I mean, you could, but you'd get your ass handed to you. Besides, hasn't this poor baby had enough? Don't fight Jack Ryan.
Fucking do it. Fucking- I will PAY you to beat the shit out of this Irish bastard. Fight Atlas. Fight Atlas and win.
You could fight her, but why? She's done nothing to provoke you. The woman is probably dying of lung cancer anyways. Leave Tenenbaum alone.
Fight the creepy son of a bitch and bring me back his painted mustache.
Sure, fight him. It'll probably change nothing, and you'll garner nothing but the knowledge that you're his test tube bastard, programmed from birth to do the bidding of a looming capitalist overlord.
Kill the looming capitalist overlord.
You could, but at what cost? He's a gentle giant. You'd be better off giving him a hug. He's just trying to be a good dad, okay? Don't fight Delta.
Sure, you'd win, but what pleasure would you derive from it? I mean, the man's tried to apologize for his wrongdoings. I guess if you're one to hold grudges, then maybe you could fight Sinclair.
She will kick your ass and smile while she does. Just... don't. Don't fight Eleanor Lamb, please.
Sure, but it really wouldn't be that great of a fight. She's probably not that strong. You might have to fight off some splicers to get to her, but ultimately it really wouldn't be that satisfying of a victory.
Kick his ass. You'll lose, but it'll be totally worth it to kick his teeth in a little bit. Fight Booker Dewitt.
Look, you could fight Elizabeth. Or you could not mess with space-tearing punch-packing genius babes and leave the room with all bones intact.
Zachary Hale Comstock:
Fight this man. Fight him to the death. FUCK Zachary Comstock.
Fight her. But know that you WILL lose and it'll be devastating.
Rosalind or Robert Lutece:
Don't fight the Lutece twins. They won't land a single blow, they'll just find a universe where you got your ass kicked and your nose will bleed until you die of anemia or something.
When I was a girl, I dreamt of standing in a room looking at a girl who was and was not myself, who stood looking at another girl, who also was and was not myself. My mother took this for a nightmare. I saw it as the beginning of a career in physics.
Brother, what Comstock failed to understand is that our contraption is a window not into prophecy, but probability. But his money means the Lutece Field could become the Lutece Tear – a window between worlds. A window through which you and I might finally be together.