thedifferencebetween

yea really

its fog time, i do nothing when the fogs in. thats when stuff goes weird. b over soon

[And true to his word, he is. Within an hour, Jack's knocking on Harley's apartment door. He even ducked into a liquor store on the way and picked up an expensive bottle of rum, because monster puberty calls for that sort of thing. It sucks giant bullymong balls and there's no way around it. He's been through it. Literally the same thing.]

[But he can't help but be a little excited that Harley's likely becoming the same thing he is. They already have so much in common, it probably shouldn't be surprising. And it puts him in the excellent position of being able to give advice on How To Be a Bot.]

Open up, babe, the robo-expert's here!

[Harley manages to get the door open, and Jack inside, before she's fully in view; and she's not cowering, or anything like that. It's just that she's still not wearing pants. That's totally the reason.

The apartment is small; a studio, double bed shoved into the corner opposite the nook that barely qualifies as a kitchen. It's dingier than a dorm room; the walls are a faded beige that suggests they were once white. All the furniture is impersonal, sturdy and well-used, with names carved into the wood of the desk, and the stuffing coming out of one arm of the couch. The window above the couch is open; an ashtray and a half-empty glass of wine sit on the sill. The only other mark of anything personal, from the door at least, sits near her laptop; two small plastic figurines, one of a hyena mid-giggle, and the other inexplicably of a beaver wearing a tutu and a tiara. The beaver isn't larger than her thumb.

Harley herself is much more of a spectacle. And it isn't even her leg that catches the eye first. It's her hair.

Gone is the dyed blonde hair that hits about her chin. In it's place is- something else, something thin and fine enough that it could be hair. Tangled and wild, it spreads across her shoulders and down her bad, long enough to hit halfway down to her breasts. It's also lit up, glowing with a steady soft light that seems to come from every strand. Yellow-white up near her scalp, about halfway down it fades to blue and pink, one colour to each side of her face.

The periwinkle blue metal leg coming out from under the hem of her button-down shirt is almost anti-climactic, in comparison. It doesn't gleam smooth and polished, either; the metal is burnished to a shine, but it's made up of irregularly-shaped pieces, the lines black where pieces meet and intersect like a broken vase someone had glued back together. The lines of her knee and toes are clearer, metal sliding against itself like a well-oiled- well- machine. High on her thigh, the tattooed doodles are gone, replaced by the largest single pieces of metal; three pale pink diamonds, an eye-catching contrast to the blue of the rest.

She still hasn't bothered to put on pants.

Harley lifts her hands, when the door is shut behind him. Her jaw is tight, lips pressed into a thin line, and standing, staring at him, her shoulders shift uncomfortably. There's the faintest noise of metal clinking against itself, when she moves.]

Well? Get a good look, I guess.

Edited 2020-09-05 02:35 (UTC)

[Jack lets out a low, long whistling sound as he looks Harley over. He ignores her apartment, for the most part, much more interested in her changes.

Oh yeah. She's a simulacrum, he can tell by the hair alone. That's not organic. He sets the bottle down on the nearest flat surface and circles her, the light in his eyes gleaming brightly.]

I'm looking.

[His gaze moves to her leg, the catalyst for this whole impromptu visit. It's well crafted, articulated...he crouches down to peer closely at the joints and the seams. For once, Jack is focused and serious. There's no idle chatter, no jokes.]

Can you tell if anything's changed inside?

[Even as he asks, he's reaching to nudge her shirt out of the way to get a good look at where the robotic leg joins the rest of her.]

[Harley's not sure what she expected from Jack. Probably that same, easy-going attitude, the one he exuded even when she was capslocking insults at him. If anyone in this miserable, fog-ridden nightmare roller coaster could make her feel better about what was now attached to her hip- and her scalp- it was this man. So the serious attitude catches her off-guard; she blinks, breath catching when he crouches before her, and finds herself tugging the shirt up on that side, letting him inspect her.

The join is right where her thigh meets her hip, high on her leg. It's half-hidden by the black lace of her underwear, but it's obvious on sight; a thin, straight welding seam where flesh meets metal.

His question has Harley swallowing around a suddenly tight throat.] I- inside? [Her stomach lurches, but it's an empty- literally- threat. She presses a hand to it anyway, then slides it up, pressing against her ribs, feeing the muscles in her arm.] I don't- no, I- I don't think so. [Jesus, but what if it has? What if there's nothing but circuitry and wires under her skin?]

Is my face going to fall off?

[She sounds even younger, when she says it; and the look in her eyes isn't anything but fear. Her bluster lasted maybe a minute after he walked into the door. Swell, Harley girl.]

[Jack leans back and tilts his head back further to look up at her.]

Hey, relax, you're okay. And your face probably isn't gonna fall off, that was probably a me thing. I had some face stuff going on before, don't worry about it.

[He stands back up and gently takes her by the shoulders, trying to be reassuring and comforting. He gets it, this is scary as fuck. Having your very self change and mutate without any control over it? The absolute shits.]

Come on, sit down. Good news is...it looks like you've got some quality cybernetics going on! And you've got me, a dude who's been living the mechanical life for a couple of years. I'm gonna get you through this, Harley.

[Her expression goes briefly baffled, mouthing the words some face stuff back at him; but she lets him guide her over to the sofa, the open window showing the foggy view outside. She shouldn't find it as comforting as she does. She doesn't need anyone, especially a boy, to get her through anything. But his hands are solid on her shoulders, and right about now, they feel like the only thing keeping her from flying apart into a million pieces.]

Promise?

[It's almost a whisper, and out of her mouth before she can stop it. Harley blinks; glances away, clearing her throat.] I mean, uh- [Say some, Harley, say anything.] It's- is- is it really quality? Because it looks like someone put it together from scraps.

[Her hair moves, when she looks away; a shift where its caught between Jack's hands and her shoulders. It could be entirely natural; except for how the glowing fiber optic strands almost seem to press up into his touch, a subtle shifting against his palms that can't be explained by a breeze. One lock falls forward over his metal hand, the end starting to curl around the tip of his longest finger.]

But the joints are good, you got a hell of a range of motion, and don't knock scrap metal. Built some of my coolest shit out of scraps.

[He sits with her, putting his arm around her shoulders and giving her a comforting squeeze. It's so much easier to manage being comforting to people he's sleeping with. Or maybe it's just that he can actually relate to this problem. But either way, logically it's in his best interest to be sympathetic and helpful in this situation.]

And here's the biggest thing. That? Yeah, that's metal and everything, but it's a human leg. Not a slinky, not a series of balls, nothing crazy or weird. And these....

[His fingers move a little, lifting the curious strands of fiber optics carefully and turning them slightly to get a better look. Oh, that is just fantastic.]

These are cool as hell. Kinda remind me of my head wires, ya know? So this all points to you being the kind of robot I am, cyborg-type. Hell, you've already got synthetic hair! Which means you aren't likely to have anything weird for a head like a radio or a rubik's cube. And here's the biggest positive for robo-life! We don't eat meat. We take energy from people, no bloody mess or morally struggling with eating hunks of Jim Bob or whoever. We feed clean.

[There's no such hesitation, when he puts his arm around her; Harley curls closer when he does, her leg- her meat leg- tucked up underneath her. The metal one stays out, toes brushing the carpet, where she can keep an eye on it.]

It better have a hell of a range of motion. Getting limbs getting chopped off and replaced is one thing; trading down, I think really might drive me round the ben-

[Her voice stutters and dies when he lifts the strands of fiber optic, rubbing them through his fingers; and for a moment, all Harley cab do is stare at his hand, wide-eyed. Because she can feel it. Not just up in her scalp, like normal hair being played with- which she'd always had a weakness for anyway- but she can actually feel the touch, in each and every fine strand. And it's-]

That's- okay that's weird.

[Her whole mess of bedhead shifts a little towards him, like a faint breeze is running through it. And she can feel that, too.]

That's really- weird.

[Under Jack's close inspection, every hair has a miniscule, pointed metal tip.]

Take it from me, robotics are always a step up.

[Coming from the man who's endgame had always been to transfer his brain into a robotic body.]

But weird! [No argument there. It wasn't like it was ages ago that he changed, Jack still remembers adjusting from flesh and blood to chrome and wires.] Oh yeah, it's weird as hell! Sensation is all different, you might lose some senses - I don't really smell much of anything anymore - and you might end up with no biological functions left. But ya can't look at it as losing something. Ya just traded! I mean look at it this way babe...

[He strokes her synthetic hair lightly, utterly charmed by it. He wonders if they're as mobile and articulate as his own wires, and how strong they are. He bets they're pretty strong.]

You could basically have a whole new usable limb here. I mean, ya know what I can do with my fancy wires....

[He extends his own a little, just a couple of inches, waving the wires almost playfully.]

[The fiber optic strands are much thinner than Jack's wires; in fact they nearly could pass for hair, just a bit coarser. Also the fact that they glow. And Harley almost swoons when he strokes his hand over it; her eyelashes flutter, and she sucks in a slow breath through her teeth. It's like every delicate strand shoots tiny sparks down her spine.

Hell. Maybe it does.]

Hooooly shit, Jack. [A faint flush starts to bloom in her face.] That's- Christ, no wonder you like it so much.

[The idea of trading brings the ghost of a smile to her face; or maybe it's his tentacle wires, waving at her like they're saying hello.] I don't know about that. What'd I use it for, anyway? To hold my beer when I go in for a kiss? [She scoots a little closer, her new metal leg sliding up and over his knee; and Harley reaches to brush her hand through his own wires.] Hey there, boys. Looking good.

Right?

[Jack chuckles, reaching with his free hand to explore her new robotic leg in more tactile detail, running his fingers over her jointed knee. He's honestly never had a chance to really get up close and personal with another sim before. What's he gonna do, start poking at Mini-Jack? She's a friggin kid, that'd be weird. And Zach had never consented to allowing Jack to study him before he vanished.]

And come on...think about it. Practical uses, sexy uses, strangling assholes uses... Harley, you are turning into something that's only gonna make you more badass and tough. Imagine the super cool, freaky robot sex we can have. Imagine walking into a room and knowing everybody in there knows you're one of the most powerful, dangerous things around.

[His own wires wrap around her fingers, sliding between them. He can't express just how awesome it can be to be a robot! Mostly. Sure, there's some...not so great side effects, but she might not even get them so why bring them up? Besides...much as Jack likes her, he's not about to just hand her one of his biggest and easiest to exploit weaknesses.]

And you know I dig metal.

[She can feel his hands on the metal, too, which is somehow even weirder than feeling with her hair. Like, it's metal. How the hell can she feel with it?? But feel she can, from the fabric of the couch under weird skeletal toes to his fingers tracing the seams between the metal plates on her thigh.

And her eyes stay on his, wide and anxious; but the smile tugs wider on her face, lips starting to curl. Until he gets to his last imagining; then, Harley's lips part, drawing in a breath, because she is picturing it. Being taken seriously. Back home, the only thing she's known for is being someone's ex; people look at her and sneer, or laugh, or tell her to sit down and shut the hell up. But to walk in somewhere, and get respect- even a little fear- to have that kind of power-

She's tugging him forward by the wires tangled with her fingers, and her lips catch against his stiff ones. It doesn't even bother her, anymore; she pulls away enough to flick her tongue against his mouth, and when hers makes contact again, lips slide slick over his own.

Some of the hair on one shoulder lifts entirely up, this time; two small locks of it reach for him, brushing against his cheek, his jaw. Harley, eyes closed, doesn't notice.]

[It's a rare partner who isn't unnerved by Jack's immobile face. It's one of those things that just is, easy enough to ignore. But god is it nice when he finds someone who doesn't care. So he can't actively participate in kissing or anything like that, it still feels nice. It's still something he enjoys. And he can lean into it, tip his head to alter the angle and at least offer the impression of returning the kiss.]

I bet you're gonna look so cool when you finish changing.

[Another bonus - not needing his mouth to talk.

While Harley might not notice her synthetic hair exploring, Jack does. He untangles a few of his own wires from the bundle she's gripping and extends them down to slide against her fiber optics. This is hands down the best way to start exploring all the little aspects of Harley's new changes.]

I can't wait to see all the cool shit you're gonna be able to do. Ya gotta let me take ya out hunting when it's time...

[That knocks her right off the ledge again. Finish changing- nope. That's going to be one of those things she Does Not Thing About. One thing at a freaking time.

But there's still a spark in her eyes, when she pulls away; and this time the smile is a sharp little grin, looking up at him.] Aw, Handsome, you want to go raise a little hell, all you ever got to do is ask. [The light catches her attention from the corner of her eye- something that's probably going to happen a lot, for awhile- and she stares at hair lifting up on its own, twining around and between his wires.]

Okay, that's weird. It's like- like feeling your ear wiggle. I'm not doing anything, I swear. [She can almost feel how it moves- and there's a jolt at the clumsy reaching and twining the strands seem to be doing. But there's a tremble in them, too; and a moment later the locks fall limp again, rippling in his direction but otherwise laying still. Harley blinks, and tries to remember what they were talking about.]

Uh, I- I mean- okay, I'll be honest, I wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of chomping down on someone like they were a Big Mac. [Her fingers untwine from his wires too, shifting to rest against his chest as she eases closer. Both legs come up, to stretch over his lap.] I think I could have handled drinking blood- that's not too bad, and everyone knows vampires are cool. But actual eating? No way Jose. It's- I guess it's kind of nice. Knowing at least that I don't have to worry about.

You and me both, babe.

[Jack shifts a little to hold Harley more comfortably as she moves more into his lap. He chuckles some, understanding exactly what she means about feeling your body do something you didn't tell it to do. Just one of those robot things.]

The planet I owned and was trying to clean up back home...covered in cannibals. And not just 'oh, we're people who eat other people!' kind of cannibals, I'm talking...batshit attempts at humanity that live in their own waste and barely have a language. They scream about poop and meat and wear other people's skin. Really, really gives a guy some pretty strong feelings about chowing down on Neighbor Steak. I mean I'll prep it for other people, that's fine, nothing against cutting up a dead body. But that's business. Couldn't eat it myself. My buddy from back home, he got stuck eating meat for a while, dude had a full on breakdown the first time. And this is a guy who's killed like hundreds of people and space monsters, he's not exactly easy to shock.

[But he'd still come home shaking and pale and practically unable to speak. That had been an awkward night. Real awkward night. He still remembers sitting in that little bathroom in the old duplex they'd shared, trying to think of something to say and not being able to. But whatever, Tim was fine and he'd used his magic cow coins to switch over to a liquid diet anyway. No big loss that Jack hadn't been very helpful during his crisis.]

But we just take energy, it's pretty clean and not-traumatizing. It's like electrocuting somebody. You can come watch me, next time I grab a meal.

[Harley's a big fan of 'live and let live,' but his description has even her nose wrinkling.] Gross. Gross-a-rooni. My city back home, Gotham, has some crazies, but even there cannibalism's never much taken off as a fad. Only people I know who eat people are ones who aren't really human themselves, you know? And you can't really call it cannibalism if someone who's half-shark eats a regular meat person.

[There's no denying the way her eyes light up, at the offer. Teeth catch against her lower lip, legs shifting against his.]

I'd like that. Always enjoyed watching a man who knows his business go to work. [There's a moment of indecision; but it's a quick one.] Do you got to kill, every time? Because if that's a no, you could take a little sip off me, if you wanted. I already got nibbled by a vampire and a little bit filled with light by an angel- do not recommend the latter, that hurt like hell. [She shrugs.] I'dve offered before, but I already know what electroshock feels like.

You've got no idea! Pandora...it's a polluted wasteland full of lawless, baby-eating psychopaths. The only safe places are the Hyperion colonies and holy shit does it take a stupid amount of money and resources to protect'em! But I'm somehow the bad guy for wanting to just wipe out the baby-eating psychopaths! How the hell does that make any sense? I'm sorry, you start sleeping in your own shit and barbecuing all your neighbors for funsies, you give up the right to be treated like a human being. We live in literal monster land, and most actual monsters I meet are more human than what's living on Pandora.

[It's one of those topics Jack never misses an opportunity to go off on. Even though he's never going to see Pandora again it doesn't matter. Nacho piss smelling shithole. Of all the planets to be chock full of the rarest and most useful mineral in the galaxy....

But there's way more pertinent and happier things to focus on right now. Predominantly the amazing quasi-cyborg in his lap.]

Anyway...hell, I like showing off! And, uh...I don't know, actually? I've never done it without killing anybody, but I've never tried. Uh...I do know electricity fucks me up, though. It's the closest thing to getting high I've got as a robot. Dunno if that would do anything to ya at this point. Other hand, I've given plenty of little zaps during sex before without doing any damage or anything, so I probably could. How about you watch me do it before we give a yay or nay on that one.

[This rant is about when it finally occurs to Harley that she may not be getting the whole story on what was actually doing with that planet. Not that there probably aren't baby-eating degenerates who roll around in their own waste somewhere in the universe- heck, her hyena Bruce does at least one of those things, and he's one of her best friends in any universe- but somehow I'm the bad guy pings her radar.

In Harley's experience? If other people think you're the bad guy, you probably are.

Except Batman. His opinion doesn't count, that guy's a lunatic.

But it doesn't make much difference to the here and now; she's snuggled close, and catching pale blue metal out of the corner of her eye isn't making her stomach drop nearly as much as it did earlier.][But the idea of watching him is appealing. More than appealing.] And hey, that's a bonus! I mean at least you got some way to- voluntarily overvoltage? ...I'm going to have to come up with a whole new set of puns. Oh god, I'm going to have to actually learn how a computer works, aren't I?

[Angling one arm around Jack, Harley swipes a pack of cigarettes and an ashtray from where they sit on the windowsill.] Speaking off overvoltaging, you mind? Since you can't smell and all. I've been chainsmoking pretty much since I woke up. So you really built robots? Like real Skynet AI shit, or more the Danger Will Robinson kind? They weren't the mean trashcan-shaped ones from that one British kid's show, right?

Not as long as ya let me hold a lit one and pretend I can still enjoy the sweet rush of nicotine. Smoked from when I was a teenager right up until I didn't have lungs anymore. And eh...having some understanding of computers and complex electric systems wouldn't be a bad idea. If ya end up having to patch yourself up, it'll come in handy.

[Lord knows he's had to do enough minor repairs on himself. But he's more than capable of it. And sure, he can patch up other sims, but who's to say he's always gonna be able to do a patch job at the drop of a hat? He's got a life, he's got commitments and people who depend on him. It'd be a good idea to give Harley some tips and quick lessons. Robo first aide.]

And nah, nothing like that. I specialized in labor and combat robots. Always seemed a no-brainer to me. Why the hell would you use people for dangerous work or fighting off bandit hordes when you can use robots? But I only dabbled a little in full on AI. It...it gets messy, it gets weird, opens up all kinds of moral and philosophical worm cans.... I don't wanna deal with all that.

[Very few things in Jack's past bother him. He's a master at justifying and re-framing most of what he does to fit his own narrative where he is the chosen hero. But there's a small handful of choices that gnaw at the corners of his mind and make him uncomfortable when he thinks about them too deeply. His utilization - and consequential destruction - of a fully developed AI is one of them.]

Loader-bots were my big success. Human-shaped in that they got two legs and two arms and something you could call a head, but they don't look human. Again, that gets really weird really quick!

[No cigarettes, no liquor, probably no anything else- Harley hopes like hell that a little electrocution is a good high. That sucks.] Tell you what- I'll split one with you. That way yours don't go out. [Lighting a cigarette, she takes a drag from it, and tilts her head back to blow smoke out the window, offering it to him.]

No one told me monsterdom would come with homework. [...Okay, Slade had alluded to it, but she thought he was joking!] All right, I'll steal a book from the library or something. Stay in and get my nerd on.

[She nods along as he talks.] Some of that back home, too; all drones and aerial surveillance and snooping into everything. No actual robot enforcers, yet- well, [She has to amend, tilting her head.] There were some pretty cool robot suits, but they always had a meat person in them.

But a Loader-bot? No offense- they sound like I'd hire a couple of help me move out of my apartment. What do they load, exactly?

I'll bring ya some books from the labs, they're gonna be more useful than anything you find in the library.

[They may not be very ahead of the local tech scene, but they are ahead of it. Even so, Jack's own robotics work in Ryslig is mostly mass produced toys and fancy toasters.

He takes the cigarette, the feel familiar. It does suck not being able to smoke or drink or even eat a cheeseburger, but...what can you do? It's not like he has the physical cravings anymore.]

Whatever they were told to load! They clean, they fix things, they build things, they handle chemical waste and bomb components, hell they'll wipe your ass if you tell'em to! Plus they also have rocket launchers and lasers for a wide variety of practical applications. And I made these other robots that can just spit'em out like that. Dozens of loader-bots in a minute. And those also have rocket launchers and lasers, cuz really why build any robot if it's not gonna have rocket launchers and lasers?

[He passes the cigarette back, lost in fond thoughts of his massive robot army.]

Oh, and I did make a giant ass mech suit for myself, speaking of meat people inside robots.

[There's a brief moment where her smile is broad and bright; and Harley can almost forget that if she stood real still in a corner she could pass for a lamp. One thumb reaches up, brushes against his cheek.]

Ain't you sweet. Promise I won't spill anything on them.

[...Okay, there's definitely something about Jack that isn't quite adding up. From the way he talks, she'd assumed he was just some corporate CEO, like the Steve Jobs of the future, maybe. But first the stuff about the planet, and now this whole thing about cranking out war machine bots by the who knew how many- another puff on the cigarette, and Harley offers it back, turning to face him a little more fully.]

... Handsome, how'd you acquire that planet of yours? You buy it? Or did you- you know- just take it?

Claimed it, I guess is the best way to put it.

[Jack answers with no hesitation as he snags the offered cigarette. He's never hid his history here, or what sort of person he is. Why should he? Besides, he likes talking about it. He was essentially an emperor back home, who wouldn't wanna talk about that? ]

So, at the point in time I come from, space is still being explored. It's friggin huge, we've mapped out five galaxies so far, I'm in the sixth. And on the frontier, it's a corporatocracy. Corporations are in charge, there's no...countries or anything anymore, we gave up on that. It's corporations, and corporations have their planets, and you are whatever corporation runs your planet. My company, Hyperion, is the biggest and richest one!

Now Pandora...it used belong to Dahl, another company. But they just stripped it and fucked with it and decided not to bother with it. Dumped their worst criminals there and took off, wham, bam, fuck you ma'am. Nobody wanted it, which is how it got overrun with bandits and cannibals and terrible space monsters. I was just a mid-level employee back then, but I was working my way up the ladder, real go getter. Came up from friggin nothing. And I did some digging into Pandora, figured out it was chock full of a super rare and priceless mineral, and got Hyperion to claim it. I got put in charge of overseeing it and building a space station over it. And when I took over Hyperion, I took over everything.

[He'd be grinning proudly if he could be. Instead, the lights in his eyes just glow brighter and his tone gets more excited as he tells the story. And he's giving the abridged version, not even getting into the whole fighting the many tentacles horrors.]

And Hyperion loved me. I was, hands down, the most popular president there ever was. Everybody wanted to be me, be close to me, my face was on everything...you outta check out my display at the museum.

[It's not really therapist mode, that Harley's going in to. She did start doing it as a therapist, but hanging out with Gotham's crazies, you got to learn to take anyone's story as they give it to you. You learn more about someone from how they see reality, than by trying to argue with them that your version is the correct one. And heck; who's to say that it is?

That's why she nods along, trading the cigarette back and forth with him, and keeps her expression open and the smile on her face.] I just bet. A charmer like you, coupled with actual competency? That puts you ahead of eighty percent of the suit-wearers that I know, at least.

[It's not even a little bit of a lie. Whoever else Jack is, he's clearly not the all-bluster-no-muster type.]

So what did you do next? You got this big, pretty planet; all that good shit under the surface; populated by a whole bunch of psychos and crazies. You've got this whole company at your fingertips. How'd you get to the goods?

[Harley can handle a lot of crazy; but if he says that he killed them all and stripped the planet, she might have to ask him to leave. Because there's a body count, and then there's a body count.]

That's a long ass story! A good one, trust me, but it's long. Starts with these assholes trying to invade my space station, ends with me as president of Hyperion. But along the way I set up mining facilities, protected by robots. Then came colonies, but...yeah, not all of'em did so great on account of again, the bandits and cannibals.

[Jack sighs, shaking his head. There's so much potential to Pandora! It could have been a paradise! But no, of course not, it had to be overrun with the worst dregs of what passed for humanity.]

There's no law on Pandora, there's no respect for life. I can't even say life's cheap, cuz that would imply they put any value on it at all! No, they just kill each other all damn day. They kill anybody who ends up there. And look...sure, killing somebody to take what they have is the rule pretty much anywhere in space. And god knows I enjoy strangling an asshole or shooting a traitor or just plowing through my enemies with a huge ass rocket. Not gonna begrudge anybody that. But that's just all they do. If you're Mr. and Mrs. Average Hyperion Citizen on any other Hyperion planet, you know you can take your family out for a walk and no one's gonna blow your head off. You can't even leave your house on some parts of Pandora. Nobody's safe. Hell, those bastards were able to take out my grandma, and she was the toughest, meanest broad that ever lived.

[Harly has, it seems, stumbled onto one of Jack's favorite subjects. Once he gets going....]

We can just switch to action here!

Works for me!

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