ic inbox

[headjacked]

Heyyyyyyyy, kiddo, you've reached me. Me who is Rhys. Anyway, not sure why you're trying to get in contact with the king of the dweebs, but I'm sure you've got your reasons. Reasons you should probably re-examine. I'm just sayin'.

Last chance to back out.

No?

Don't say I didn't warn ya.

Comments

[phaseshifter]

Please. An army would require a common goal and cohesive leadership. Get multiple Jacks in a room and you'd spend five minutes complimenting each others' abs before turning on each other. You couldn't work together, because none of you would share. All this assuming you would get a parade of Rhyses with their own Jacks. You might get one from before all that.

[ here it comes ]

You could even get an Angel from before everything went to heck in the control core. Or one who's still a child. She'd need her dad, don't you think? You've seen how many kids show up here. And what happens to them.

[ BABBY BOMB DEPLOYED ]

[headjacked]

[ Babby bombs are an excellent way of getting Jack to go from sneering to devastated-looking in seconds. Target: obliterated. He's gone again, for a few seconds, then a few minutes.

But he comes back. He's always back. ]

'Like I have any real choice.'

[phaseshifter]

Of course there's a choice. I wouldn't be asking you if there wasn't.

[ He gets that much credit, at least. Despite everything. And after a momentary pause, Angel offers her fist for bumping. ]

Thank you.

[ Intangible fistbumps aren't, like, hugs, but. BABBY STEPS. ]