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Yah... he probably wouldn't want to see it either.
"So... I'm guessing you're permanently blind in that eye n-"
His words got cut off as she latched onto him, again, and he gave her an exasperated look.
(On the inside though, he was a little like this).
"I am so happy for you."
(Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy)

Her question had him taken aback, and he arched an eyebrow.
"What do you WANT me to do?"

It took a moment longer for Ian to let go entirely, his hand falling away, sticky with slime and dripping. He wiped it carelessly on his shirt (it was already messy anyway), and tried to remember that this was how Shiloh was - he wasn't the type to get too serious about things if he didn't have to, which meant that Ian needed to simply let it go.

Ian gave a small snort, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Fine, you make me cookies, and I'll take you clubbing. We'll have a party when I get back."

He glanced up at Shiloh, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the adrenaline of everything, and took a long, deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"Not really," he admitted. "But there's not much of a choice now, is there?"

He closed his eyes.

"Ready, aim, fire, Captain."

He groaned. For once he actually swore. "<******** heaved, holding back an unmanly sob before he was launched into the air a third time. At least this time he knew exactly where to jab his dagger into and he did a pretty good job. In his opinion, anyways.

And then cue the wobbly but still sorta ninja-like landing. He took a few dignified steps forward before crumbling to the ground. Never again.

9 x 13 = 117

He was still smiling when he heard the russian whisper, but it didn't register as anything of importance. And then the world underneath him shoved him forward, launching him high into the air. He was frozen with shock. Frozen, his arms locked tight around the harness that he was only holding against his chest, and flying towards the back of a beast without any daggers to slam into it and break his fall.

No, all he had to break his fall was his bones.

"JazzyjazzyjazzyhelpjazzyJAZZY-" The weapon surged forward into his clenched hands, which still held the harness like a lifeline (which is exactly what it was) clutched against him. He started to fall, and his stomach plummetted at the freefall. The Insanity monster loomed underneath him, rocketting up towards his feet. He gripped Jazzy's handle, clutched her close, and hoped to God he wasn't about to break his legs. He'd been in a wheelchair enough for one year.

The tip of the weapon dug into the monster, causing no damage but keeping his body from cracking against it. One hand reached out to take hold of a scale on the body, and he desummoned Jezebel and climbed on board.

He was riding an Insanity monster. Where the ******** was his camera.

It only took a few seconds to pull the harness on, which was all he had - the cord tugged and pulled him back, throwing him off of the monster and dropping him to the ground with almost as much force as the catapault itself. As soon as he could move again, he was up on his feet, running back down the beach instead of being reeled in like the rest.

"OKAY." He bellowed, red as a beet with anger. "WHO DID IT. WHO'S THE WISEGUY."

"No, no, no absolutely not!" A crazy (future homeless) guy in a pilot's cap and busy hair wandered down to the scene. "You're holding my creations wrong. I didn't even have time to perfect them and you're making them like, even more imperfect. They should be lightsabers. No, wait, lightsaber cannon beams. No, wait, lightsaber beam cannon jaegers."

He was probably having compensation issues thanks to Life's little project going on along the side.

"I totally had a Jaeger idea planned," note, Mark was an INTP, all talk and very little execution, according to his horoscope Myers-Briggs personality survey, "Yeah, it was like totally in the works. It was gonna be way more badass than a stupid cannon plasma beam thing."

He was probably just butthurt that Dwight had worked on it without telling him of the secrets.

"And someone dropped one of my babies!" He picked up one of the infusers, and then a second one, and then began to coddle and whisper to them. It was sort of creepy.

Dakota patted his sobbing brother on the head, his ears perking as he heard yet another voice.

One that beckoned to be launched.

It was a voice he knew well.....

His eyes slid over to Mark, who was busy whispering to objects and being one of those like crazy hobo's on the street except it was on the island and in the middle of an attack. Plus wasn't mark like Death? Why wasn't he being launched?

But Mark was quick, and if Dakota was going to get the man in a gear suit to launch, he'd need a partner.

"Leon, Bro." He came up to the life hunter and pointed to Mark. "You wanna help me get that one?"

Well the good news was, one of the machines now had a convenient vacancy.


Time was still of the essence, in regards to the behemoth advancing on the walls. He reached out for the nearest hunter in reach with the right kind of coat, which turned out to be Milo. He could tell just by the gross, slimy feeling of the guy's clothes.

"Hey!" he called out genially, before throwing a harness around the unfortunate sun hunter and cinching it in a few quick movements. He gestured around in a few quick motions as he spoke. "Get in, get monster, get back. You get idea."

Meanwhile, he reset the calibrations on the machine for a new launch.