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The text from Simon arrived after the terrible cave of doom mission, and was fairly typical:



Not promising, but not quite a death threat either. Probably.

When Jerry arrived, he'd find Simon at his desk, his hands a blur as he folded paper crane after paper crane, firmly doing his best to pretend that the large black man sitting in front of him did not exist.

For his own part, Killzone was explaining that he really admired the zen of Simon's paper folding but that he really felt the other man could do with some more fiber in his diet and yoga in his life.

"You see, sometimes you just need to release, ********. But sometimes release is like, nuh-uh, b***h. So you gotta like, grease that wheel a bit so you don't become some stiff b*****d whose zen is harshed due to irregularity, you know what I mean?"

The Sun assistant took in Jerry's appearance with one swift, critical look, and then proceeded to welcome the younger man, "At least you're on time." There was something in his demeanor that indicated tardiness would have led Jerry to corpsiness. "Sit down."

"Jerry..." Killzone began, but then had to stop...

Taking out a folder, Simon slid it across toward Jerry and then summon hid guns. Fortunately he was simply cleaning them, for now. The contents of the folder were telling. Every ******** up, noted mental break, negative mission from a superior hunter were listed in there. And...enough accomplishments to merit a meeting rather than simply killing the Intermediate outright. Simon was relatively unenthused about this, as he felt warning those you were meant to kill was fairly inefficient, but both Allan and Killzone had insisted.

"Up until now you was simply unstable but useful. Currently your instability is outweighing your usefulness, Mr. Collins." Simon began taking the guns apart as he spoke, "Destruction of communal property, performing missions while inebriated resulting in a hospital stay, and striking a new trainee of your own division during a mission."

Icy grey eyes slid over to Jerry, "Tell me, Mr. Collins, would you like to continue living?" There was honest curiosity in this question. Also a certain amount of hope in the assistant's expression and tone. A hope that the younger man would say no so they could all just finish this up in a timely, tidy fashion and go their own-

"JERRY. BRO!" Killzone shouted in anguish, "I KNOW YOU WANT TO LIVE. THE WARM AND GENTLE LIGHT OF POSITIVITY HAS JUST DIMMED IN YOUR JERRY PLACE!" He threw his hands up to the sky. Or possibly just to the ceiling and it's light, as if it would somehow inspire Jerry's light to stop ******** around via good example. "WE JUST GOTTA REPLACE THAT ******** MAN!"

Simon began reassembling his guns with alarming speed.

The Sun assistant gave him a flat, unimpressed look, "If at least is the sum of your worth, then I'll begin your transfer to the Mist division."

Killzone reached down into his leotard and pulled out a hankie to blow his nose.

Simon simple stared at the Intermediate for several long, torturous moments. Then, with a sigh, he reluctantly desummoned his weapons. "Quite honestly, the less you do, the better. I'd really prefer just killing you, but as others have intervened on your behalf, you'll simply be on a type of probation. Mr. Zone will be acting as your personal counselor in a much more immediate and personal manner."

Sniffling a bit, the large black man suddenly beamed over at the trainee, "We're gonna be roomies, Jerry! I've got your back so you don't even have to worry anymore ********! I'm gonna be all up in your Jerry Place! It'll be like a goddamn sleepover that never ends!"

The Sun assistant glanced at his watch and intoned flatly, "They should be finished installing the bunkbeds by the time you leave this office and return to your room."

Folding his hands, Simon actually smiled at the Intermediate, "Until you're either deemed a functional member of the division or you die, which would resolve the issue quite nicely."

Killzone gave him a big thumbs-up, "Don't worry, Jerry! I'm not gonna leave you alone! There's no expiration date on mental ******** health, bro!"

Simon adjusted his glasses, "I beg to differ, Mr. Zone. However I have a training session with Allan in 3 minutes." He stared across his desk expectantly for a moment. "Both of you leave. Now."

Killzone strutted out of the office and slapped Jerry on the shoulder, "Now don't you worry, Jerry! Not one damn bit! We're gonna straighten you out hardcore and s**t. Soon enough you're gonna be living the Jerry Life in your Jerry Place ******** seven, YEAH! Now first thing we're gonna do it get you onto better hours, because you look like you could ******** drop dead at any moment, and I know that while Si-guy there would really appreciate that, I'd rather you keep on keeping on down the path of greater well-being." Clapping his hand together eagerly, Killzone kept going as they walked, a train of enthusiasm and words intent on smashing Jerry down through sheer intensity. "So first, first we're gonna have light's out by ten, bro. And I know you still got your issues, but I'm gonna be sleeping with you bro, so don't even worry. Bunk beds should be all set up, I get top by the way, but if you get really scared or some s**t, I will be the big spoon that keeps all the negativity away from you as you rest and dream your Jerry Dreams. Now, we'll be getting up at 5am, and then we'll do some swimming in the sea. I know you've probably seen or heard or the monsters and s**t that are out there, but that's just like having bath toys you know? Nothing wakes a brother up in the morning like punching a goddamn shark. Now for breakfast..."

The man went on, and on, and on...

The bigger man gave him another slap on the shoulder, "Jerry, you don't have to expect me, you're gonna get me regardless of wether you have tea and ******** cake out, or hidden your dirty ******** underwear. Now don't you ******** worry about any weird porno mags or anything like that, as I'm a pretty open minded ********. Now get on in there so we can get started on the rest of your life."