"Are people seriously trying to threaten me with their little toy guns, and make shift torches? You think that GeneCo would fall so easily, and that the millions—no billions of people who benefited since my father started this place are just going to willfully follow you, rebels? Terrorists maybe? Ha, fat chance. One does what one must in a moment of being threatened, and it’s usually fighting back, but I won’t even lift a finger. The Repo! men have a special warrant for you groups tonight. Game. Set. MATCH!"
The things I would do to amber sweet tho, my fucking word.
"Come n’ get me!"
A little glass vial?
I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you’ve got heroin?