Sands turns his face trying to hide a smile. Giving a sigh he goes into the kitchen and comes back with a bandanna like the one the pirate wears. It has a small bulge and when Sands hands it to his friend, it's damp and cold. He was keeping it in the freezer.
"I think I might be insane, Jack." This is news as far as he's concerned.
As Sands walks to the freezer, Jack makes a bet with himself about what he's going to find.
He could not have been more wrong. When he peels back the cloth and peeks, something peeks back at him. Something he normally only sees when he looks in the mirror.
"Uh huh. Am I to guess that there's a very handsome corpse somewhere? It bears a striking resemblance to us, I'm guessing?" He pries the cloth open a bit more and pokes, producing a disgusting crunchy noise. "Crispy! Why are you giving me these? Eye transplant?"
Sands has a guilty look. But he doesn't feel guilty he feels stupid. He's becoming confused on if his plan is completely logical. Being in Murdoc's brain had him questioning a lot of the things he was doing. Now that he's in his own it's kind of blurred for him.
"It could cure you." He snatches the bundle back and wraps it tightly. Souvenirs are important.
Jack gives Sands a piercing, intense look that, of course, Sands cannot see. Living on the nexus as they do, there's always a chance that someone you're talking to is batshit crazy because they drank something cursed, or got gassed by a Batman villain or something.
Of course, there's always the chance that Sands is just crazy because he's...well...Sands.
"Cure me. How's that, mate?" Although he's currently operating under the assumption that Sands has gone mad, he's still absurdly touched that the stoic agent is that concerned for him.
"I have come across a theory. When our alternate dies it's believed in some circles that the life force is divided up between the others. Like those charming tribes, that share your hair style, eat a man to gain his power. Did I ever tell you that story about the African guerrilla fighter I met with?" Sands gets off track easily. This story has nothing to do with the problem at hand.
Jack makes a clucking noise with his mouth. It's a thoughtful sort of noise. "Uh huh. I think I see where you're going with this. Exactly how many me's have you killed, mate? How do you know they're other me's? How do you know I'm me? Shit, how do I know I'm me? Oh gods, I've gone all philosophical." He pauses to think. "Guerrilla fighter, eh?"
Sands gives him a look like he's stupid. "I know you." He also ignores that first question in favor of the better one.
"So I've been sent to Africa on assignment. We were supplying war lord wannabes and training them to take out the top dog. Just for shits and giggles as far as I could tell. I meet with the guy and he's eating dinner. Invites me to the table but not a plate or drink. I think it's a power trip and I'm not eating meat in that shit stained hut anyway. After we trade goods and shake hands he tells me this story and then offers me a big hunk of human tongue on his fork. Fucking crazy mook."
The agent nods as if he just doesn't get how so many insane people are in this world but accepts it.
Jack nearly argues just out of habit, but he thinks better of it. After all, he's sure that he would know Sands anywhere too. The paranoid part of him still picks at the idea that Sands has lured him here to kill him in some sort of whacko attempt to save him. He thinks there's a kind of ironic amusement to the idea of being killed that way.
Naturally, Jack starts with the important point. "So did you eat it?" In his travels, Jack has eaten some truly horrific things. "It's not bad, you know. Tongue. I've had it. And other things, too." He clears his throat and goes on. "So, is this your roundabout way of telling me that you've been eating the me's you killed? And would you be repelled if I told you I found that somewhat attractive?"
It should be noted that there is an almost entire Jack wrapped in a body bag, in the hall closet. Paranoid is smart at this juncture.
"Of course not. I shot the war lord." Duh, Jack. "You can't do that. It upsets the balance." Never mind the fact he's doing this. Because if it worked Sands really would kill his own Jack. His thought process doesn't grasp that part yet but soon afterward he would have to. Either way the plan is bunk.
Sands sighs. "How are you in any way me? I just don't understand that. I was merely comparing the age old theory to the recent one I've heard in the nexus. I have never eaten human flesh. Much less yours. They were, however, thorughly searched." If Sands didn't mistake that comment for an oral sex reference he would have asked. Too bad that one passed him by.
"Stop eating people." He shakes finger at him and talks to him as if he was the other Jack. Because Sands gets very confused on that point. All the Jack's are pretty much one (slightly different) mind. Jack is Jack is Jack. "Bad pirate. Very bad
( ... )
Jack wouldn't be surprised to hear that. He thought he caught a whiff of death when he walked in the room, but Sands' cigarette smoke and Jack's cancer makes it hard for him to distinguish
( ... )
"Well, that's different isn't it? A man has to do what a man has to do." The agent shrugs that off. As long as it wasn't some kind of ritualized thing for power. The laughing is ignored but when Jack laughs harder he has no idea what it's about. The spitting causes a hissy fit.
"Christ! Don't just-- did you just spit blacked lung on my floor?! Fuck you!" Sands runs off for a mop.
He comes back growling at his friend and picturing him in agony under electrodes. Handing him a coffee cup, he shakes his head at the floor. "Fuckmook. Where is it?"
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He was keeping it in the freezer.
"I think I might be insane, Jack." This is news as far as he's concerned.
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He could not have been more wrong. When he peels back the cloth and peeks, something peeks back at him. Something he normally only sees when he looks in the mirror.
"Uh huh. Am I to guess that there's a very handsome corpse somewhere? It bears a striking resemblance to us, I'm guessing?" He pries the cloth open a bit more and pokes, producing a disgusting crunchy noise. "Crispy! Why are you giving me these? Eye transplant?"
Reply
"It could cure you." He snatches the bundle back and wraps it tightly. Souvenirs are important.
Reply
Of course, there's always the chance that Sands is just crazy because he's...well...Sands.
"Cure me. How's that, mate?" Although he's currently operating under the assumption that Sands has gone mad, he's still absurdly touched that the stoic agent is that concerned for him.
Reply
Sands gets off track easily. This story has nothing to do with the problem at hand.
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"I know you." He also ignores that first question in favor of the better one.
"So I've been sent to Africa on assignment. We were supplying war lord wannabes and training them to take out the top dog. Just for shits and giggles as far as I could tell. I meet with the guy and he's eating dinner. Invites me to the table but not a plate or drink. I think it's a power trip and I'm not eating meat in that shit stained hut anyway.
After we trade goods and shake hands he tells me this story and then offers me a big hunk of human tongue on his fork. Fucking crazy mook."
The agent nods as if he just doesn't get how so many insane people are in this world but accepts it.
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Naturally, Jack starts with the important point. "So did you eat it?" In his travels, Jack has eaten some truly horrific things. "It's not bad, you know. Tongue. I've had it. And other things, too." He clears his throat and goes on. "So, is this your roundabout way of telling me that you've been eating the me's you killed? And would you be repelled if I told you I found that somewhat attractive?"
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Paranoid is smart at this juncture.
"Of course not. I shot the war lord." Duh, Jack.
"You can't do that. It upsets the balance." Never mind the fact he's doing this. Because if it worked Sands really would kill his own Jack. His thought process doesn't grasp that part yet but soon afterward he would have to. Either way the plan is bunk.
Sands sighs. "How are you in any way me? I just don't understand that. I was merely comparing the age old theory to the recent one I've heard in the nexus. I have never eaten human flesh. Much less yours.
They were, however, thorughly searched."
If Sands didn't mistake that comment for an oral sex reference he would have asked. Too bad that one passed him by.
"Stop eating people." He shakes finger at him and talks to him as if he was the other Jack. Because Sands gets very confused on that point. All the Jack's are pretty much one (slightly different) mind. Jack is Jack is Jack.
"Bad pirate. Very bad ( ... )
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The laughing is ignored but when Jack laughs harder he has no idea what it's about. The spitting causes a hissy fit.
"Christ! Don't just-- did you just spit blacked lung on my floor?! Fuck you!" Sands runs off for a mop.
He comes back growling at his friend and picturing him in agony under electrodes. Handing him a coffee cup, he shakes his head at the floor.
"Fuckmook. Where is it?"
Reply
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