Signing

## Meta

Timing: June 22 (Logan gets booked, PPDC flags him, tests him, comes up with a solution for his lack of potential Drift partners).

Setting: Darling-Jones residence

## Text

Derek crosses the midway point on the jailbreak level which has been driving him and Jackson bonkers for over a week.

A harsh knock on the front door.

Derek jumps, jerks the controller.

The guards spot his on-screen avatar—

He counts two deep breaths.

—and the 'Game Over' screen flashes.

"I got it!" he yells, tossing the controller aside.

""Thanks!"" sounds from upstairs.

Another, more insistent, knock.

Derek pads to the foyer, checks the peephole.

Three people in well-tailored suits: two in military blue, one in dove [grey].

Derek opens the door. "Hi?"

[Grey] Suit double-takes him, glances at their phone, and announces, "We'd like to speak to Mx Jackson Jones, please."

"Um, who's asking, if you don—"

"We're only allowed to discuss that with your brother, Mx Jones," replies Left Blue Suit. "We know he's in. Please get him."

Derek shrinks, swallows. "W-wait here, please."

Right Blue Suit nods, almost smirks.

Derek bounds up the stairs two at a time, pops his head in the babies' room. "Jack?"

Book stops helping Wom-wom mountaineer across Jackson's shoulders long enough to wave.

Jackson looks up from arranging blocks on the rug with Baby. "Yea?"

Derek waves back.

Baby stretches for another block.

"There's some people at the door asking for you. They, uh, won't say who they are."

Jackson nudges the object of Baby's desire into reach, raises an eyebrow. "Take over for me?"

"Sure."

Jackson climbs to his feet, stretches his arms and back, strolls out.

Derek drops to the rug, flops on his stomach, tilts his head. "So ... what're our design goals on this project, Baby?"

Jackson's footsteps descend the stairs.

Baby blows a raspberry, makes grabby hands for the blue block.

Derek pushes it closer.

Wom-wom scales his right arm, Book burbling encouragement.

Jackson's voice carries, ""—/**not** /**interested** in signing—""

"'scuse me, Wom-wom," mumbles Derek, wriggling out from under the plushie. He darts to the doorway. "Jack? Everything okay?"

The front door slams.

"Jack?!"

""We're good!"" Jackson calls, turning the corner from the foyer.

Derek hovers in the hall.

Jackson mounts the stairs. "That was weird." Breathes out the tension.

"Y-yea, they were sketchy with me, too," replies Derek. "What'd they want?"

Jackson leads him back into the nursery. "Ooo! A tower! Nice work, bean[."]

Baby giggles, beams.

Jackson drops back to the rug. "That was a personal recruiting visit by the Defense Corps."

Derek leans on the crib, eyebrow quirked. "Aren't you a little old for the army?"

"Oi!"

Wom-wom bounces on Jackson's head.

"Tada!" cheers Book.

"Tada!" cheer Jackson and Derek.

Wom-wom takes celebratory leap.

"Seriously, Jack. What did they want?"

"I dunno. I kicked 'em out before they finished their pitch." Jackson shrugs. "What'd they tell you?"

Baby knocks over the block tower.

"Well ... the blue one said they [were only allowed to talk to you.] Like they had orders. A-and the one in [grey]? Acted like they almost recognized me."

Wom-Wom nuzzles Jackson's neck.

Jackson smooches Wom-Wom's head. "Hopefully that's the end of it. I'm happy with this." Ruffles Baby's curls. "No interest in changing jobs [what-so-/**ever**." Smooches Baby's head.