Tactical Retreat

Jarvis, please confirm that spreadsheet finally decided to let go of my sanity.

Confirmed, sir. Vitals show a minor spike in exasperation,

now subsiding. A minor spike? That meeting was a cosmic threat, J.

Time for a tactical retreat. Ah. That’s better. Nothing beats the

smell of mild existential dread and seven million car exhaust fumes. An acquired scent,

sir. But one that signifies a city currently free of hostile alien forces.

A success, in its own way. A success in its own way.

I like that. You know... they need us. And I’m damn good at being