“So whiny.  I just cut up his face.  So?  Tell me a story?”

Silence.

“Okay.”

A sound of a match being struck.

“We… were… briefed… on… Jack…  we… don’t… know… how… he… ends… the… world… we’re… suppose… to… implemen… quarant… ine…”

I stopped in my tracks.

“He… talks… to… someone… and… catalyz… es… someth… ing…”

The PRT officer had been asked to weigh an eternity of torment against the lives of billions, and she’d chosen the selfish option.

“Every… major… group… helping… teams… defeat… Jack…  Cauldron… Thanda… PRT… Protector… ate… Wards… Brockton B… ay villains… Moord Nag… Irregulars… Faultline… Triumvirate…”

We’d just lost our last major advantage in determining how this could play out.  Jack was getting everything.  He was a wiki-walk away from getting details on everyone who was arrayed against his new Slaughterhouse Nine.

Wildbow, Worm, 26.6