[ This evening was definitely not the shitshow that Jack was expecting. He had absolutely left his room only for the hope of hunting down what was left of Rhys. No one here knew the extent of how deeply it ran, but Jack's paranoia was a powerful force. That thing getting away alive had been eating at him to the point that every time he heard so much as an unexpected shift, his eyes would dart to the vent in his room with that same wild mania that had led to that thing revealing itself in he first place.
He climbs up the ladder with some effort, as he has been this entire goddamn week, but it's more difficult because of what's in his hand. His mask is half-melted, covered in gore and acid, but he refuses to leave it be. He'll dispose of it on his own later, but for now, he felt some sort of irrational fear at leaving it. Once he's in his room, he stands, breathing out a loud exhale of effort. Here, alone, he feels more at ease, and there's no posturing needed. He doesn't carry himself with the same, rigid confidence, but the fact that he's tired and wounded shows much more in how he carries himself. His shoulders slump, and his head bows slightly to look at what's left of the mask in his hand.
It was always a symbol, and he knows that. It was all branding, because he knew the face of Hyperion couldn't be a man with the symbol of a Vault burned into his face. There were too many questions that would arise, practically speaking, but much, much more than that, he couldn't let anyone see anything that resembled weakness even in passing. It was what he had started thinking as things had gotten more dire on Elpis, he remembers. You can't let anyone see you so much as bleed, because it reminds them that you're no different. No more important.
But that-- That wasn't true. It couldn't be true, because Jack was going to be the hero that saved the goddamn universe. So he takes a mask to hide the fact that he's ultimately nothing more than a mortal man. The uncanny nature of the mask only helped with that. That was always the plan, and he had thought ever piece of that through from the mismatched tone of the skin to the name he took. It was absolutely Handsome Jack, as if he's daring someone to question that claim.
Yet now, he looks down to his own face, and he sees not the symbol of the Vault, but a target. When he had first seen it, it made him sick, because oh, there's no missing the implication here. He knows that Rhys and Liz weren't the only ones. He is so goddamn glad that Rhys managed to fuck things up so spectacularly that his betrayal would end up a mask of its own, that's for sure. As soon as Hancock was revealed to have been poisoned, he fucking knew Elizabeth was one of them. And if not for Rhys... He wouldn't have been able to go after her. Rhys himself just ended up being a happy accident, but even so. He understands this target, because it's his fault that two of those things are dead. His heart pounds in his ears the longer he looks at the mask, but— ]
Hahahahaha—!!
[ Jack tosses the mask at the wall hard enough for it to make a noise that's nothing short of disgusting. His expression breaks into a wild grin, but this one is unhinged in a way that's far closer to when he killed Rhys. He's feeling cornered. He's feeling desperate. He's afraid. ]
I— Haha-- I am Handsome goddamned JACK, and if-- if you think that this, this is going to, what, scare me? Ohhhh... Oh, you, all of you, you have another fucking thing coming!
[ He's truly not talking to anyone but himself here, but he runs his hand through his hair as he paces, trying to work out that manic energy, since there's truly nowhere for him to put it. Jack just keeps laughing hysterically, as if this were the funniest thing that could have ever happened to him, but it's harsh and strained. ]
Everyone here-- Ha, I could just, fr, friggin' kill them all, then-- [ He's interrupted by laughter again as his eyes fall on the mask, but this time, seeing it seems to calm him down, paradoxically enough. His expression is still nothing short of being so dangerous that it's truly a good thing that no one is here, but that impossibly wide grin still grows. ]
No. No, they can come and get me. If I die, then-- Man, then everyone is friggin' screwed anyways. They have no idea that I'm... [ That certainly sounds ominous, but as Jack trails off, another thought seems to occur to him. He feels the dry blood on his skin all of the sudden, since he looks at his hand as if he's seeing that blood there for the first time, and he laughs again, though it's not quite so wild.
Whatever he was thinking, it apparently remains in his head. Jack heads towards the bathroom, since the blood, it kind of bothers him.
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momijizukamori
week 7 - the night jason skywalker became a jedi
Date: 2016-07-23 11:32 pm (UTC)He climbs up the ladder with some effort, as he has been this entire goddamn week, but it's more difficult because of what's in his hand. His mask is half-melted, covered in gore and acid, but he refuses to leave it be. He'll dispose of it on his own later, but for now, he felt some sort of irrational fear at leaving it. Once he's in his room, he stands, breathing out a loud exhale of effort. Here, alone, he feels more at ease, and there's no posturing needed. He doesn't carry himself with the same, rigid confidence, but the fact that he's tired and wounded shows much more in how he carries himself. His shoulders slump, and his head bows slightly to look at what's left of the mask in his hand.
It was always a symbol, and he knows that. It was all branding, because he knew the face of Hyperion couldn't be a man with the symbol of a Vault burned into his face. There were too many questions that would arise, practically speaking, but much, much more than that, he couldn't let anyone see anything that resembled weakness even in passing. It was what he had started thinking as things had gotten more dire on Elpis, he remembers. You can't let anyone see you so much as bleed, because it reminds them that you're no different. No more important.
But that-- That wasn't true. It couldn't be true, because Jack was going to be the hero that saved the goddamn universe. So he takes a mask to hide the fact that he's ultimately nothing more than a mortal man. The uncanny nature of the mask only helped with that. That was always the plan, and he had thought ever piece of that through from the mismatched tone of the skin to the name he took. It was absolutely Handsome Jack, as if he's daring someone to question that claim.
Yet now, he looks down to his own face, and he sees not the symbol of the Vault, but a target. When he had first seen it, it made him sick, because oh, there's no missing the implication here. He knows that Rhys and Liz weren't the only ones. He is so goddamn glad that Rhys managed to fuck things up so spectacularly that his betrayal would end up a mask of its own, that's for sure. As soon as Hancock was revealed to have been poisoned, he fucking knew Elizabeth was one of them. And if not for Rhys... He wouldn't have been able to go after her. Rhys himself just ended up being a happy accident, but even so. He understands this target, because it's his fault that two of those things are dead. His heart pounds in his ears the longer he looks at the mask, but— ]
Hahahahaha—!!
[ Jack tosses the mask at the wall hard enough for it to make a noise that's nothing short of disgusting. His expression breaks into a wild grin, but this one is unhinged in a way that's far closer to when he killed Rhys. He's feeling cornered. He's feeling desperate. He's afraid. ]
I— Haha-- I am Handsome goddamned JACK, and if-- if you think that this, this is going to, what, scare me? Ohhhh... Oh, you, all of you, you have another fucking thing coming!
[ He's truly not talking to anyone but himself here, but he runs his hand through his hair as he paces, trying to work out that manic energy, since there's truly nowhere for him to put it. Jack just keeps laughing hysterically, as if this were the funniest thing that could have ever happened to him, but it's harsh and strained. ]
Everyone here-- Ha, I could just, fr, friggin' kill them all, then-- [ He's interrupted by laughter again as his eyes fall on the mask, but this time, seeing it seems to calm him down, paradoxically enough. His expression is still nothing short of being so dangerous that it's truly a good thing that no one is here, but that impossibly wide grin still grows. ]
No. No, they can come and get me. If I die, then-- Man, then everyone is friggin' screwed anyways. They have no idea that I'm... [ That certainly sounds ominous, but as Jack trails off, another thought seems to occur to him. He feels the dry blood on his skin all of the sudden, since he looks at his hand as if he's seeing that blood there for the first time, and he laughs again, though it's not quite so wild.
Whatever he was thinking, it apparently remains in his head. Jack heads towards the bathroom, since the blood, it kind of bothers him.
Might as well wash it off, he figures. ]