"When I'm outnumbered one to like a dozen and everyone else in the room has guns pointed at my head, sure, I'm a bit meek and helpless," Magtok snarks back, pointing a finger at all the weapons in the room, while he's just standing here with little more than a bottle of soda and a bad attitude to fend them all off.
"I can guarantee their safety, yeah. Trouble is, if I ask for permission to do that, I'll get denied. If I go ahead and do it on my own, proclaim something in public that they can't walk back so easily, I'm going to be excommunicated same as all you [butt]holes. What's the point of me making a deal to fix the MagCave if I'm going to get booted out as soon as I'm done?"
"Your mission is to fix the MagCave so they can come back down to the Nexus and go back to business as usual, right? You could just tell the Hegemony you're not done fixing things," Ambriel suggests. "Just tell them the cloning tanks are still down and you're still cleaning things up whenever they ask how you're-"
"Hold up, you call us the Hegemony? Seriously?"
"It's better than MagCollective, and you're missing the point."
"No no, I didn't mean to mock you. You're right, it's way better than MagCollective. We should think about stealing that and using it ourselves."
"...Fine, whatever. So anyway, you could-" Ambriel is interrupted again, as Magtok shakes his head and wags a finger. The worst, most aggravating part about them all being MagClones is it's so, so easy for any one of them to guess where the other's train of thought is going. After a while you just learn to accept that you're going to be cut off mid-sentence a lot. It probably saves time anyway, and the less time spent talking to yourselves, the better, right?
"No, I can't keep them away indefinitely. Eventually they'll figure out something is up, and then we're liable to have a whole new war on our hands if they think I'm trying to secretly assemble a whole new faction of like-minded Magtoks and keep the MagCave all to myself. What else is it going to look like I'm doing if I never make any sort of progress with cleaning out the MagCave and insist on being the only Magtok in the Nexus indefinitely?"
"Go knock up your girlfriend, then," suggests Haz, completely out of left field. Everyone looks at him like he's got three heads, or he knowingly ate something with Needs' name on it out of the fridge. Realizing this, he sighs, puts his drink down, and breaks his strategy down for all the stupid nerds and clueless clowns in the room. "Okay listen, Pat's Mag, he was exceptionally different from the baseline Magtok, but he didn't get branded as one of us outcasts despite meeting all the criteria. Why? He had a wife and kids, that's why." Drooling idiots, these clowns. Weren't they there? Shouldn't they know this? Were they all so used to being full-fledged Magtok most of their lives that they never bothered paying attention to any of this stuff before The Faction was formed?
"Nobody had the stones to approach him and say 'Alright guy, you're weird and different for being a family man, you don't get to be in the special club.' They didn't bother because they knew that'd mean getting Pat directly involved in your stupid 'some clones are more equal than others' bull****. A non-Mag, an outsider, they would see how screwed up and petty you all are, like Ithuriel's seeing now, and side against all your exclusionary policies. It's not a good look, y'know, kicking out a clone because he's got a wife or kids you're not fond of. They were too chicken**** to do anything back then; they'll be too chicken**** to do anything now."
"...Are you serious? Ithuriel, can you wave a magic wand and see if he's being serious right now? I'm not going to have a kid with Caelynn out of political expediency," Magtok insists. Man, is Haz the self-appointed cynical, misanthropic jerkface of Faction or something? Is that his official job title, does he do all the fighting and bullying and intimidating everyone else in the room thinks they're too good to dirty their hands with?