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Who: Handsome Jack + Fenris
Where: Jack's home
When: W4D3
Summary: Sometimes if you're a friendless loser, you have to hire people to make sure you don't drop dead.
Restrictions/Warnings: Jack might get a little crazy but hey at least not as bad as the last few logs I posted

[ This wasn't exactly the ideal situation.

He'd been okay (at least so much as one could be) with his body double playing nurse, because there was a certain amount of weakness that he was okay with showing his mirror image. Handsome Jack was meant to be the image of some kind of cocky, untouchable figure, and he did a hell of a lot to keep that image going. It helped him hold onto his part of Intake with an iron fist, because no matter what the scumbags threw at him, he could throw it right back tenfold. So, being this ill? Definitely against that image. But more than that, there was the part that had caused Jack to send Tim away on a mission to find a cure or something to alleviate the symptoms as soon as possible and at any cost. Jack had seen how this progressed in the facility when it first appeared. He knew where it went. And Handsome Jack definitely wasn't going to die from some illness.

But, there was something to be said for not being alone with his own thoughts. Having someone else with him was a distraction from the visions of fire, the way he saw cracked rock underneath his feet, lava pouring from his sink, and just out of the corner of his eye sometimes, he swear he saw a purple glow that was familiar in a way he couldn't place. He knew the color, but whatever it was associated with in his mind he could never pull forth. The longer he sat alone, the hotter that lava (no, he reminds himself, the fever) felt, and the more a manic energy started to take over as he would try to explore what he was seeing, looking for that purple tinted glow.

Finally, desperately, he picks up the phone and makes a call. ]

Yo— [ His voice sounds shaky, even to his own ears, but he laughs it off as he tries to regain his composure. ]

Yeah, this is Handsome Jack. Send an Enforcer over to my place pronto, and- Ah, ah— [ They start to interrupt, but he interrupts right back ] Don't worry about it, sweetcheeks. I'll take care of the paperwork, so just. I dunno, pick someone who looks bored. That's your half, I'll do the other later.

[ Which is all he feels he needs to say, and it seems like the person on the other side of the line either agrees or just wants to be done with him. Regardless, it's a short conversation, and Jack just sits back on his couch and waits. Part of him realizes that having to call an Enforcer of all people is- Well, that's gotta be bottom of the barrel desperate. But, hey. At least he can count on them to be at least decently committed to the idea of looking out for him. They don't exactly take well to disobedience in their ranks.

Though as he waits, he's stuck in that loop again. It's fire, lava, and a monster emerging from it. It's so bizarrely vivid that he can't get it out of his head, but— He has to. Because, seriously. Even in this state, he knows this is crazy.

So he tries to push that idea out of his head, and he's hoping that they'll at least send over an Enforcer with at least half of a brain. He definitely wouldn't be complaining for the distraction. ]

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[ Fenris is restless. Old Town still thrums with a festival air, but there's a desperate, shrill pitch to the atmosphere now, a sense of madness that undercuts the last bit of revelry. The spread of sickness has whipped people into a panic, and the ensuing conflicts offer plenty to keep the Enforcers busy.

Fenris had been out there helping with damage control, but a recent scuffle injured his arm--thus requiring a day or two of staying out of the fray. Yet he remains ever bound to the Company's whims, so when he's ordered to tend to the management, he does not question it.

But he's not smiling as he knocks on the door, either. ]

Jack? I was sent. Let me in.

[ As soon as he hears the knock on the door, Jack bursts from lounging on his couch so quickly it makes his head swim. His hand reaches up to his face, feeling the uncomfortable warmth of the artificial skin over his real skin, but it's especially concentrated over the scar underneath it. As he waves and wobbles towards the door, he thinks that he'll have to take it off. Or, he knows he will, and that's a problem. Whoever came for him, he thinks—

He walks on cracked earth and fire. He can feel the heat of lava, and the elation of something he doesn't understand. Jack's eyes look to the sky, because he knows any moment, something will pop out. Something he's been waiting for years to see, and it's here. Finally. He can see everything, or maybe he always has? ]

Shit.

[ No-- That's definitely crazy talk, and his expression twists almost as if in pain as he makes it to the door. He focuses on that over anything else, forcing away the feeling of heat under his feet.

When he opens the door, his first impression definitely isn't the best. He's pale, even gaunt, but it looks strange and uncanny with that mask in place. He smiles as if in greeting, but it's all teeth, crooked and sharp, and clearly, he's not entirely here in this moment. ]

Heyyyy buddy. Glad you- Well, not- not that you could make it, since y'didn't have a choice, but whatever!

[ He takes a step back to let Fenris come in, and Jack shakes his head as he brings a hand to his temple. ]

You're— What's your name again?

Edited 2017-02-13 05:09 (UTC)

[ If Fenris is disgusted or otherwise put off by what he sees, it doesn't show. Years of working for the Company have trained him well; he suppresses his reactions quickly, swallowing them like hot coals. His gut burns, but his face remains still, suggesting nothing more than his usual bland irritation.

He shuts the door behind him once he's let in, though he keeps his attention fixed to Jack. The man is in shambles. He's as effervescent and jovial as ever, but there's no smoothness to it now--he's stretched taut in every way, and to Fenris's mind, he looks ready either to bite or to collapse. Fenris hopes for the latter. ]

Fenris.

[ I am not your buddy, he thinks, but they both already know that.

He makes a shepherding gesture. ]

You need to lie down. Let me get you some water.

Y, Yeah- Fenris.

[ Jack says his name with a tone that seems to place importance on the name, though there's no real indication as to why that might be. There might not be one, considering how disorganized his thoughts are, but that at least has the advantage of making Jack a little more agreeable, at least in a way. He's stubborn at the best of times and proud, so being shepherded would be something he would normally recoil at, but now, he actually follows along.

He heads in the direction that Fenris indicates, which is generally back towards the couch which he's made his home in the last day or two. The area is a mess as a result: an assortment of blankets, glasses, and empty medicine packets. There's no real indication that anyone else had been here, but it doesn't seem like Jack is really in the state to take care of himself either. After all, that's why Fenris is here. ]

Water would be... Yeah, that'd be good, actually. [ His tone lights up as he seems to realize that, though he almost tosses himself on the couch. Even sick, he seems to be thrumming with energy. ] Like, is it just me, or is it a friggin' furnace in here?

[ He asks, but he raises a hand to wave it at Fenris over the top of the couch. ]

N-Nah, who am I kiddin', I know this is just a loada crap. You're fine. Right? Nnnnno sickness for you!

[ Fenris looks over the couch's disarray, particularly the bits of trash and empty glasses, and thinks that'll have to be handled. The water first, though. He grabs one of the glasses and takes it to the nearest sink, where he rinses it out before filling it up again. He doesn't speak until he's hunted down the fridge and some ice cubes, too. ]

I've been remarkably fortunate.

[ A fortune that is not to last, though he doesn't know that yet. He brings the water over, his eyes fixed to Jack's position, to the languid, boneless drape of his body. He seems liable to slip off the couch and melt onto the floor at any moment. ]

Perhaps they made me resistant.

[ He talks about it offhand, like he really doesn't know. He kneels down, offering the water. ]

In any case, this ought to help.

[ He takes the water, and there's no thanks given for it, perhaps predictably. Jack isn't exactly the type for manners normally, much less when he's not completely "here." He drinks greedily, because he's not sure if it's the fever or the fire he sees around him, but he's burning up. Though even so, he can't finish the whole glass in one go, so he pulls it away. Jack looks to the side, away from Fenris, and it's clear he's seeing something that isn't there, though he shakes his head and lifts his hand to his brow.

Even in the haze, he knows he has to seem crazy. He's not so far gone to not have doubts about those flashes of something else, but— He also couldn't explain them. Part of him wants to, because there's something about it that's more familiar than just a fever dream, but that would make it sound even crazier. He laughs at the thought, then sets the water down. ]

Made- You, what, you were another one of those, uh— Modified? God, we have a lotta those.

[ His hands return to his face as he looks at Fenris. His fingers linger at the latches off his mask, tapping almost impatiently against the metal. ]

But- But you can't say anything about this, can ya? Not if I tell you not to.

[ He cants his head to one side, slightly. Careful, as ever, to keep judgment from his face. ]

I am a Company experiment, yes.

[ He takes the water, holding it for Jack, though he keeps his eyes fixed on the other man's face (and on Jack's fingers, scrabbling against the mask). He's always had questions about Jack; things he's wondered quietly to himself about who this man is and what he really wants. But the truth is, even if Jack satisfies his curiosity, Fenris has no one to tell. Any secrets are safe. Fenris has no power, and he has no friends with power--or many friends at all. ]

Anything you say to me is confidential, regardless of the circumstances.

Hmph. Gotta wonder why they give a crap, but— Nahh, who am I kidding, it's a power thing. 'Course it is, because what else would it be. Whole- Whole scorched earth thing, I dunno—

[ Jack rambles as he waves a hand vaguely, but as soon as he drinks all the water, he sinks back onto the couch as if it were a great effort to do even that. It could be, but Jack might also be being over-dramatic. It's a little hard to tell sometimes.

Of course, he breathes out a "good" under his breath to the other half as he starts to truly fiddle with those latches. One by one, the latches on his temple and his chin click away, and with only a moment's hesitation, he pulls off the mask. It's probably a strange thing to see it taken off at all, because with how seamlessly it molded against his face, it was fairly clear that despite its simplistic appearance, it was quite high tech. And indeed, as soon as he takes it off, it seems to snap to a rigid, truly mask-like shape. ]

That's better— [ Jack sits back more comfortably, and grabs a towel that had been sitting by to wipe at his face, but he laughs as he looks back to Fenris. It reveals one of the greatest mysteries about Jack so casually that he's almost seemingly unaware of it, maybe a part of his feverish delusion, because it's clear why Jack wears the mask at all. Underneath, his face isn't only heavily scarred, but oddly so with such a distinct shape. The burn scar twists and distorts his face, and one eye is clearly blind, but even so, he grins, and it's all teeth this time. ]

No- No offense here, Fenris, nothing personal— But you tell anyone about this? I'll kill you.

[ He's not completely sure what Jack's on about, but 'power thing' rings true enough. That's the driving philosophy of the Company and the Nine, so far as he understands it. Power and control. Keeping the lower classes exhausted and starving, keeping rivals complacent. Taking as much as they can and giving nothing back. Jack has always struck Fenris as perfectly of a piece with this mindset.

He watches, keeping still, as Jack pulls off his false face. The sight of it triggers something in him, a blurry memory that sharpens as Jack sits up. A different face, just as deformed, red and pale and half-melted. A stentorian voice, screaming for a dead god.

A slight tremor runs through his arm, but other than that, Fenris betrays no reaction, neither to what's in front of him nor to what's whispering behind his eyes. ]

Who would I tell, and why would I tell them?

[ It's not like his social calendar blows up every weekend. Or any weekend. ]

[ There's relief in the sarcasm that's enough of a balm to Jack's natural paranoia to calm him, at least in part. He'll never be relaxed so long as his real face is on view. It's both his vanity and a fear of vulnerability, but they're both powerful enough that this is an exceedingly rare sight. Even those Jack would call friends (though there are very few of them) hadn't seen this, and he had no plans to show them. Now, it was only prompted by fever and the lingering, burning ghost in his mind of what had truly caused it at all.

But even so, he laughs. It's partially just a sound to fill the space and deflect from his own hesitation, but the tooth, twisted smile still turns towards Fenris. ]

Oh— Yeah, you- You don't seem like much of a socialite, guess you're right. [ Jack chuckles again, then rubs his temple in irritation. Even the couch feels hot to the touch, but he'll ignore that. ] Then don't worry about it. You- are exactly the kinda guy I was hopin' they'd send, apparently.

Yes. The soul of discretion.

[ Fenris's voice is bone-dry. He's here because he's a ghost, and always has been. A terrifying shadow, bound completely to the Company's will--or so they presume. He watches Jack laugh and twitch, observes the cut and glint of his sharp, white teeth. Notices the beads of sweat on his throat, on the ruined landscape of his burned face. ]

Perhaps you'd like a cool washcloth.

[ He stops just short of saying 'sir', because while he might agree to play caretaker, he's not going to outright cross the line into 'butler'. ]

Yeah, that- That'd be good.

[ Jack agrees easily, though he wonders if it would really help. He hopes so, but at the same time, the heat of the volcano—no, fever—might be too much for just that. But as he waits, Jack at least closes his eyes and settles back as he tries to will away those odd visions. Like, it's not the weirdest association, but a volcano? Where the hell even is a volcano, exactly? ]

Yo, Fenris— Curious, you heard of anyone else getting this crap?

[ Fenris finds what he needs--the cloth, the sink--and takes little time in returning. He wraps the damp rag in ice cubes, then presses the bundle gently to Jack's boiling forehead. ]

Quite a few. It's rampaging through Old Town at present. The people are restless for a cure.

[ He applies just a little more pressure. ]

I expect they will have to wait in line behind the likes of you, though.

[ Maybe a risky thing to say, but Jack's more out of his mind than usual. Also, probably super weak from fever. ]

[ In the haze of fever, the image of Fenris reaching out towards him (or more importantly, to his face) wavers. For a moment, he doesn't see Fenris at all, but a woman with fiery red hair. Her fist is closed, coming to his face, and Jack seizes up for the impact, but reaches out to grab Fenris's wrist. His grip is uncomfortably tight, and his expression is briefly drawn in some kind of hard to place but definitely negative emotion. It's almost dangerous, but-- Just like that, the image fades away.

Fenris comes back into view, and Jack's hand wavers, but he lets go of Fenris's wrist with a frustrated sound. It's not at Fenris, but at this sickness, or even at himself. This isn't like him. He feels incredibly vulnerable, and he despises that, but the awkwardness of that moment gets him to not speak to it. He proceeds as if it hadn't happened, because whatever that was, he definitely doesn't want to acknowledge it. Even so, his response is distracted. ]

That— I mean, yeah, obviously. That's the deal with Company-owned cures. Company gets 'em first.

[ Fenris stiffens when he's grabbed. His circuitry flashes, and he winces, mostly from the pain of controlling his own instincts. He wants to shove Jack down, brace his arm against the other man's throat--neutralize the threat. That's his unconscious response, violent and primal. Swallowing it down hurts. But he manages to keep still until Jack lets him go. He keeps his expression bland. Perhaps mildly, reasonably curious.

He murmurs. ]

What doesn't the Company own?

[ It owns him, to be sure. Does it own Jack, too? He wonders. He wonders about a lot of things, looking at Jack's scarred face. Jack might be delirious enough to tell him. He might be unstable enough to attack him for it, too. Fenris is not afraid, but he doesn't want to deal with the mess.

He shakes his head. He's done all he can, he thinks. ]

But, in any case, if you are comfortable ...

[ He's ready to go. ]

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god finally... thank you for being patient!!

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