John HATED Ryanair. It was cheep, admittedly. It was also uncomfortable, constricted, and downright embarrassing considering John owned a good third of the stock in it. Of course, a lot of this critique came from the fact that John hated aeroplanes in general. They were no-where near as fun as the open freedom of his powersuit. But right now, he wasn't thinking about the flight. He was thinking about Quiver.
"I can't come back, not yet..."
He sighed. Things had gone downhill so fast. Ransack, Quiver... ...Ves... John's hand clenched. Veskit. John didn't know what to believe, right now. He cared for Quiver a lot, but Veskit had fought alongside him more then once. Right now, who could he trust? The message had come from Ransack; could this be another of his insane jokes?
John sighed. When had things gotten so complicated?
"Supposing an emperor was persuaded to wear a new suit of clothes so fine that the clothes weren't there. And suppose a little boy pointed out this fact in a loud, clear voice... "Then you have The Story Of The Emperor Who Had No Clothes. "But if you knew a bit more, it might be The Story of the Boy Who Got A Well-Deserved Thrashing from His Dad for Being Rude to Royalty." -Terry Pratchett