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[Locked to Michael Vaughn, Sydney Bristow, and several people who don't exist here anyway]
[[OOC: Jack Bristow is too manly for regular typeface. He prefers BIG RED ALLCAPS, as you can clearly see.]]
FOR THE SAKE OF NOT WASTING ANY TIME- EITHER MINE OR YOURS- I'LL MAKE THIS BRIEF. I DON'T HAVE TO INTRODUCE MYSELF. THE JOURNALING SYSTEM GIVES YOU A NAME AND IF I'M ADDRESSING THIS TO YOU, THEN YOU ALREADY KNOW WHO I AM, UNLESS BY SOME ( Read more... ) -
[fic] And the men who try to save their skins are cowards and are cursed.
Jack's made his way past the rows of the desperate and depraved too many times in his life, caged in their neat little prisons with little hope of ever leaving them. Interrogations, the final word before a final walk to death row, and, on two occasions, he was actually one of them, being pushed and prodded towards a cell and left there to rot, no ( Read more... ) -
OOC: Jack's Playlist
....Ignore the fact that you may have seen this before. It was wonked out and, uh.... NOW IT HAS YOUTUBE LINKS. *shifty*
( Come in, she said, I'll give you shelter from the storm... ) -
[OOC] Placeholder
Jack Bristow does not sleep. He waits.
The chief export of Jack Bristow is pain.
Jack Bristow doesn't go hunting. Hunting implies the possibility of failure. Jack Bristow goes killing.
Crop circles are Jack Bristow's way of telling the world that sometimes corn needs to lie the fuck down.
Jack Bristow is the only human being to display the Heisenberg ( Read more... )
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