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It's all hilarious, watching you all scurry about to divest yourselves of your secrets and sins. I mean, really. It's better than comedy. 'Oh, I'm a werewolf'. 'Oh, I come from another ship that eats people and makes zombies!' 'Oh, my toenails contain the lost secrets of Atlantis!' or-- whatever ingenious [not said 'in-jenny-yus no matter how much you want it to be, Megamind] things you've come up with. This place sees more confessionals than the Prison Chapel, I swear. And we had genuine things to confess, let me tell you. [He laughs, a little nostalgic for prison. Who knew you could be nostalgic for prison.]
Alas, along with Skulduggery, I labor under the burden of obviously not being human and being too fantastic for words. Since I've never been the type to hide my light under the proverbial bushel, well, you already know that. Yes, yes, you're all going to jump to snap at the heels of the failed mutiny, or maybe you want to have a good laugh at my expense due to Miss Ritchi spilling all my secrets, but let's be honest: the mistakes before your great success are merely stepping stones leading you there!
So, while you go on about the useless past, I'm going to remind you that I know more about the ship then any of you lot and I am no longer parked in the brig. Isn't that something? I mean, all you people crowing for my blood earlier? Seriously, do you kill the prize sheep that gives you the best wool? No, fools! You utilize it.
Not that any of you're utilizing the brains in your own skulls, let alone my fantastic cranium. Well. Not that most of you are. Most of you have more in common with the sheep than the man that holds the shears! Some of you-- well, thankfully, you're not all soft-headed imbeciles.
[Pausing in his diatribe about he considers briefly, only the sound of his breath, so faint on the line; is he listening to something? Thinking? Steeling himself, perhaps, for his next words-- or simply admitting that not everybody on the ship is a dribbling idiot.]
Since I've no desire to be lynched I want to offer something, in good faith: anyone who wants to learn what I've learned, can. I will teach you what I know about the systems. I will show you how I did what I did. I will teach you my skills if you're capable of learning them. Then, maybe together we can figure out why the jump systems-- that shouldn't be working, by the way, at all -- are doing what they're doing. And that might be our ticket home, which remains my priority. If you can give something to me for my time? Fantastic. If you can't-- well, that's the sacrifices we must make in the spirit of [sigh - it's so hard to say these-- these noble words, because oh God it's borderline heroic and it's certainly goody two-shoes] cooperation, and all that.
So-- your move, passengers good ship Tranqulity. I'll be at the Fight Club this week to watch you make fools of yourselves, so you may feel to address any interest in learning what I found out about the ship from there.
Alas, along with Skulduggery, I labor under the burden of obviously not being human and being too fantastic for words. Since I've never been the type to hide my light under the proverbial bushel, well, you already know that. Yes, yes, you're all going to jump to snap at the heels of the failed mutiny, or maybe you want to have a good laugh at my expense due to Miss Ritchi spilling all my secrets, but let's be honest: the mistakes before your great success are merely stepping stones leading you there!
So, while you go on about the useless past, I'm going to remind you that I know more about the ship then any of you lot and I am no longer parked in the brig. Isn't that something? I mean, all you people crowing for my blood earlier? Seriously, do you kill the prize sheep that gives you the best wool? No, fools! You utilize it.
Not that any of you're utilizing the brains in your own skulls, let alone my fantastic cranium. Well. Not that most of you are. Most of you have more in common with the sheep than the man that holds the shears! Some of you-- well, thankfully, you're not all soft-headed imbeciles.
[Pausing in his diatribe about he considers briefly, only the sound of his breath, so faint on the line; is he listening to something? Thinking? Steeling himself, perhaps, for his next words-- or simply admitting that not everybody on the ship is a dribbling idiot.]
Since I've no desire to be lynched I want to offer something, in good faith: anyone who wants to learn what I've learned, can. I will teach you what I know about the systems. I will show you how I did what I did. I will teach you my skills if you're capable of learning them. Then, maybe together we can figure out why the jump systems-- that shouldn't be working, by the way, at all -- are doing what they're doing. And that might be our ticket home, which remains my priority. If you can give something to me for my time? Fantastic. If you can't-- well, that's the sacrifices we must make in the spirit of [sigh - it's so hard to say these-- these noble words, because oh God it's borderline heroic and it's certainly goody two-shoes] cooperation, and all that.
So-- your move, passengers good ship Tranqulity. I'll be at the Fight Club this week to watch you make fools of yourselves, so you may feel to address any interest in learning what I found out about the ship from there.
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