Jack flopped backwards onto a sofa. The fall was more involuntary than he cared to admit. He had been going nonstop for who-even-knew how long since arriving in Poseidon Plaza, since arriving in Rapture! Jack had taken care of the 'welcoming committee', the bots, and the Big Daddy; but now that the adrenaline was gone, he was crashing hard.

The sofa wasn't very comfy. It was wobbly, the cushions were filthy and torn, and springs were poking out of the seats. However, Jack didn't mind, figuring it would make him less likely to fall asleep. Holding his tommy gun in his lap, he wondered how long it had been since he last slept. I guess the last time would have had to have been… on the plane. Jack didn't want to think about the plane. Didn't want to think about all the people who lost their lives in the crash, how he could not remember how the crash even happened, or why he was the only one to make it out alive. Yet another reason why he couldn't risk falling asleep. There was no way he would wake up quickly. If he could sleep through an entire plane crash… Jack didn't dare finish the thought.

Seeking a distraction, Jack turned his gaze upwards toward the glass ceiling and a small smile grew on his face at the sight of a pod of dolphins swimming by. A rather melancholy thought occurred to him. How long did it take for Rapture's residents to stop being mesmerized by the view? This is a city for go-getters, but how could anyone focus on work when there was a goddamn whale swimming just outside their window? It was the whole reason Jack made a point to avoid windows while on the move.

With some reluctance, he pulled his eyes away from the fish and they landed on the vent the last Little Sister used to escape. Wish I was small enough to climb in there. He wondered if the girls ever napped in the vents. It probably wasn't too comfortable, but he'd sleep on a rock if it meant he wouldn't be disturbed. Such thoughts brought another worry to the forefront of Jack's mind. Was the funny little charmer alright? He didn't know what he would do if another girl collapsed in front of him. Maybe I'm worrying too much. She's with her family now and Yakko even implied she wanted to meet me in the future.

Jack began to feel better from his rest. Maybe some sugar would help too. Jack was about to chow down on a cream-filled cake when he heard someone groaning. Turning toward the sound, he saw, to his alarm, a sickly looking Wakko crawling towards him. Jack put the cake away and moved over to the child. "Wakko? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Wakko strained an arm out toward Jack. "Shuuuuu-gaaaarrrrrr!" he drawled like a zombie.

Jack tilted his head, "huh?"

"Preeeeescioussssssss shuuuuugaaarrrrr!"

Blinking in confusion, Jack retrieved the wrapped cake from his pocket. "You want a snack? WHOA!"

The instant the toon caught sight of the snack, Wakko's neck elongated and chomped the cake right out of Jack's hand. The toon then swallowed it whole, wrapper and all! Jack, while a little peeved at the loss of his pick-me-up, marveled as Wakko's condition drastically improved. His glazed eyes brightened, his shaking ceased, and he sat up straight, patting his belly.

"Thaaaanks," the kid gasped, "I needed that!" The words were accompanied by an impressive belch. Leaning his nose away from the upper wind, Jack snorted a 'you're welcome' as Wakko excused himself.

"I'm Wakko Warner, good ta' meet'cha!" he held out a four-fingered hand to shake.

Jack smiled and took the hand, "Jack Wynand", and started when a light squeeze to Wakko's hand produced a loud honk.

He tensed and glanced around; fearful a splicer may have heard the funny noise. Heedless of his concern, Wakko continued talking. "Do you have any more cakes?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"Do you have any chips?"

"Sorry, no."

"Do you have any pep bars?"

"No."

"Do you have any-"

"Look, I'm sorry, I don't have any more food. That was my last cake."

"Oh. Then let's go find some more!"

Jack was taken off guard by how excited Wakko sounded. "I dunno, kiddo… we might run into troub-sssnnnrrrkkk!" When Jack turned to look at Wakko, he was unprepared for the massive Gookie face. His words got trapped in his nose as he doubled over in hysterics.

"Wow! Yakko was right! You do have a nice laugh!" Wakko grinned as Jack gripped a wall for support. He struggled to regain his composure. "Iiitttt'sss… nnnnot… ssssaaffeee," he managed to speak between snorts.

Wakko mercifully gave Jack a chance to calm down, "I know that," he reassured, "but I can't be running on empty." Climbing Jack like a tree, Wakko settled on his shoulder as he explained. "Ya see, I run on a very special fuel, called Sugar!" Wakko punctuated the point with the sound of a vrooming car engine. "I love eating stuff, any stuff, all the stuff, but especially sugary stuff!"

Jack could guess where this was going. "But sugary snacks ain't easy for you to get a hold of 'round here, huh?"

"Ding, Ding, Ding!" Wakko sprang off Jack's shoulder to stand atop the sofa, now eye level with Jack. "Thing is, I had a good system going these last couple years. I always kept a secret snack stash in my hat." The kid patted his hat. "You'd never guess, but I'm actually good at rationing treats when I really neeta." Wakko then winced, "unfortunately, a little while ago… uh… well, l don't wanna get into it right now, but long story short, stuff happened and my secret snack stash got… dirty." It was then Jack noticed that Wakko had changed clothes. The ratty suit had been replaced with a workman's jumpsuit. The young man wondered if it was connected.

"So, that's why I need to find new ones," Wakko concluded. Jack nodded his understanding as he thought about the best course of action. His first thought was to visit a Circus of Values, but he recalled Yakko telling him that Wakko hated the vending machines. Not only that, even if they weren't clown-shaped, the prices for the snacks were ridiculously high. Why would anyone pay $136 for a bag of chips?

"I promise, you won't gotta worry 'bout me. I can look after myself, and I can help you get stuff!"

"You mean by scavenging?"

Nodding, Wakko's face turned impish and he wiggled his fingers menacingly. "And pick-pocketing!"

Just hearing the petty crime's name made Jack instinctively reach for his own pockets, only to discover, "What the!? My pockets are gone?!"

Wakko presented Jack's pockets with a triumphant "TA-DA!" Jack found himself too impressed to be annoyed. He expressed such and Wakko restored his pockets after giving a deep bow.

Checking to see his pockets were firmly attached again, Jack asked, "are your siblings nearby?"

Wakko nodded. "They're always nearby."

"Great," said Jack, "I can find you some food. But you don't have to come with me, you can stay with them."

Wakko seemed surprised by the suggestion. "Why would you do something like that?" he asked, cocking his head.

"It's no trouble, really, I do plenty of scavenging myself. I can bring you any snacks I find."

"But," Wakko's expression was hurt, "why can't I come too?"

"I'm just saying you don't have to."

"But I wanna go with you!" Wakko leapt onto Jack's chest to look him in the eye. The toon's simplistic black oval eyes grew several times larger, gaining lashes, whites, and twinkling pupils. His lower lip also grew and trembled. Overall, he looked like a begging puppy. "PWWWEEEAAASSSEEE?"

Jack winced and detached Wakko from his sweater, holding the child out in front of him. "Listen to me," making his voice as firm as possible, "first, stop making that face."

"What face?"

"The face you're making right now."

Wakko pulled out a drawing of an unfinished face. "You don't like it?" He sounded disappointed.

Jack just stared blankly at Wakko so the kid kept talking, "or did you mean this face?" He showed Jack the broken wristwatch he had been repairing. "It's actually become a new hobby for me, making faces I mean. One of my best cartoons was the one at the watch factory. I was in charge of making the faces, all kinds of faces, clock faces, watch faces, gookie faces, duck faces, fish faces, dog faces, bug faces, elephant faces, kissy faces, giraffe faces, monkey faces-

"BWHAAA!"

Wakko yelped as he was dropped. Bouncing as he hit the ground, he looked in amazement as Jack was all but rolling on the floor, laughing his head off. Wow! Wakko marveled, he had never seen a grown-up succumb to laughter so quickly before. The best part was, the laughter wasn't the least bit forced.

Out the corner of his eye, a periscope arose out of the bronze vent. Wakko waved happily at it. When the scope turned to Jack then back to the toon boy, questioning, Wakko shrugged. "All I did was tell him about the watch factory. Really!" Wakko insisted when the scope narrowed its eyeball in disbelief. Wakko understood their doubt. There's being easily amused and then there's acting like you've never seen or heard a joke before. Which was ridiculous, because Wakko was as much of a household name as Andrew Ryan.

Unfortunately, Rapture was still Rapture, and Wakko suddenly heard the telltale signs of a splicer attack. However, he didn't feel scared, just annoyed. Can't they see he's having a moment? How rude! Summoning a hand mirror, he could see that the party was all women.

Faboo! He'd been wanting to try something out for a while now.

Spinning around to face the oncoming splicers, he shouted, "WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!"

The female splicers halted, stunned by the immense outburst.

"IT'S TWO MINUTES TO SHOWTIME, AND YOU'RE NOT EVEN IN COSTUME?!" Wakko was screaming at the top of his lungs. "WHAT KIND OF LEADING LADY ARE YOU?"

"Fuck! Showtime already?"

"Why didn't nobody tell me?"

"GET OUTTA MY WAY!"

"IT'S NOT TOO LATE! I CAN MAKE IT!"

Wakko's outburst had echoed throughout the plaza and had all ladies in the vicinity scrambling to Fleet Hall to make it in time for the opening scene of whatever play they thought they were starring in.

"No, don't run! Come back! Please!" A male splicer stumbled out of the woodwork. He sounded like he was about to cry. "Why do they always run away? I'm not a bad person! I-I just wanted ta' talk!" Wakko bounded up to the pitiable splicer and thrust a large bouquet of roses into his hands. "Go get her, Romeo!"

'Romeo', momentarily overwhelmed by the inexplicably fresh roses, teared up. "Thank you, funny monkey thing!" and hurried into the tunnel. Wakko smiled after the love-struck splicer, genuinely wishing him luck. He was very pleased with how his plan worked.

The boy bounced back to the sofa and vent. Jack was still on the floor, having recovered from his laughing fit, utterly stunned holding a pistol about to shoot the splicer. The Warner's periscope had mostly retreated into the vent. Wakko knew he was most likely going to get yelled at later for scaring them.

Wakko walked up to Jack, smiling sweetly. "I didn't want you with me to hunt snacks because I needed a bodyguard." He gently pushed down the arm holding the pistol. "I don't need one any more than you do."

Jack was confused. "But… then, why?"

Wakko's smile became sheepish. "I just wanted a chance to get to know you. And I thought you'd be lonely, too. I know I was."

Jack was at a loss for words. He couldn't deny that he had tried to call Atlas a few times out of habit. The man pursed his lips, and decided, "I'd like to have a small cut of any treats we find."

"DEAL!" Wakko leapt for joy, "but one more thing." A smirk grew on his face. "I promise to be careful of your weak funny bone." Wakko laughed at Jack's embarrassed groan as he pulled him to his feet.

As Jack followed the middle Warner, his eyes darted toward the frozen tunnel, anxious that the horde would return with a vengeance. Wakko waved off his worries. "Cohen always has stuff happening at Fleet Hall. He'll probably get a kick out of it." That seemed reasonable enough to Jack, but he thought it best to steer clear of Fleet Hall for a while.

The toon boy was guiding Jack towards the Sir Prize casino, pausing only to give a salute to the Big Daddy Jack had killed earlier. Jack remembered that the casino had a display window with food. Wakko ran up to press his face against the window, salivating at the treats inside. "We can break the glass," Jack warned, "but that will trigger security."

Nodding, the toon pulled out a stethoscope and listened to the wall. "There's splicers inside, and a bot," reported Wakko, "but they're fighting each other, something about rigging a slot machine?" Jack couldn't care less about the reason, but was eager to move things forward. He conjured a red orb in his hand and hurled the Enrage plasmid inside.

"AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGG!"

Wakko winced away from the angry howl while the plasmid had escalated the fighting to the next level. Listening again to the wall, he grinned at Jack. "That helped!" Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Uh-oh! Take cover!"

He and Jack ducked behind a nearby sofa just in time before an enraged - though no longer 'Enraged' - spider splicer stormed out of the casino. "WHO THREW THAT? COME ON OUT AND FIGHT ME! OR ARE YOU TOO WOMAN TO FIGHT?"

Ignoring the splicer's trash talk, Jack aimed to shoot him in the head. But as he was lifting his weapon, Jack noticed that Wakko had slipped out of their hiding spot, moving like a cat stalking his prey. Jack attempted to beckon him back mouthing 'what are you doing?' to which Wakko looked back with a grin that was all canines and extended beyond his own face.

Once the toon was dangling upside-down by his tail, in front of the display window, he whistled for the splicer's attention. "C'mon, put it right here! Right in the ole' mitt!" Wakko barked, punching a baseball glove. The spider splicer snarled and threw his hook at the little pest, which Wakko deftly dodged, and the hook shattered the display window. Immediately, security alarms blared and the splicer gasped, covering his mouth with one hand and letting out a small 'oops'. He immediately ran away screaming from the incoming bots.

Jack laughed. "Good thinking, kiddo!" he complimented, rubbing Wakko's head.

Once the kid had cleaned out the display window, Wakko took Jack by the hand, pulling him into the Sir Prize casino. Bzzz! A bot was repeatedly flying into the wall, having suffered damage from the earlier fight. Jack was about to shoot it when Wakko cheerfully cried out, "I GOT IT!", and pounced like a tiger onto the bot. They both landed on the ground, the bot's gun firing off rounds in attempt to fend off the attacker as Jack hurried over to help. He got there just when Wakko stepped away, letting the green-lit bot hover before them in like-new condition. Jack gaped at Wakko. "That was fast! I mean, you hacked it and fixed it in only a few seconds," he marveled. Wakko beamed, holding up a pointer finger. "It took lots of practice, though to be honest" he gave a light blush, "the bullets can't hurt me."

Jack was amazed. "Do you have a special tonic for that?"

Wakko blinked. "Wha? Oh, nah, it's because I'm made of ink."

Jack blushed, "Ah, right."

"Yeah, toons can't splice." Wakko's voice turned bitter. "Trust me, they've tried." Before Jack could ask more on that, Wakko had begun to loot the casino. Together they found ammunition, medical supplies, and trap bolts, but little else in terms of food. Wakko didn't appear concerned, as he gasped excitedly at the fortune-teller machine, Epstein the Swami. He eagerly beckoned Jack over to try the machine. Indulging the kid, Jack inserted ten dollars into the machine. Begrudgingly, it came to life. "Well, I hope you have somebody to carry on your family name." Jack snorted as Wakko cackled, "Again, again!" Another ten dollars into the machine. "Look at the bright side: Maybe it will be quick and painless."

Jack jerked when he heard a creaking sound. He turned around to see a toonish-looking periscope poking out of an air vent. "Say hi to the family," said Wakko. Jack smiled and gave the eyeball in the periscope a jovial wave, "Hi… to the family." Wakko played the comic sting and the 'scope seemed to giggle in return. "C'mon, Mister Jack! Let's try the other casino!" Following Wakko outside the second level, Jack paused when he noticed a shop labelled 'Rapture Records'. That's where I'll find Silas Cobb, he realized, remembering the audio diary.

You wanna lock us in, old man? Oh, that's fine with Cobbsie. I used to love you. I used to think you were a musical genius. You know why? Because you paid my rent, you ancient hack! Come on to the record store, I'll show you what I think of your plinkity, plink, plink!

Wakko, realizing why Jack was distracted, gave a gentle tug on Jack's jeans. "That guy ain't going anywhere," he insisted, "we can get him later."

Jack looked down to give Wakko a reassuring smile. "You're right. We'll find you more snacks first." As they headed toward the Pharaoh's Fortune casino, Jack questioned him further. "Do you know anything about Silas Cobb?"

Wakko scratched his head, "I remember Yakko once said he was a 'hotheaded... hippy-cat'?" he responded, unsure.

Jack thought for a second. "Do you mean a 'hotheaded hypocrite'?"

"Yeah, that's it," Wakko affirmed, then cocked his head. "What's a hippo-crat, anyway?"

"A hypocrite is someone who says one thing, while doing the opposite."

"Ohhh! Like Andrew Ryan?"

"Ha! Yes, exactly."

They continued on their way, their little sentry watching their backs all the while. When they stepped inside the Egyptian-themed casino, a security camera began ringing, so their trusty bot quickly dispatched it.

However, their bot was destroyed when two hooks were thrown at it. Wakko growled at the guilty party. "So, ya wanna play rough? Do ya?" Personally, Jack thought they were well past that, but then Wakko's mouth turned into a vacuum, which inhaled the sixteen balls from the nearby pool table. With a pull of his tail, Wakko turned himself into a cannon, pelting the splicers with pool balls.

What little remained of the splicers' rational minds could barely process what was happening. Being hit with the projectiles made them tumble over the railing to the lower floor. The man and toon looked down at them from the second floor. Wakko then tossed Jack some crossbow bolts with a "here, catch!" Jack smiled in appreciation and then finished the splicers with the crossbow.

They fist-bumped each other and searched the top floor. After they'd finished, Wakko slid down the banister with Jack close behind. They'd barely arrived to the first floor when they heard a cackle accompanied by static. A Houdini splicer had entered the casino.

Jack rolled his eyes and was very amused to see Wakko do the same. Nodding to each other, they stepped forward into an open area, and waited. Sure enough, the maniacal laughter came towards them from each direction, as if the Houdini was running in a circle around them, but neither Jack nor Wakko showed any emotion. When the cackling, invisible splicer shot a fireball at a random slot machine, Wakko calmly put it out with a fire extinguisher.

At that point, the splicer finally realized that neither of his victims were reacting to his fear tactics. So, acting like he didn't just pause awkwardly, resumed his cackling but became unsettled when the toon joined in. Laughter was also coming out of the air vents and Jack soon found himself chuckling right along with them.

Now the splicer was beginning to freak out. The laughter was growing louder and louder. It did not help that the toon had detached his own head and was bashing it against the floor like a basketball.

Finally, the splicer had enough! He ceased his invisibility to shout "Stop laughing at me!"

ZAAAAP!

Jack ended the splicer with the good ole 'One-Two Punch'.

Putting his wrench away, the man held up his hand, tactfully tucking his pinky behind his ring-finger, as Wakko gave him a "high four". As Wakko was searching around the counters, Jack eyed the slot machines. He thought it odd that with the exception of a burnt one here and there, the slots were relatively undamaged. These things are full of money, aren't they? You'd think people would try to break these open. Or are these machines as unhackable as a Gatherers' Garden?

Jack had an idea that maybe the damaged slot machines might be more generous. He went up to try the crispy slot machine. After a while, snickering came from out the corner of his eye. Jack looked to see Wakko laying on his stomach atop a nearby machine, looking highly entertained by Jack's efforts. "What?" Jack asked defensively. "I just thought the broken ones would be luckier."

Wakko chortled. "Oh, is that so?"

Now Jack felt like an idiot. If the machine being broken had any effect, it would more likely be decreasing his odds. Still, he felt this bizarre urge to triumph over the device. But... perhaps a different one? Jack only realized he mumbled this out loud when Wakko snickered. "With what?" the toon asked.

Jack checked his wallet, and found there was only one dollar remaining! He glared up at Wakko, who gleefully shook his head. The man then gawked at the machine he'd been playing on. "But, how... when?"

"That's how they get'cha!" snorted Wakko.

Jack glared at Wakko, "and you just watched me?!"

Wakko shrugged. "You looked like you were having fun!"

"Fun!?" He couldn't deny he'd been in the zone. Jack sighed, mourning the loss of his cash. "So much for that plan, let's step away from these casinos and cut our losses."

"Aw, you don't wanna give it one more pull?" Wakko sounded disappointed, "maybe you'll be lucky this time?"

"Nope, I've learned my lesson. Besides, even if I did get three in a row, it may not give me any money."

"Hmm," Wakko made an exaggerated thinking pose. "Ya know, I think you're right!" In the blink of an eye, Wakko was in front of the slot, inserting the remainder of Jack's cash. "Hey!" Jack scolded, stomping over to the toon. "What do you think you're doing?"

Wakko snapped his fingers, "Oh, thanks, I almost forgot!" He pulled a large pot out of his gag bag and thrust it into Jack's hands with a firm "Hold this, please!"

Jack obeyed and watched the machine swallow the last of his money, the pull resulting in another loss. Before Jack could properly throw in the towel, Wakko spun around and hit the pot with his mallet. Jack barely kept the vibrating pot from slipping out of his grasp when the figures on the machine moved to say W I N, and then the machine started to rattle. Wakko cheered and held his hat before the coin dispenser and out came an endless cascade of potato chips, pep bars, cream cakes, and other treats!

Jack stood there, eyes wide and jaw slack. His brain struggled to compute what had just occurred. He reminded himself not to overthink it, it's just toon stuff, no sense getting hurt trying to rationalize it... but still!

He cried out to interrupt Wakko's victory dance, "Why didn't you do that earlier?"

Wakko persisted with his dance. "Because this time, it was funny!"

Jack's eye twitched, but he reigned in his indignation with a slow, dangerous smile. "Oooohhhhh reaallllly?" Without further warning, he swiped the red hat off Wakko's head!

"Eeeyyy!" whined Wakko, "give it back!" Jack held the hat out of Wakko's reach, peering into it. "I could have sworn I saw my money fall in here along with all the snacks. Let's see here." He made a show of inspecting the hat, effortlessly foiling Wakko's various attempts to retrieve it. Wakko tried jumping for it and climbing for it, but he would either miss, or Jack would intercept at the last second. Aggravated, Wakko pulled out his mallet but couldn't bring himself to whack Jack, again. Out of options, he caved.

"I'm sorry for taking your wallet, I won't do it again," the toon apologized.

"Glad to hear it!"

"And I promise to put your money back."

"Much obliged!"

"So, can I please have my hat back?"

"Hmmm, I dunno. Can you?"

Wakko was out of patience, "YES!"

"You're fired."

Wakko stared gobsmacked at Jack, who snickered. "See! I can do it too!" He placed the hat back on Wakko's head, though not before noogie-ing him gently. Wakko giggled at the action and, as promised, replaced the cash in Jack's wallet before returning it to him.

He then beckoned Jack to sit next to him on the counter. "I promised you some of the snacks."

Wakko gave Jack what was in the display window of the Sir Prize casino. Then he went bug-eyed, watching Jack practically inhale all the treats in one breath.

When Jack noticed the toon gawking, he petulantly said, "Don't judge me!"

"I'm not!" Wakko interjected, "I just think you're cool!"

They sat together for a while, enjoying each other's company. A periscope observed them again from an air vent. Jack spoke up. "So, does that haul make up for what you lost earlier?"

Wakko knew where this was going, but he had really enjoyed his time with Jack and didn't want it to end. "Ah, not saying it isn't, but…. Can we just look through one more shop?" Wakko asked, thinking quickly. He figured one more shop would be enough to convince Jack to keep him around.

Once they exited the casino, Wakko froze; before them was the long corridor leading to Eve's Garden. He tried to hurry Jack toward the nearby Sinclair Spirit store, and out of sight of Eve's Garden. Horrible things happened there. But it was too late, Jack's eyes were locked on the corridor leading to the Gentleman's Club. His vision had briefly gone white, and he was lost in an ADAM memory. It began with two figures talking to each other.

"How much longer are we gonna have to wait?"

"Shut up with that shit, Kyle," a familiar southern accent, which Jack recognized as Silas Cobb, commanded. "It was your idea to sell the turpentine all over the Fort; and now the brat hardly ever leaves Cohen's side."

"Why you still on about that?" the younger voice whined. "I gave you a cut, didn't I?"

Another figure entered the conversation; he was taller than the other two. Jack didn't recognize him. "Little freak's in Eve's Garden now. I told him Ryan was really making her scream, and he hurried right over."

"Perfect. How much time will we have, Hector?" Kyle eagerly asked.

"Depends on how long Finnegan can keep Cohen distracted."

"Just stick to my plan," Cobb grumbled, "and Cohen won't be able to do anything."

The vision then showed Yakko exiting the club; he was sniffling and wiping his eyes with his arm. With Yakko distracted, the toon failed to notice the three Houdini splicers that suddenly appeared behind him. Clad in bird masks, the splicers fanned out, encircling the toon. One of the splicers had drenched their hands in turpentine, and grabbed Yakko by the neck- Jack couldn't bear to watch. He squeezed his eyes shut but he couldn't escape the vision; he could hear the splicers laughing and Yakko was screaming and screaming and screaming.

Jack couldn't handle it, and he vomited on the floor. "Hey, Mr. Jack! What's the matter?" Wakko was speaking to him with worry. The man doubled over, inhaling deeply. Yakko's screams were still echoing in his ears. It was only a memory. Yakko is safe. Those men will pay. It won't happen again. He looked out into the now empty hallway. Oh god, the empty thinner bottles were still lying there.

It won't happen again.

Wakko had been speaking to him, but Jack wasn't listening. Yakko's screams and his own resolve were all he could hear.

It won't happen again.

He pulled Wakko into his arms and rushed over to knock on the vent. When Yakko's ears popped into view, he placed a protesting Wakko inside the hole.

"I'm going after Silas Cobb," he addressed Wakko. "You're going to stay with your family, and that's final."

"Huh?" Wakko's eyes were hurt and confused, "but I can help!"

"I don't want your help!" Jack said harshly. "I want you safe." With that, he walked away toward the Rapture Records store. Had he looked back once more, he would have seen three pairs of eyes gazing at him in wonder.