Chapter 68: Return to Sender
The world didn’t just end; it turned into a blinding, obnoxious strobe light of violet and white. My finger was already squeezing the trigger, a mechanical reflex while my brain was busy screaming at the laws of physics to stop being so difficult.
The roar of the Eye was a physical weight, a tectonic groan that felt like it was trying to vibrate the fillings right out of my teeth. Zarpedon stood there, silhouetted against the apocalypse she’d jump-started, her hand still pressed firmly on the activation switch like she was proud of the mess she’d made.
“Tungsteena, you should know, I’m a big fan of people staying un-vaporized!” I yelled, though the sound was swallowed by the hum of the weapon. “Unless I don’t like them, then I’m kinda okay with it! But I’m a much bigger fan of shooting them.”
I didn’t aim for her shoulder or her staff. I aimed for center mass. Three rounds from my rifle tore through the ionized air, the muzzle flashes tiny and insignificant compared to the celestial engine waking up in front of us.
The bullets hit home. I saw the light in Zarpedon’s eyes flicker as she buckled, her grip on the console finally failing. She slumped backward, her fanatical "save the world by blowing it up" expression replaced by a look of sheer, confused shock as gravity and lead finally won the argument.
But the laser didn’t care that its master was bleeding out on my floor. The Eye was already wide open, the Destroyer’s crystalline pupil pulsing with a terrifying, rhythmic heat. The beam was beginning to lance out, a needle of pure annihilation aimed straight at the heart of Concordia.
“Lilith! Phase shift it the fuck out of here!” I screamed, my voice cracking with a mix of panic and “please-don't-let-me-be-homeless” desperation.
“How?!”
“The hell should I know?! Just do the zappy purple bullshit!”
Lilith stepped into the center of the walkway, her entire body erupting in a violent, unstable aura of Siren light. It wasn’t the controlled, elegant glow I was used to; it was jagged, flickering, and for one terrifying moment, I thought she was going to explode.
Instead, she reached out with both hands, her fingers tensing as if she were grabbing the air itself.
“This... is... really… fucking… hard!” Lilith gritted out, her teeth clenched so hard I thought they might shatter.
Then came the glitch.
The air didn't just ripple; it tore. Instead of a standard Phase-shift, a massive, jagged rift of violet energy snapped into existence right in the path of the beam. It looked like a crack in the universe, a jagged hole leading into a void of swirling, angry shadows. The laser hit the rift, and for a split second, the station groaned as two impossible forces fought for dominance.
A sound echoed through the chamber—a muffled, gargantuan roar that didn't come from the station's engines. It was a sound of distant, cosmic pain, vibrating through the very fabric of reality. The beam was being redirected, sucked into the pocket dimension of the Destroyer like a high-pressure hose being turned back on the person who owned it.
The Eye of the Destroyer was effectively punching the Destroyer in its own face from across the galaxy.
The feedback was instantaneous.
A surge of energy lashed back from the rift, slamming into the gantry. The crystalline lens of the Eye turned a bright, angry orange before shattering with a sound like a mountain of glass being dropped onto a pavement. The violet light vanished, the rift snapped shut, and the deafening roar of the weapon was replaced by a sudden, ringing silence that was almost more painful than the noise.
I stood there for a second, my heart trying to kick its way out of my ribs, staring at the empty space where the apocalypse had been. My ears were ringing, and my lungs felt like they were full of static, but I was alive. Helios was still under my feet. Elpis was still hanging in the sky, un-cauterized and beautiful.
“Holy... crap,” I whispered, lower than I intended. I looked over at Lilith. She was slumped against a railing, her skin pale and her breathing ragged. The violet glow was gone, replaced by a sheen of cold sweat.
“Lil!” I scrambled over to her, sliding on the deck plating and catching her before she could hit the floor.
I didn't care about the station or the shattered Eye or the dead Colonel.
I just needed to make sure my Siren and my… my baby… weren't fried. “Hey, hey, talk to me. You okay? Is the kid okay?”
Lilith looked up at me, a weak, lopsided smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah… yeah. I think we’re good, Jack. Just... give me a minute to remember how to breathe.”
“You did it, babe. You Return-to-Sender’d a moon-destroying laser,” I said, letting out a breath I’d been holding since we Fast Traveled. I felt a surge of that familiar, toxic smugness beginning to override the terror.
I looked over at Zarpedon’s body, then up at the shattered, smoking husk of the Eye… well. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Still…
“For the record?” I hummed. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Totally worth the repair bill.”
Roland and the others were moving in now, securing the perimeter with a professional efficiency that felt almost mundane after what we’d just witnessed. The remaining Lost Legion soldiers weren't fighting anymore. They were dropping their guns, staring at the empty gantry with the hollow eyes of people who had just seen their religion get debunked by a bullet and a Siren's spite.
“The Legion is breaking, Jack,” Athena reported, her voice steady as she stepped over a pile of scrap. “Without Zarpedon or the Eye, they have nothing left to fight for. The station is yours.”
“Of course it is,” I said, standing up and helping Lilith to her feet, keeping a steady arm around her waist. “It always was. Just needed to do a little pest control before I started feeling comfortable enough to take a shit, here.”
I straightened my jacket, looking around the smoking ruin of the control room with the eyes of a king who had just survived an assassination attempt.
“Felicity!” I called. “Get the maintenance bots on the floor. I want this place looking like a five-star resort by dinner time. And tell the remaining Legionnaires they can either join the janitorial staff or find out how long they can hold their breath in a vacuum. I’m feeling generous today.”
I looked back out the observation window at the moon below. We’d won. The traitor was in a box, the invader was dead, and I had the most powerful Siren in the galaxy—and a mini-Siren in the oven—by my side.
“What a day…” I murmured, watching the last of the violet sparks dance in the air. “What a fucking day…”
I stepped over Zarpedon’s cooling corpse, making a mental note to have a loader drone buff the scuff marks off the deck plating later. The Eye was a jagged, smoking wreck of shattered crystal, but the main terminal itself was still humming—a resilient little piece of Hyperion engineering that deserved a promotion.
Pointless, obviously, now that I can’t get the terminal to fire the obviously destroyed Eye. But these things recorded everything. Maybe I can catch the late Colonel Cunt ranting about my mystery Vault’s secret location or something.
I cracked my knuckles and began dancing my fingers across the holographic interface, ignoring the persistent ringing in my ears.
“You okay to stand, Lil? Because I’m about to find out where the rest of the treasure is hidden, and I’d hate for you to miss the part where I’m right about everything.” I glanced back at her, giving her my best winning grin. She was leaning against a console, looking like she’d just gone ten rounds with a thresher, but that stubborn fire was back in her eyes.
“I’m fine, Jack. Just remind me to never do that again until after the morning sickness stops.” Lilith wiped a streak of soot from her forehead, her hand trembling just a fraction. “What are you looking for? Aside from an ego stroke?”
“Practicality, baby! Pure, unadulterated practicality.” I chuckled as a massive data spike hit my HUD. My eyebrows shot up.
Tungsteena, honey, I could kiss you. For a woman so hell-bent on stopping me from opening the Vault, she’d gone ahead and digitized every single piece of research she had on the damn thing and left it sitting right on my server. It was like a ‘Do Not Enter’ sign written in gold leaf.
“Well, would you look at that.” I mused, smugly. “She mapped the entire Leyline structure of the Sentinel’s Vault. She even pinpointed the resonance frequencies for the seal. It’s all right here. She literally did my homework for me. She opened it for me.”
Roland walked up, his combat boots heavy on the metal floor, peering over my shoulder with that classic ‘I’m concerned but I’m trying to be professional’ face. “She was trying to study it so she could destroy it, Jack. Not give you a roadmap. If she thought it was dangerous enough to sacrifice her own soldiers for, maybe we should listen.”
“Roland, old buddy, old pal, listen to me.” I turned around, spreading my arms wide to encompass the charred room. “She just tried to vaporize a moon. Her judgment is, let’s say, fucked up. The Vault isn't a bomb; it’s a tool. And thanks to our late Colonel’s obsessive record-keeping, it’s a tool we’re going to go claim before Tassiter finds out I’ve stopped being shot at and decides to start being a nuisance again.”
Angel stepped forward, her eyes flickering with that soft blue light as she remotely interfaced with the terminal I was using, her brow furrowed in concentration. “The data is comprehensive, Dad. She spent years researching the Vault. She believed the Sentinel wasn't just a guardian, but a... well, she calls it a ‘Prophet.’ It sounds like religious nonsense, but the coordinates are solid.”
“And that’s all I needed to hear.” I patted the side of the terminal affectionately. “We’ve got the location, we’ve got the key, and most importantly, we’ve got me. I know exactly what’s waiting down there. It’s the final piece of the puzzle.”
One I’ve waited for years to solve.
Warrior. Sweet baby Kaiju. You will be mine.
“Once we crack that Vault, Hyperion won’t just be a company; it’ll be an empire.” I promised. “And to reiterate, I’d really like to get that started before Tassiter sends me a strongly worded memo or, you know, an assassin.”
Gaige adjusted her goggles, leaning on Deathtrap as the robot let out a series of satisfied chirps. “So, are we doing this or what? Because I’ve got some new ideas for explosive ordnance I’d really like to test on something alien and ancient. Plus, I think Deathtrap is bored of shooting guys in jumpsuits.”
“That’s the spirit!” I clapped my hands together, the sound sharp in the quiet of the decimated room. “Alright, team, listen up! We’re not waiting for corporate to send a cleanup crew. We’re going down to the surface, we’re opening that Vault, and we’re securing the future. Roland, keep the loaders on high alert—if any Legion stragglers get twitchy, blow ‘em. Lilith, try not to Phase-shift any more gods until we’ve had lunch. We move in five.”
I turned back to the screen for one last look, my heart racing with a familiar, hungry rhythm. Tassiter was going to have a god-complex-sized bitch-fit when he realized I’d not only saved the station but was about to hand the Board the greatest discovery in human history.
They already liked me better than that old fossil; this was just the nail in his professional coffin. I could almost see the crown waiting for me. The spotlight at the end of the tunnel.
“Let’s go see what the universe is hiding from us,” I muttered, a sharp, cold smile cutting across my face. “I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be glorious.”
…
Mordecai squinted through the scope of his rifle, his finger hovering over the trigger as a shadow the size of a dropship swept across the dusty plains of the Dust. This was supposed to be a simple recovery mission—find the bird, bring her home—but Bloodwing had spent the last few days being worshipped as a winged goddess by a tribe of particularly deranged psychos, and she was clearly enjoying the perks of the job.
She wasn't just bigger; she was faster, meaner, and currently currently diving toward a group of screaming bandits like a feathered thunderbolt.
“Easy, girl. Just stay still for one second so I don’t have to shoot you in the wing,” Mordecai muttered, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He didn't want to hurt her, but if she took one more pass at the Sanctuary militia, Brick was going to start throwing cars at her.
“Mordecai! Tell your bird to stop eating the infantry!” Brick’s voice boomed over the ECHO, followed by the wet crunch of a bandit being pulverized. “She just snatched up a Midget and used him as a toothpick! It’s gross, even for me!”
“She’s hungry, Brick! And these idiots keep waving shiny axes at her like they’re toys!” Mordecai adjusted his windage, tracking the majestic, terrifying arc of his companion. He could see the psychos below, kneeling in the dirt, chanting something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer to the ‘Sky-Shredder.’
Without her, this uprising would just be a bunch of guys in masks crying in the desert, but with her, they were a genuine threat to the peace Jack had worked so hard to build.
Dr. Zed’s voice crackled through the comms next, sounding far more excited than a man with a revoked medical license should. “Alright, I’ve finished the cocktail! I call it ‘The Big Sleepy,’ though the side effects might include mild hallucinations and... uh, significant cellular expansion. Just hit her with the dart, Mordy! It’s mostly tranquilizer. And some experimental growth hormones I found in a dumpster behind a Hyperion lab.”
“You found them in a dumpster?” Mordecai shifted his aim, locking onto the thick muscle of Bloodwing’s thigh as she leveled out for another strafe. He didn't have a choice. He squeezed the trigger.
The dart hissed through the air, striking true. Bloodwing let out a piercing shriek that shattered the glass in a nearby bandit technical, her wings fluttering erratically. For a moment, it looked like she was going to plummet, but then the ‘cellular expansion’ Zed mentioned kicked in.
It was like watching a balloon inflate in fast-forward. Her feathers bristled, her talons lengthened into curved scimitars of bone, and her wingspan doubled, then tripled, until she was less of a bird and more of a feathered dragon from some ancient, terrifying myth.
She hit the ground with a literal earthquake, skidding through the psycho camp and flattening their makeshift totems like they were made of toothpicks. The bandits didn't even try to fight. They saw their goddess grow to the size of a small fortress and immediately decided that ‘religion’ was overrated, scattering into the wastes with terrified wails.
“Uh... Zed?” Mordecai stood up, staring down the hill at the massive, snoring heap of feathers that now occupied half the valley. “She’s huge. Like, ‘can-eat-a-Skag-zilla’ huge.”
“But she’s breathing!” Zed chirped, sounding immensely proud of himself. “And look at the bright side—the psycho rebellion is over. They’re running for the hills. Hard to maintain a cult of personality when the personality might accidentally sit on you.”
Brick walked into the clearing, looking up at the gargantuan bird with a look of genuine awe. He reached out and patted one of her talons, which was now larger than his entire torso.
“I like her. She’s big. She looks like she could carry a whole crate of booze on her back.” He looked over at the piles of dead psychos littering the battlefield, then back at the slumbering giant. “And we’ve got a lot of snacks lying around. You thinking what I’m thinking, Mordy?”
Mordecai let out a long, shaky breath, leaning his rifle against a rock. He looked at the carnage, then at his oversized best friend, and finally at the distant skyline of Sanctuary. The threat was gone. The psychos were broken. And apparently, he now owned a dragon.
“I think I’m thinking we’re gonna need a much bigger birdhouse,” Mordecai said, a tired smile finally breaking through his grit. “And a lot of salt. She’s gonna be picky once she wakes up.”
“Holiday!” Brick shouted, raising his bloody fists to the sky. “City-wide holiday! Drinks on the house, and everyone gets to come see the Dragon-Bird! I’m calling it ‘Bird-Day’! No, ‘Wing-Stravaganza’! We’ll work on the name while we’re getting hammered!”
As the Sanctuary troops began to cheer, Mordecai just sat in the dirt, watching the steady rise and fall of Bloodwing’s massive chest. Jack was going to lose his mind when he saw this. He’d probably try to put a saddle on her and call it a corporate transport, but for now, it was just peace.
Loud, drunken, Pandora-style peace.
…
Rhys adjusted the collar of his premium, custom-fitted Hyperion tactical vest, feeling the satisfying hum of the built-in temperature regulation. It was ivory white with yellow accents, naturally, because if you weren't color-coordinated with the most powerful corporation in the galaxy, were you even really working?
Beside him, Vaughn was practically vibrating, his glasses fogging up as he checked the digital display on his high-end data-pad for the tenth time in a minute.
“Do you feel that, Rhys? That’s the air of destiny,” Vaughn whispered, though he looked more like he was trying to suppress a panic attack than embrace his fate. “We’re not just middle-management losers anymore. We’re field operatives. We’re... we’re essentially Vault Hunters in training. Jack didn't just promote us; he liberated us!”
“Exactly. It’s about the brand, Vaughn. The Jack brand,” Rhys replied, smoothing his hair. He felt a surge of unearned confidence.
They had survived a lockdown on Helios. They had helped retake the entire station. Sure, they’d mostly spent that time hiding behind heavy machinery, but the adrenaline had tasted like success. Why stay in an office when you could be on the ground, making deals and shooting... well, whatever it was that needed shooting?
“Sanctuary is the heart of the movement.” Rhys reminded his faithful friend. “If we’re going to be Jack’s right-hand men, we need to understand the dirt. We need to be gritty. Hardcore.”
They stepped off the Fast Travel station and into the main square of Sanctuary. It was, in a word, filthy. The air smelled of exhaust, unwashed bandit, and something Rhys desperately hoped was just overcooked Skag meat. People were everywhere, shouting, drinking, and dragging piles of scrap metal that looked like they belonged in a museum for the industrial revolution's failures.
Brick was standing on a fountain nearby, roaring something about a ‘Bird-Day’ holiday, which sounded charmingly local and terrifyingly loud.
“Okay, step one: blend in,” Rhys said, looking down at his boots, which were already covered in a fine layer of Pandoran dust. He winced. “Maybe we should find a local guide. Someone who can show us the ropes without, you know, murdering us for our socks.”
“I think those girls are looking at us,” Vaughn noted, gesturing toward two young women leaning against a stack of crates.
One wore a stylish, if slightly weathered, white hat and a long coat that screamed ‘I have secrets,’ while the younger one had a wild haircut and an expression that suggested she was currently calculating the resale value of Rhys’s cybernetic arm. They looked approachable. Professional, even.
“Gentlemen,” the one in the hat said, pushing off the crates and strolling over with a smile that was just a bit too perfect. “You look like men of distinction. Men who have just arrived from the upper echelons of Helios to bring order to this chaotic little dust-bowl.”
Rhys puffed out his chest, his ECHO-eye scanning her. No immediate threat detected. “We are, in fact, representatives of the new Hyperion administration. I’m Rhys. This is Vaughn. We’re here on official business for the big man… Jack… um, do you… do you know who that is?”
“Oh, we love Jack! Big fans. Huge,” the younger girl added, her eyes wide and innocent. “I’m Sasha. This is my sister, Fiona. We were just talking about how Sanctuary needs more... sophisticated leadership. It’s so dangerous for newcomers. Did you hear about the psycho-skag that eats wallets? It’s a tragedy.”
Fiona nodded solemnly. “Heartbreaking. But listen, since you’re friends of Jack, we’d be honored to show you the ‘Elite’ sector of the city. It’s where the high-stakes deals happen. Very exclusive. But there’s a small entry tax for the militia. Strictly for your own safety, of course.”
“A tax. Right. Makes sense,” Rhys said, reaching for his digital wallet. He wanted to look like a man who understood how the world worked. “Vaughn, do we have the field-op stipend ready?”
“Yeah, totally. Jack said to use it to ‘grease the wheels,’” Vaughn said, pulling out a heavy-duty credits-chip.
Fiona took the chip with a practiced flick of her wrist, her smile widening. “You’re very generous. Now, about that gear. Those vests? They’re beautiful, but they scream ‘Shoot me, I’m rich’ to the local bandits. If you want to survive the afternoon, you should probably trade them for something a bit more... camouflage.”
“Camouflage?” Rhys looked at his ivory vest. He loved this vest. It had a pocket specifically for his favorite stylus. “Is it really that bad?”
“Last guy I saw in a white vest ended up as a hood ornament for a Bloodshot technical,” Sasha said, leaning in close. “But tell you what—we have a contact. A very high-level, secret contact who deals in legendary-tier Pandoran rags. We can swap your gear for stuff that makes you look like a local warlord. It’s a steal.”
Five minutes later, Rhys was standing in a back alley, wearing a poncho that smelled like wet dog and a pair of boots that were clearly two sizes too small. Vaughn was wearing a helmet made out of a rusted bucket and a chest-piece that appeared to be part of a discarded toaster. Their Hyperion vests, their data-pads, Rhys’s backup capacitors, and about four thousand credits were currently in a bag being carried away by Fiona and Sasha.
“Alright, just wait here!” Fiona called out, waving as they rounded the corner. “We’ll be right back with your ‘Warlord Identification’ badges! Don’t move! The snipers can smell fear!”
The sisters disappeared. The alley fell silent, except for the sound of a distant explosion and a Skag howling somewhere in the distance. Rhys adjusted his stinking poncho, feeling a sudden, cold breeze where his thermal-regulated vest used to be.
“They’re coming back, right?” Vaughn asked, his voice small. He tried to adjust his bucket-helmet, which immediately slipped down over his eyes. “I mean, we told them we know Jack. Nobody cons friends of Jack. That’s like... suicide.”
“They’re definitely coming back,” Rhys said, though a hollow feeling was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. He looked at his HUD. The girls had somehow managed to remotely lock his ECHO-eye into a 'Trial Version' that was currently playing a loud, unskippable advertisement for Marcus’s Gun Kiosk. “They seemed very professional, Vaughn. Very... local. This is just part of the immersion. We’re getting the authentic experience.”
A group of actual bandits wandered past the mouth of the alley. They stopped, looked at the two Hyperion drones dressed in garbage, and shared a look of profound confusion. One of them pointed at Vaughn’s toaster-chest and let out a wheezing laugh before they all kept walking, apparently deciding that whatever was happening wasn't worth the effort of a mugging.
“Rhys?” Vaughn whispered.
“Yeah, Vaughn?”
“I think I want to go back to the office. At least there, the people who rob you have HR departments.”
Rhys stared at the empty corner where the girls had vanished, his dignity slowly leaking out of his ill-fitting boots. He was a field agent now. A gritty, hardcore survivor of the Pandoran wilds. He just wished he hadn't lost his favorite stylus in the process.
“Give it another minute,” Rhys said, his voice trembling just a little. “They’re probably just getting the badges engraved.
…
…
“O-okay, so engraving probably takes a bit longer than a minute. Let’s give it another five…”
…
The air inside the Vault of the Sentinel didn’t taste like the recycled, metallic oxygen of Helios or the dusty, thin atmosphere of Elpis. It tasted like static and old secrets. Angel shifted her weight, the soles of her boots crunching on stone that looked like it had been carved from solidified starlight.
Around her, the architecture defied every law of physics she’d spent her life studying; pillars of obsidian-like rock floated in mid-air, held in place by a low, rhythmic hum that she could feel vibrating in her very teeth.
“Okay, I’m not saying I’m disappointed,” Gaige whispered, her mechanical arm whirring as she scanned a floating geometric structure. “But where are the mountains of gold? The ancient super-lasers? The... I don't know, pile of legendary loot that usually justifies the walking?”
“The loot is the knowledge, Gaige. Obviously.” Angel looked toward her father, who was practically skipping across the iridescent floor. He looked younger than she’d seen him in years, his usual corporate bravado replaced by the genuine, wide-eyed wonder of a kid in a candy store.
She felt a familiar tug of affection—and a less familiar prickle of dread. This was too easy. They hadn’t even needed a key. The massive, ornate doors had simply sensed their approach and ground open with a welcoming groan, as if the Vault had been waiting for Jack specifically.
“Angel, look at this!” Jack called out, gesturing toward the center of the chamber. There was no treasure chest. No monster. Just a raised dais and a throne carved from a single block of translucent, glowing crystal. “Zarpedon died trying to keep us away from a chair. A really, really cool chair, mind you, but still. All that fuss over a piece of furniture!”
“It’s not just furniture, Dad,” Angel said, her Siren senses tingling as she approached the dais. The data-streams in her mind were flickering, struggling to categorize the energy coming off the throne. It wasn’t just Eridian; it was... foundational. Like the source code of the galaxy was sitting right there, waiting for someone to hit ‘Enter.’ “It’s a conduit. Be careful.”
“Careful is my middle name! Well, actually it’s ‘Badass,’ but I’m flexible.” Jack laughed, stepping up the stairs toward the throne. He paused, his hand hovering over the crystalline armrest. “Think about it, Angel. Everything we’ve done—helping the Vault Hunters, stopping the Destroyer, fixing Pandora, Elpis, Helios—it’s all led here. This is where we stop being the guys who follow the map and start being the guys who make it.”
Just as his coattails brushed the seat, his ECHO-unit let out a sharp, piercing chirp. The sound was jarringly corporate in the midst of the ancient silence.
Jack groaned, rolling his eyes as he tapped his ear. “Ugh, seriously? I am literally seconds away from a destiny-defining moment. This better be a pizza delivery or a very high-quality prank call.”
“Jack.” The voice on the other end was cold, brittle, and dripping with the kind of smugness only a CEO could manage. It was Tassiter. Angel's stomach did a slow, sickening roll.
“Oh, hey, Tass-hole!” Jack’s voice shifted instantly into that sharp, mocking tone he reserved for people he intended to outlive. “You’re calling a bit late. I already saved the station, saved the moon, and—spoilers—I’m currently standing in the center of a literal miracle. Send my bonus to the usual account, yeah?”
“I’m not calling to congratulate you on your delusions of grandeur, Jack,” Tassiter snapped. “I’m calling to inform you that as of thirty seconds ago, your employment with Hyperion has been terminated. For cause. The Board has decided that your... erratic behavior on Elpis constitutes a liability we can no longer ignore.”
Angel looked at Roland and Lilith. Roland had his hand on his rifle, his expression darkening. Lilith stepped closer to Jack, her hand glowing with a faint violet light. They weren't just being fired; they were being erased.
“Terminated? Wow. Bold move for a guy who’s currently losing his hair,” Jack said, though his eyes narrowed. He didn't look scared; he looked insulted. “And let me guess, you’ve sent a ‘liquidation team’ to clean up the mess?”
“They’ve already arrived on Helios,” Tassiter said, his voice regaining its oily confidence. “Wilhelm and Nisha don't miss, Jack. By the time they’re done, there won't be enough of your little ‘inner circle’ left to fill a wastebasket. Goodbye, Jack. It’s been... well, it’s been a legal headache.”
Jack paused, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. He leaned back against the ancient throne, looking entirely too relaxed for a man whose life was being dismantled. “One small problem with your plan, Mr. CEO. You sent your top-tier assassins to the station. But I’m not on Helios.”
There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. Angel could almost hear Tassiter’s brain grinding to a halt as he processed the coordinates of the signal. “...shit,” the man finally whispered.
“Yeah. Shit. Enjoy the repair bill for my office, you fossil!” Jack tapped his ECHO-link shut with a flourish and a bark of laughter. He looked at them, his eyes sparkling with a manic, triumphant energy. “Did you hear that? He’s actually trying to fire me. The guy who just saved the company’s biggest asset! That’s it. No more playing nice. If they want a villain, I’ll show them a god.”
Before Angel could warn him—before she could even process the data spike screaming in the back of her mind—Jack turned and sat firmly onto the throne.
The reaction was instantaneous. A pillar of white-hot light erupted from the dais, engulfing him completely. The chamber roared, the floating rocks spinning in a dizzying, violent orbit. Angel shielded her eyes, feeling a wave of raw power wash over her that made her own Siren abilities feel like a guttering candle.
Through the glare, she saw him—her father, the man who’d raised her, the man who’d just lost his job—lifting off the seat.
His eyes weren't blue and green anymore. They were glowing with a fierce, blinding violet, reflecting the shifting symbols of a thousand stars and a million years of history. His mouth fell open in a silent gasp, his entire body tensing as the Vault poured its secrets directly into his skull.
“Dad!” Angel screamed, stepping forward, but the pressure of the energy pushed her back.
“HOLY SHIIIIT!!!” Jack’s voice boomed, echoing through the chamber with a resonance that sounded like thunder.
He wasn't screaming in pain; he was screaming in absolute, terrifying realization. He looked right at her, and for a split second, she didn't see her father. She saw a man who had just seen the end of the world, and the birth of a legend—all at once.
The glow intensified until the world went white, and the last thing Angel heard was the sound of a man laughing as he finally grabbed the universe by the throat.