kickitover | (no subject)

Entry tags:

!bass,
otana

(no subject)

Who: Jak and Bass
What: One year after the defeat of the Dark Makers, Jak is a brick with a gun doing what a brick with a gun does: clean-up. He comes across an unfinished project in an old Krimzon Guard facility and his work ends up following him home.
Universe/CR: Jak-Universe AU

Clean-up, they'd called it. Really, it was more to give Jak something to do, although it was necessary to maintain the peace they'd so carefully constructed. Old enemy storehouses needed to be examined, categorized and, in most cases, blown up. Jak was the most qualified warrior to deal with any potential resistance so for the more remote posts to where it would be difficult to transport troops, Jak was dispatched. It wasn't entirely to get him out of their political hair-

Well, it was kind of for that too. But Jak was never meant to sit behind a desk. Ashelin knew it, Torn knew it, Sig knew it. Even Daxter knew it, to a degree, which is why he stayed behind as Jak went out, and hadn't that been a tough decision. Jak had taken it in as much stride as could be assumed, being separated from someone with whom he'd spent almost every making moment, and Daxter was about as happy about it but there were responsibilities to which he had to attend now, least of all the management of the Hip Hog. Things with Tess were getting serious, and for some reason Dax was actually sort of good at helping write up diplomatic legislature, in some hilarious twist of fate. So that meant a lot of staying put, something that Jak was unarguably bad at doing.

Just a few runs, Samos had asked. To tie up loose ends. If left alone, loose ends always tie themselves, and never in a way you want them to. ...he could've gone longer with that string metaphor (included something about the knots and snares of life maybe) but Jak had already since lost interest and was ready to leave.

Krimzon Guard Depot Alpha-581 was on the outskirts of the Wasteland, on one of the southern islands and only barely accessible by land. The outer walls of the depot were rusted by water and bleached pale pink by the sun, salt crusting along the seams of the plates from where the waves slapped against the foundation. Inside wasn't much better; the depot was still, sand piled up in corners and the ocean breeze whistling through holes in the roofing, manufacturing equipment in varying states of disrepair, only a handful of Deathbots wandering about the facility in confusion. Another depot set for decommission.

Only...the power grid showed one room at the center of the compound with power consumption. Blowing the building sky high would undoubtedly take that room with it, except that the Krimzon Guard were infamous for using Dark Eco in the construction of their later models thanks to Errol. An explosion with Dark Eco involved could drastically affect the surrounding ecosystem, even all the way up to Spargus. That room would have to be investigated first.

In the center of a room, near a flashing panel indication a critical power failure, is a capsule. Inside that capsule is the body of what can only be a strange-looking young boy...either asleep or dead. The panel reads CATASTROPHIC POWER FAILURE: ACTIVATE UNIT? YES/NO in blaring, blinking red. A remnant of the KG to be sure, but...definitely nothing that they'd made before. Especially with the room stinking like it'd had been painted with Dark Eco.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

When the Dark Makers fell it almost felt too good to be true. Lives were lost, both Haven and Spargus were largely in ruins and Metal Heads still roamed free outside of their shattered nest. Damus was gone, people were frightened and just as soon as they actually met the fabled precursors, they left again.

No one really knew whether to celebrate or just burn everything to the damn ground and salt the ashes.

Thankfully, Ashelin and Torn were really, really good at leading the people and both Haven and Spargus were being rebuilt at a startling rate, even faster than after Praxis' defeat.

Unfortunately building things wasn't really Jak's strong suit, and neither was diplomacy. Or paperwork. Or strategizing. Or... pretty much anything required in the recovery process. Jak grew restless; he wanted to be out shooting bad guys and testing new vehicles in the Wastelands, causing mayhem and just generally getting into trouble.

Sure, picking his way through the ruins of Krimzon factories and squashing a few Metal Heads here and there was fun. It kept him busy, got his adrenaline pumping and his heart racing in that way he loved.

But as he cracked the butt of his morph gun against the back of a Krimzon patrol bot and blasted what passed for a head into a tangled mess of wires and fried circuitry, it just didn't feel as satisfying as usual. His left shoulder still felt off balance, too light without Daxter perched up there. He missed the color commentary of his movements, the sassy remarks after each kill, the way his weight shifted with each punch and the sound of his claws scratching against the old metal shoulder plate.

Logically, he understood. But that didn't mean he liked leaving Daxter behind, and he liked to think he'd made that abundantly clear to Samos. Jak wasn't doing this for Haven, or even for Spargus. Hell, he wasn't sure who he was doing it for anymore. He was just a soldier going through the motions, following orders and marking off a checklist.

Kicking the inert corpse aside, Jak squeezed through the partially open door into the central chamber. The power had failed long ago and now barely anything was functional, let alone dangerous. Stepping carefully around missing floor tiles and nudging aside debris, Jak shouldered his morph gun and squinted at the control panel.

"Power failure? No shit..."

Ordinarily this was where he'd blow a bunch of crap up and call it a day, but something about this room made his skin itch. It was the same feeling he got inside the Metal Head nest, or when he scaled the Terraformer, that indescribable excitement that tickled at the back of his skull and made his blood sing. That need for Dark Eco.

It wasn't a good feeling. Time to shut this operation down and get the hell out of here. All he had to do was attach the magnet Vin programmed to the side of the machine and let it do its magic. Hell if he knew how it worked, all he knew was it did--

--wait. Is that a child? No. No no no, Errol was the only cyborg the Dark Makers used, it had to be a mistake. Jak felt his stomach twist, memories of hollow needles and whirring machines echoing in his mind as he stepped closer to the capsule to get a better look. Please be wrong, please be wrong, please be--

Something behind him rumbled, a steel girder groaning as it finally collapsed under its burden bringing with it a pile of rubble. Startled, Jak whirled around, morph gun loaded.

His elbow bumped the panel.

COMMAND ACCEPTED: INITIATING UNIT ACTIVATION

Coming online for the first time takes forever. Basic processes obviously take priority and consciousness follows, but the hardware still needs to boot up, calibrate and his power core hums as it heats up. It takes FOR-EV-ER. Like, ten entire seconds. Shit, he could've written his fucking memoirs and marketed the series by the time he finally starts receiving optical input and sensor data. The capsule depressurizes with a hiss and KG-001 SF grabs the lip of the container to haul himself out.

There's a man with a gun over there. And...nobody else so this guy must be his master. KG-001 logs the acknowledgement almost boredly before he realizes that the guy's gun is pointed in a specific direction. He leaps the rest of the way out and levels a hand in the same direction, palm splitting and fingers folding back against his wrist to reveal a cannon that glows a neon purple-pink and hums with energy. "What's up what're we shooting?!"

...there's no threat. Nothing on infrared, nothing on motion. "The fuck? There's nobody there." KG-001 holds up his arm and his fingers click back into place. He turns faintly glowing KG-red eyes (or maybe they're dark-eco pink?) onto Jak, irate. "Helllooo? There's nothing there, moron." God. Just his luck; his master is probably an idiot.

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT

By the time Jak realizes he's aiming at a piece of falling rubble, it's too late to do anything to shut down the capsule. To be fair, he wouldn't know what to do except maybe try punching it until it stopped. That works sometimes.

His first instinct is to shoot, but this is a kid. A fucking kid.

A cyborg kid.

His trigger finger itches, but Jak lowers the morph gun. Oh, and closes his gaping mouth.

"Who are you?" See? Asking questions first. He's learning SEE TORN HE CAN LEARN.

The real question is if he can retain.

KG-001 glances around, just in case he's talking to someone else because he can't be asking him. No. He's not that stupid.

...shit he is, isn't he. "Uh, are you serious? You're the one who activated me." Another stare.

KG-001 huffs out a breath with the help of his intake fans and puts his hands on his hips, glaring up at his new master. "Serial number KG-001, Special Forces prototype. You want my spec sheet? Because I don't fucking have it, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE IT. Which you clearly don't, so who the hell're you?"

Jak has absolutely no freakin' clue what to do here.

This is usually where Daxter would spring off his shoulder and set up a barrage of sassy quips that gave him time to figure out where the hell he should be pointing his gun or whether or not he needed to be keeping his mouth shut. Unfortunately, he doesn't have that luxury right now.

That's not good.

"You're KG."

...wow, that was dumb even for Jak. He grunts in frustration. "I mean... how long have you been in there? Are you a cyborg? You work for Errol? The Dark Makers?"

If he says yes, Jak'll have to kill him.

Don't say yes.

"Uh, I probably was supposed to." It's not a yes. KG-001 crosses his arms and leans his weight back. Great. He knows who Errol and the KG and the Dark Makers are, of course; they're supposed to be his creators. He was probably put together to serve Errol, but this joker obviously isn't him and this facility is obviously FUBAR. Something must've happened.

Most likely...this guy is the opposition. Or- well, now he's the opposition, because he's already hard-written this guy's designation into his core rule set and there's really no way to root that out. "But now I work for you. I had a command on initial boot up to write in the first person I saw as my master. Blame Errol for being suspicious and possessive, I guess."

"Sounds like him."

Well, he doesn't look like a threat, at least not right now. He sounds like an asshole but that's fine, Jak's deals with total dicks every day, he's used to that. Plus he's just a kid. Or looks like a kid. Whatever.

Either way, it's pretty clear Jak can't just shoot him in the face and call this mission a success. Besides maybe it'll be useful to have Dark Maker tech on their side. He might have to fight Samos on it, deal with some preachy Precursor scripture crap from Seem but hell, they said the same shit about Jak when he first showed up and he saved their asses so many times he lost count.

Or maybe he just sucks at counting.

"I guess you're coming back with me then." Jak holsters his gun, then jerks his thumb back towards the entrance. "There's a Hellcat outside, it's only a couple hours ride."

Take the kid back to Haven, let Torn and everyone else figure out the details.

Edited 2015-09-01 10:29 (UTC)

"What do I look like, a fucking crocadog? You can't just put me in a car and expect me to be happy about it!" KG-001 jabs a finger at the device on the side of his capsule. "And what about this? Looks like an EMP-emitter to me. You were gonna toast me!"

Oh for...

"Happy or not, either you're coming with me or you're still here when we blitz the place. Your call."

Also Jak has no idea what an EMP emoter or whatever the fuck is.

"Holy shit. You are so dumb." KG-001 stalks over to the EMP emitter and pries it off the side of the capsule, crushing it in his fist. "This isn't a real blitz. This is a copout. Do you want this place to go up in flames or do you just want some boring old pulse that might take care of everything here?" Not entirely true; the emitter would've fried all delicate circuitry in the building and rendered everything but the raw materials useless, but it might've also caught up to them and killed him. Unacceptable.

But there's a loophole! Bossman wants the place leveled? There's a more fun way to do that.

KG-001 grins at him, teeth sharp and pointed and his eyes flare a bright neon pink, reminiscent of the KG red glow. "Give me two minutes, and then we haul ass and I'll show you some real fireworks." There's another purpose to this. Make himself valuable, make himself useful and this guy won't have his ass decommissioned for being KG. He can defend himself against everybody else, but -and hopefully this loser doesn't know that yet- if he's ordered to let himself die, he'll have to allow it. Damn programming constraints.

Jak isn't mechanical and generally things that are try to kill him in new, exciting and excruciating ways, so no it generally doesn't occur to him to try and protect any of the circuitry or components.

The only acknowledgment to the insult is rolling his eyes and letting out a put-upon sigh. Whatever dude, he's heard worse.

But then KG-001's eyes start fucking glowing, and Jak's hand immediately goes for his gun. It's more instinct than anything, he's got a pretty healthy sense of suspicion when it comes to cyborgs. What's saved KG-001 from becoming intimately acquainted with a refreshing blast of Peace Maker ammo is the fact that in spite of everything, he still looks like a child. It's Jak's biggest weakness; kids get him every time.

Well, that one time. And it was technically him. But still.

Despite Vin explaining many times that combining and programming creatures like Errol and the Metal Heads with technology and mechanics is so complex he's still baffled the Dark Makers even managed it, Jak doesn't really understand any of this, even on a basic level. He really is just sent in to blow shit sky high and try not to get killed in the process.

"Don't even think of double-crossing me," he warns. It's probably not an empty threat. Maybe. "Two minutes and I'm gone, with or without you."

Aww look, it's making threats. Well- okay, he smells like dark eco and he carries a fuckton of gun mods so he's probably got a good reason to think he can carry out those threats, but KG-001 isn't worried. He was put together to be the best, so that's what he is.

But he's on the clock. So KG-001 turns and ignites the small rockets in his boots, charging down the hallway and pulling up the schematics of the facility to find- there, the power room. It might be offline, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still have tanks and tanks of eco in here. Looks like some of the cables were punctured by gunfire; that explains the power failure to the facility. At least he doesn't have to snap any of the cables himself, that would've been annoying.

KG-001 grabs one of the cables and rips it down from its brackets, leading it over to one of the yellow eco tanks. He kicks a hole into the red eco tanks just for good measure, shoves some of them off their supports to get the ground nice and coated and high tails it in search of the main breaker- ah. All it takes is a liberal misuse of the fuses and setting the breaker to flip on a timer annnnd-

KG-001 rockets outside, zeroes in on the Hellcat and jumps in, smacking an open hand on the side. "Fly, fucking go already-" because the facility sparks white on the inside before it shakes with a deafening blast, a series of concussive explosions following as the other eco tanks are ignited; the ball of fire and power swallows up half of the cliff with it, shockwave blowing back sand and rock and sloughing the land into the ocean with the echoing roar of its departure. "Hah hahaaaaaa! Did you see that?!" KG-001 stands up, wind tearing at his hair and turns around to thrust his fists into the air, wild enthusiasm twisting his expression into vicious delight. "Fucking burn, motherfucker!"

It's not that Jak doesn't trust KG-001, it's just--

--okay he doesn't trust him. So he bolts back to the Hellcat and starts up the engine, watching the countdown on the dash. Two minutes to the dot and he's hightailing out of here, alone if he has to. The rumble from the explosions rocks the vehicle once or twice, and right about the time sparks start dancing around the entrance is when KG-001 leaps into the Hellcat with enough force to tilt it almost on its side.

Jak's got his foot on the gas before the bot's even done speaking, and he has to admit he resists the urge to whoop as they ride the first shockwave, then the second and third out past the small series of islands. Grinning wildly, he glances aside at KG-001, then back over his shoulder at the burning ruins. "Nice work, you're pretty useful. Torn's gonna love having you on our side."

Torn, unfortunately, does not love it. When they get back to New Haven, Jak is immediately dragged into a separate room for a "conversation" about his decision making skills, while KG-001's kept at gunpoint by a bunch of very nervous looking Freedom League soldiers. It's a dressing down that probably worked on most of Torn's old KG buddies, but Jak's too belligerent to let it get to him. There's a lot of "what were you thinking" and "didn't you learn anything from what happened to Errol" and "we should decommission it right now" and then Jak loses patience and pulls the Mar card.

It works every goddamn time.

Torn stops dead and gets this uncomfortable look on his face, like he's been caught tearing the savior a new one. Which to be fair, he kinda has. And then Jak insists he'll take responsibility for him, like he's some kind of crocapup he found in the streets. A little more "negotiating" later and he's finally told to just get out of there and make sure KG-001 keeps a low profile. And that this doesn't leak to the civvies.

Sighing, he shrugs as the door slides closed behind him and something heavy hits it shortly after. He's guessing a chair. "Guess you're sticking with me."

Edited 2015-09-05 06:52 (UTC)

That Nice work burns bright like the explosion through his feedback centers, the recognition of his strength making him puff himself up with pride and return the look with his own wickedly happy expression. You're fucking right that's nice work, Jak.

KG-001 spends the rest of the trip back to Haven staring around at the world that blurs beneath them; the transition between sand and the parched earth surrounding the city, pools of pollution filling the cracks as they approach, sick swamp water stinking up the air. The sky clouds over the perpetual gray of smog clouds that hang fat over the city and KG-001 nearly falls out of the Hellcat, leaning over the edge to peer down at the skeletal remains of the city and the miserable people milling below. There are signs of reconstruction here and there; new cement in roads, some old buildings recently painted but the city is poor, still poor and parts of it are still ravaged by the dregs of war. Metalheads and his fellow KG bots still stalk the borders.

KG-001 gets all of a second's worth of a look at Torn before he's shoved into a room with a bunch of jumpy armed guards. He resists just long enough to get the message across that he's cooperating for now, but has to run the idea of breaking these guys' necks through his mind a few times before begrudgingly coming to the conclusion that his master probably wouldn't like that. Which fucking sucks, because he'd love to kill something that's been alive. Blowing up the facility had been fun but something tells KG-001 that snuffing out the flame of something's life will be a lot more satisfying.

After a few minutes of staring down the jittery guards and edging toward them ever so slightly, the door bangs open and a woman with red dreadlocks saunters in, kicks a chair around and straddles the back to stare right back at him. She has a pistol on her thigh but she doesn't reach for it and KG-001 abandons his previous prey in favor of her, because she looks way more fun.

He doesn't get very far before Jak comes back, looking like he'd had his favorite toy taken away. KG-001 logs that expression and associated behavior for future references in the back of his mind, standing up from where he'd crouched over in the corner and cracking his knuckles. "No shit, genius," KG-001 calls, the sound of his knuckles like door deadbolts sliding home in the bad side of town. "That was the plan already. I'm not getting passed around like fucking ordinance, no thank you. Not if this is the usual stock you assholes employ," and he jerks his chin at the soldiers to emphasize his point.

The soldiers startle when KG-001 even glances in their direction which makes Ashelin roll her eyes and Jak smirk in amusement. Most of these guys are the lucky fuckers he didn't cap back when Praxis was in charge, there's no love lost there.

Nodding his head to Ashelin -- and getting a nod in response -- Jak leads KG-001 out of HQ. Thankfully they're in the nice part of town, the area full of zoomers and people in clean clothes with enough food to eat. It's expanded in the last year, but not as much as Jak would have liked.

"So what am I supposed to call you?" He looks over the line of zoomers parked outside. None are his, but that doesn't really matter. Zoomers are basically never locked down, he just takes whichever one he wants at that particular moment.

"My serial designation is KG-001," he says in a tone of voice that plainly portrays how stupid he thinks Jak is for asking that question. He waits for Jak to pick a zoomer and follows his lead, grabbing one of his own and circling it with no small amount of glee. Stealing vehicles? Fuck yeah. "If you're asking about a name, then I obviously don't have one."

Jak sounds distracted when he finally answers, like he's not really listening. "People around here don't really like the Krimzon Guard. We need a better name for you."

There, this one's pretty shiny and new. Not for long! Jak hops onto the single rider and flicks the ignition on, a grin taking over his face as it purrs to life. No one bothers taking the key with them anymore, otherwise someone would just cut the wires. At least this way there's a chance it'll be unscathed if it's still there when they get back.

Jak pauses for a moment, then turns his head back towards KG-001. "How about Kaz?" Before he gets an answer he tugs his goggles down and changes flight zones, zipping into traffic.

He can keep up, right?

Edited 2015-09-08 07:56 (UTC)

Well he's going to have to learn if only to object to that stupid fucking name.

They zip through palace grounds and the surrounding areas and KG-001 tells him how stupid that name is, but he's also keeping a close eye on the city layout. Fucking hard to navigate, especially with the limited hovering capabilities of these smaller vehicles. Maybe he'll see if he can dig around in some networks, try to find city blueprints to download because photographic memory or not, learning this layout is going to be a bitch if he has to wander every square foot of this city.

They pass through the more destitute areas and KG-001 notes the change. "So why's this city so fucked up?" he shouts conversationally over the roar of the wind and whining engines. These things are fast but they sound dinky as shit.

Yeah it was kinda tough for Jak at first too -- especially since he was usually being tailed by at least four KG bikes and a Hellcat with sirens screeching all around him -- but you learn quick in Haven. It's pretty much sink or swim, and either way you're probably getting Hep C from the water.

Jak grits his teeth, then glances over. "The things that made you fucked it up a long time ago. Then we fucked it up some more. Now we're doing damage control and trying to fix it."

They pass through the ruined industrial sector and traffic begins to disperse. Huge potholes mar the landscape, chunks missing from buildings and scorch marks on the ground show the battles that were waged there just a few months ago when they were running the last of the KG bots out of town. Someone left a bunch of flowers and a bottle of liquor in a corner in memory of a loved one; the flowers are wilted and dying, the bottle empty on its side.

It's depressing, but Jak's come to accept it as home. The stench of the harbor gets stronger, along with the delicate odor of Brutter's fish processing plant and the heavy aroma of fermenting hops. A tanker's horn blares as it slowly pulls up to the docks guided by a number of FL soldiers, ready to unload its cargo. At least the trade routes between Spargus and Kras are holding up for now.

Dropping to the pedestrian flight level, Jak slows and barely lets his zoomer come to a stop before he disembarks outside a showy bar with a giant glowing ottsel mascot above the sign.

"There's a couple apartments above the bar, you'll get used to the smell."

"Oh, do you have to get used to stuff? Sucks to be you!" KG-001 grins and elbows Jak in the side as he pushes in through the door first. "I can just turn off my sense of smell."

The inside of the building is an embarrassment. KG-001 is literally hours old and he knows this place is gaudy and ugly as shit. There's flashing lights everywhere, those neon signs of dancing naked lady silhouettes, nasty pool tables and scraped up counters everywhere. This is probably meant to be kitchy but instead it just looks stupid, in his humble opinion. The damn thing even actually HAS rats, a huge orange one right up on the counter. "Ugh," KG-001 says pretty loudly. "You live in this dump?"

"Jak!" The rat hops down from the bar and jumps up onto the holo-table in the center of the room. "What the hell is this?! No kids! Unless he's for food."

KG-001 snorts. "You're food."

Ow, you dick. He doesn't have armor there. Like getting elbowed by a steel girder.

Scowling and rubbing his side, Jak follows him in. The bar hasn't changed much since Dax took it over, though it does smell remarkably less foul. That might also be because Tess actually cleans for real now instead of just pretending for Krew.

"It's a long story." That's for both of you assholes.

Jak sits down on an ammo crate with a tired grunt. God damn it's been a long day. "You live here too now," he points out to KG-001, then shrugs at Daxter and speaks quietly. "He's another KG experiment."

Yeah, the adrenaline's wearing off and the enormity of what was going on in that factory's starting to sink in. They were experimenting on a kid even younger than he was. Errol was fucking crazy when he was human and Jak knew he went even further off the deep end when the Dark Makers resurrected him, but making robots is one thing. Using kids for it?

Fuck. Jak doesn't even really know if KG-001's a cyborg or completely mechanical but honestly he's not sure he wants to know. Either way it's creepy as shit and completely goddamn wrong.

Unfastening his boots, he kicks them aside and starts unhitching his armor. "He's staying with us for a while."

Daxter's about to throw a monster bitchfit because he doesn't care how long the story is, he doesn't even care what the story is because this little shithead is NOT staying in his palace, not a single night, he can get his lavender ass back out onto the street and-

He's another KG experiment.

Shit.

And Dax visibly deflates too, because he knows when he's beaten. Jak is a prick because he's not doing it on purpose either, so Daxter glares at the punk as he saunters over to a booth and throws himself into it, feet up on the table like Erol always did and looking like he owns the place. WHICH HE DOES NOT. THIS PLACE IS DAXTER'S, NOW AND FOREVER.

"Y'know, buddy? You're an asshole," Dax says conversationally as he hops up onto a barrel next to Jak. "He can stay. He's on a leash!" Dax cranes his neck to screech at KG-001 from across the bar. "A REALLY SHORT LEASH!" The shithead just flicks him off and Daxter grumbles, hopping down and scurrying over to the bar. He drags back over a bottle of the purple stuff, thumping it onto the table in front of Jak and plucking out the cork with his claws. This is a story better told wasted.

Jak startles a little when the bottle thunks down in front of him. This is why Daxter's good for him; he'd have way too much of a tendency to get stuck in his own head otherwise. At least listening to him make crappy jokes, breaking up fights with him and Torn and dealing with him backseat fighting while they're out on missions is a good distraction.

"He'll be okay, he'll... we'll figure something out." Of course, this could be a huge mistake and Jak might just be adopting a ticking time bomb and asking Dax to sign off on it. "Maybe light eco would work."

Doubtful.

"Oh yeah of course, light eco. Let's just mosey on down to the drugstore and pick some up." Daxter takes the first swig from the bottle before thunking it back down. "Jak, even if it would work, you'd probably need enough t'drown him in it. Not that I'd argue against a good old-fashioned drowning in his case, but there's cheaper ways to do it."

Edited 2015-09-15 18:47 (UTC)

Rolling his eyes, Jak snatches the bottle off the table and takes a long drink. He shoves it back.

Daxter's right though. There's light eco in the Wasteland temples, but even Jak had to bypass a ridiculous amount of security to get in. Getting KG-001 in without tripping some kind of fail safe trap would be next to impossible.

"Guess you'd better get used to him until we can think of something else."