Approximately twelve thousand feet above the Mojave Desert, Jax was regretting some of his recent life choices. He was regretting them in much the same way a dying soldier regrets going to war. The way a mosquito regrets feasting on a poisoned man's blood. The way a cheap pudding regrets living in England. He was regretting his life choices so much, in fact, that some of them were getting a little offended.
Becoming involved with Zeke and Ugly Jack had been his first mistake. A mistake he wouldn't repeat if he - or gravity - had anything to say about it. His second mistake was going along with their brilliant and foolproof plan. His third mistake was not getting caught by the police. His fourth mistake was getting caught by the people who weren't the police. His fifth mistake was getting thrown out of a plane.
Jax really regretted lighting his parachute on fire.
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