It had been one night. Just one night since it all had happened. Just one night since those terrible atrocities had occurred. Since the man who'd inspired him, the man who'd led him, the man who'd betrayed him, had perished. Shot right through the eye. And to his surprise, he'd fallen to the very woman that had replaced him, the very woman that was so close to him. Under the circumstances, Jack believed with all of his heart that Blaze had murdered Silver. What forced her hand, he didn't know, and he'd probably never know. This whole ordeal was so shrouded and controversial, that he was so confused. Confused on... everything.

What made matters even worse than they already were, was the second part of the tragic turn of events. It wasn't long after they were informed of the situation, that Felix had committed suicide. Obviously, it was due to the grim end to his two greatest friends. And thus was the end of the original three cyborgs. Jack was so outraged, so stricken by what had happened. None of them deserved any of what they had gotten. Yet, there wasn't much room for him to argue against it; it was all by those laws of pessimism he always preached.

A clicked sounded from his gloved hand, and he brought the tape recorder level with his mouth. "Silver, Blaze, and Jasper are dead. Argency's devastated." With another click, he paused the recording device, storing his voice into the archives of the machine for the time being.

After a few moments of thought, he mulled over a heavy decision. There was no incentive to stay, no motivation to protect anymore, to him. That was all personal, though. Rationally, with the casualties, they'd need more people than ever to help. Yet, he felt he would be better off away from these people, away from this little war over the inner-workings of this shit-hole of a city. Jack felt he belonged on the larger scale. Not many of the Argents were greatly fond of him, either. He'd probably be doing them a favor by leaving, overall.

Another click. "Argents are preparing for what's to come. I'm thinking of taking up Solomus's offer."

Not even Jack knew what was coming, or how they were preparing. Hell, he didn't even know what they did with Felix's remains. He'd kept himself out of the loop, just to think. Yet, this seemed like normal behavior to everyone. He paused the recording for another moment, and set the tape recorder down. He needed two hands to light a cigarette, before picking the device back up. Leaving the Argency was the most tantalizing option to him, at the moment. Although, he was aware that he'd have to stay for the time being; he couldn't randomly leave. Then came the issue of leaving itself.

Would they let him leave? If he set his mind to it, he'd just leave no matter what, yet he'd rather have it peacefully. Jack used to find himself obligated to these people, indebted with his life. Yet, now he thought otherwise. He'd given damn near everything he had to these people. It was about time he'd go out and earn a lot of it back, one way or another. Make a name for himself, somewhere that wasn't the Agency's database.

Yet, there was nowhere else to turn besides combat. It must have been a family curse, to be locked to a lifestyle like this. With his right hand, he reached into his undershirt, and pulled out the metal tags that had identified him since the day of his induction. Simple, ovular, metal tags. Their use was so versatile, it was used in standard military branches and other organizations in the government. Dog tags. Yet, what set these ones apart were the fact that a trio of tags resided on the chain, rather than a pair of identical ones. One, simply read his name with all the other information indented into the metal. 'Jack Namkeni'.

The next rung a familiar name, someone who'd given something up everything for Jack to carry on; Ethan Walter. It wasn't so long ago since the Cocytus insurgency. It'd all seemingly blown over now, it wasn't even much of a conversational topic amongst the people. The city wasn't even scarred by the massacres. No one cared. Yet, many men and women had died within those few weeks, all giving up everything they had just to save others. Ethan wasn't an exception.

The last tag on the string hit home; every time he read the name permanently branded into the metal, he felt a pang in his chest. 'Kyo Namkeni'. From the files that the others had stolen and showed to him, he'd learned a great deal about the woman. Caught working for the CIA, simply unable to get out; she did what she could to help others who needed and deserved it. Most of all, her own son.

With a sigh, heavy with the emotion of the morose thoughts that ensued of his remembrance of his mother's death, he continued the recording.

"Simply put; it's not my fight anymore," He exhaled a bit of smoke as he took another hit from the cig. "I-I can't help anyone here, anymore." He swallowed hard, trying to push the sorrows back down his throat. "I'm useless to these people."

With another push to pause it, he hung his head. What would Eddie think of him, now? He'd probably never know what the answer to that be; he barely understood that man when he was alive. Yet, there was a strange fondness he had towards him. He was Jack's greatest friend. Was. Would he simply be disappointed in his endeavors? Easily seen as an enabler of death and destruction, rather than a savior or detterent? Or, quite possibly, did Eddie not have such black-and-white morals as he assumed? Would he understand how Jack was feeling, why this decision was so definite, yet so difficult all at the same time?

None of those questions would ever be answered. Jack would never know the word of his long-dead comrade. He had already forgotten his voice. Perhaps he'd know in the afterlife, if there truly was one. Jack didn't believe any of it. He defiantly stowed his doubts for his old friend, dismissing any impact his conscience would have due to past sympathies. With another press of the button, he started again.

"I'm probably goin' unheard, but, Eddie..." He sighed, wearily. "I truly am sorry," At that, another factor had dawned on him. His face scrunched up, and he tried to hold back a small sob. Indefinitely, the sound was audible as something similar to a grunt. "And I'm sorry about you, mom."

The cigarette fell from his lips, and bounced on the concrete floor. He sniveled, and paused the thing again. Instantly, he was ashamed of his attitude, and the small flow of tears that had come with it. He truly hated acknowledgement of his past. People and actions alike. He wanted to only see the future. Yet, the future looked dark. Looming ahead was the unknown, and he had no idea what to do.

The figureheads of the Argency were all gone. They were all taken too fast, so fast that most of the Argents wouldn't be feeling the whole impact for some time. Then, it'd hit everyone like an earthquake that their foundation was removed in one fell swoop. So everyone is going to have to work together to hold this structure up, or else the whole thing will end up toppling down upon everyone in the aftershocks.

It took a minute or so for him to completely fight back all of the sobs that wanted to surface, all of the tears that wanted to leaked, and all he did was sit there in silence for a good bit afterwards. Reflecting. Reflecting on the last year of his life.

Most of the people here were good to him. They all housed them, and he showed them respect in return. To their disdain, he put himself in the line of fire first, always. He furrowed his brow at the thought of this war. Child soldiers, still growing up, experiencing elements from 'normal' life, as well. He'd hoped that they'd all be able to move on from this and live normally outside of the government's greedy claws. They all deserved much better than what they had. His thoughts especially went to the people who'd lost their lives today. Namely, Felix. Or Jasper, as he'd learned on accident awhile back. The man could've possibly had a good life ahead of him. A life of entertaining people, through the arts. He sure as hell showed signs of it. If he hadn't picked up that gun, if he hadn't read those papers that day, if it was scheduled for a different day; maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe Felix would still be in the hub, playing his guitar. Maybe he'd be lounging around, complaining about the day's duties. Maybe he'd be catching a bite down at Aiden's cafe.

But no, it wasn't any of those. Felix was dead. He no longer drew the same breath that Jack did. He no longer was able to express himself, speak, see, feel, or anything. Felix was gone. And the terribly ironic part; it was Felix's own hand that had struck him down in the end.

Silver and Blaze were just the same, and there was no cause, no reason for any of them to die that day. And yet they did. It was a war. Very little good could come out of it. Jack grimaced, and sat straight up once more. This wasn't right, none of this was right. None of them should be dead. None of this was fair at all. The mere thoughts frustrated him immensely, enough to make him strike the nearby wall, with a curse. Another minute or so passed by, and he managed to compose himself once more after taking many, many heavy breaths. Another click.

"... And all I can say for the rest of 'em. Good luck."