses off to rub his eyes. It had 
been a stressful day.

"You okay?" Max asked cautiously.

Logan appreciated the effort more then he wanted to admit. "Yeah… yeah, I'm okay." He 
paused for a moment. "You up for a game of chess?"

Max grinned and stood up. "You're really a glutton for punishment, aren't you?"




Jack slipped into the shadows by Foggle Towers, glancing up at the distant bright 
window where a courageous man was residing. She sighed to herself as she snapped up 
her bike and revved the engine. 

Smitz was on her tail and she needed to disappear, and fast. Jack kept her eyes on the side 
of the road all the while, hoping to pick up some suspicious activities she could report 
back to Cale. When she realized that she was doing this apparently on reflex, she grimly 
thought about her earlier words. Once an informant, always an informant…