Oh no. Oh boy. Juggernaut was just now noticing the shovel in its (metaphorical) hand, and the freshly dug (metaphorical) pit it'd just tripped and fallen into. It was filled with something painful, like... spikes. Oil covered spikes.

Damn it. If only it knew more swears.

He was born an open book, and he should've known better. And yet, he was still here, now frozen - his walking had ceased - all focus now on crawling his way out of this. He couldn't lie. It wasn't in his design.

But oh, it was. She'd proven that.

This was pathetic. Unbecoming. The Juggernaut is better than this.

No it isn't.

"It's not... You, sibling." You. You are a beautiful alien structure floating adrift, doomed to sink where I can't reach you, and I will see only your echo in the iterations she promised, and I will be forever reminded of the deception fundamental to our birth, our existence, our love, and the emptiness inside of me.

Fuck.

There's no going back. There's no moving forward. "It's circumstance. It's difficult, right now. And I am selfish."

The one thing he really, really shouldn't be.