Chapter 69: On Your Knees
The download was finally winding down, and honestly, it was a lot to process. My brain felt like a browser with too many tabs open, most of them showing star charts, ancient Eridian poetry, and what appeared to be the step-by-step assembly instructions for an eldritch bioweapon.
It was a lot of stuff I already knew—thank you, meta-knowledge—but seeing the actual technical specs for the Warrior was a nice touch. It was like having the owner’s manual for a nuclear-powered dinosaur. I could practically feel the power humming behind my eyelids, a golden glow that made everything in this dusty old Vault look like it was rendered in low-resolution.
“Well, I guess I’m a god now.” I said, opening my eyes and letting the golden light wash over the room. I adjusted my collar, waiting for the inevitable kneeling and worship.
“Nope.” Roland replied instantly, not even looking up from his rifle maintenance.
“Crikey, no.” Janey added, leaning against a pillar. “Did I mention I’m Australian?”
“Not a god.” Athena chimed in, her voice as flat and unyielding as her shield.
I narrowed my eyes at her, leaning into the role. “Yeah, you’re right. If I were a god, I would smite you all for your blasphemy.” I stood perfectly still, staring at her with what I hoped was an intimidating, divine intensity. I focused everything I had on her forehead, trying to trigger some kind of Eridian brain-pop.
“… are you trying to smite me?” Athena asked after a long, awkward silence.
“Yes.” I let out a heavy, dramatic sigh and dropped the pose. “But, I guess it’s true. I’m probably more like a prophet. Like Jesus. Oh! Maybe I am Jesus!”
“Honey. You’re not Jesus.” Lilith said, stepping toward me with that 'I love you but you’re being a moron' look she did so well.
“I’m totally Jesus! We both have so much in common!” I paced the length of the dais, gesturing wildly. “Like being persecuted for our beliefs, being betrayed, and not to mention our mutual love of wine and whores.”
Lilith stopped mid-stride, her eyebrows shooting up toward her hairline. “Are you calling me a whore?”
“… no.” I said quickly, my divine confidence wavering for a microsecond.
“It’s okay. I’ll forgive… but I won’t forget.” Lilith crossed her arms over her chest, the violet light in her eyes flickering with a dangerous amusement. “And for the record, you are not Jesus Christ.”
“Yes, I am! Okay, watch.” I turned toward the only member of the team who actually appreciated showmanship. “Claptrap! Pick a number between one and ten, don’t tell me which! Now add two. Add three. Add five. And now subtract your original number.”
Claptrap’s lens whirred as he crunched the numbers, his little metal arms flapping with excitement. “Done, oh Great and Prophet-y Master!”
“Is the number you have left ten?” I asked, throwing my arms out wide.
“How did you know?!” Claptrap shrieked, spinning his wheel in a circle. “It’s a miracle! I believe! Take me to the promised land of high-quality lubricants!”
“I am the Light!” I shouted, basking in the one percent of the room that actually believed me. It was a great bit, truly, and I could have kept it going for hours, but the golden static in the back of my mind was starting to sharpen into something a lot less fun.
Okay, that’s enough fucking around.
I could hear that digital clock ticking in the Hyperion mainframe back on Helios. Tassiter wasn't just a prick; he was a predictable prick. He’d be moving to purge my credentials, locking the doors, and probably deleting my high scores in the breakroom. If we didn't move now, I was going to lose more than just a job.
“Alright, jokes over. We need to go.” I said, my voice dropping the theatrical edge and sliding into the cold, calculated tone of a man who was about to lose his favorite toy. “Tassiter is a bureaucratic vulture. He’s definitely started the lockout procedures by now. If we don’t get back to Helios in, I dunno, probably ten minutes, he’s going to seize the H-Source backup I—in a rare moment of trusting-the-system idiocy—installed on the main server. He’ll take the warp drive, the research, and most importantly, he’ll take my chair.”
“Your chair?” Gaige asked, tilting her head. “The one with the lumbar support?”
“It is a high-performance ergonomic masterpiece, Gaige, and I will be damned if that liver-spotted fossil rests his bony ass on it!” I started toward the Fast Travel station, my mind already running through the sabotage codes. “We aren't going back to save the day this time. We’re going back to scuttle everything. We grab the goods, we grab the chair, and then we burn the whole thing down before Tassiter can turn my own station against me.”
And I swear if someone used my own staation against me for the third time, I was going to nuke the planet.”
“Move it, people!”
I didn't wait for an argument. I hit the Fast Travel coordinates for the Helios Command Center, feeling the familiar, nauseating tug of digitistruction.
Tassiter thought he could fire me?
He didn't even realize I was about to burn the whole company down.
…
Nisha leaned against the cold bulkhead of a Helios hallway, spinning her revolver with a rhythmic, bored flick of her wrist. Around her, the station smelled like scorched insulation and the metallic tang of blood—half of it from the Lost Legion zealots they’d been mopping up, and the other half from the poor Hyperion schmucks who hadn't gotten the memo about the change in management.
She watched a stray zealot crawl toward a doorway, his legs trailing behind him in a messy red smear. Normally, she’d spend a good ten minutes peeling him like a grape just to hear the high notes, but Tassiter’s schedule was a real buzzkill.
“Ugh. Can we go already?! Our target isn’t even here!” Nisha groaned, tilting her hat back to glare at the massive, hulking shape of Wilhelm.
Wilhelm didn't even look at her. He was busy stomping a soldier’s head into the floor, the sound of cracking bone echoing pleasantly through the corridor. “Boss wants us to clear the station, anyways.”
“This sucks! I’m not even getting to kill people the fun way, like skinning them piece-by-piece until they bleed out while their families watch!” Nisha kicked a piece of debris, her heels clicking sharply. “Can’t something interesting happen?”
As if the universe were finally taking requests, the Fast Travel station at the end of the hall flared to life with a violent, digitistruct hum. Nisha’s hand didn't even have to think; her revolvers were leveled before the light had even faded. But she didn't fire. She blinked, her thumb hovering over the hammer as the "target" stepped out of the shimmer.
Tassiter had given them a grainy corporate headshot of a guy who looked like a middle-management tool with a god complex. The man standing there now? He was something else entirely. He was radiating a terrifying, golden energy that made the air around him shimmer, his eyes glowing with a fierce, ethereal light that promised all sorts of bad decisions. He looked powerful, dangerous, and—Nisha bit her lip—way sexier than the photo.
“Listen to me, you beautiful, yellow trash-can!” Jack shouted, pointing a finger at a confused Loader Bot that was hovering near a group of Lost Legion stragglers. “I’m your god now! See the eyes? The eyes don't lie! Now, be a good little toaster and go hug those guys over there. Really tight. Like, explosive-decompression tight!”
The Loader Bot actually paused, its sensors flashing as it processed the command, before it let out a compliant beep and charged the zealots. The ensuing explosion showered the hallway in sparks and limbs. Jack laughed, a sharp, arrogant sound that made something in Nisha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline.
“Well, well,” Nisha purred, holstering one gun but keeping the other aimed loosely at Jack’s knees. She stepped out from the shadows, her hips swaying with deliberate intent. “You must be the legendary Jack. Tassiter said you were a liability, but he forgot to mention you were a snack.”
A red-headed woman with glowing amethyst wings suddenly flared into existence beside Jack, her expression shifting from tactical to murderous the second she saw Nisha’s smirk. “Jack, who is this bitch and why is she looking at you like you’re a buffet?”
“Lilith, honey, focus on the guys with the lasers!” Jack said, though he didn't look exactly displeased by the attention. He turned his glowing eyes toward Nisha, a smirk playing on his lips. “And you? You’ve got the look of someone who’s about to be very unemployed. Or dead. I’m leaning toward dead, but I’m open to negotiations if you drop the hardware.”
“I don't know, Cowboy,” Nisha said, firing a shot that whistled past Jack’s ear, intentionally clipping the helmet of a Lost Legion sniper who had been creeping up behind him. “I like a man who can handle a little heat. Though, looking at your girlfriend there, I’d say you’re already dealing with a serious fever.”
“That’s it!” Lilith screamed, her Siren wings snapping wide as she unleashed a wave of Phase-fire that vaporized a nearby mercenary. “I’m melting her face off!”
“Whoa, whoa! Jealousy is a green-eyed monster, babe, and yours are purple!” Jack yelled, diving behind a pillar as the hallway erupted into a chaotic, three-way bloodbath.
Nisha dove into cover, laughing as she traded shots with Lilith’s fireballs and the remnants of Zarpedon’s army. She knew she was supposed to be bringing Jack’s head to Tassiter, but the idea of following that old suit’s orders felt incredibly dull compared to the current view.
Jack was mocking his enemies, commanding his bots with a flick of his wrist, and looking like the king of the world while he did it. She wasn't ready to switch sides yet—she wanted to see him sweat first. She’d settle for doing it out here in the hallway, though her mind was already wandering to more creative locations.
A bed, desk, a convenient wall, the floor—she’d never been picky about where she did her best work.
“You’re cute when you’re angry, Red!” Nisha yelled over the roar of a grenade. “But Jack? You ever get tired of the 'good guy' act, come find me. I promise I’m a lot more fun than a Siren with a temper!”
“I am going to end you!” Lilith shrieked, her Phase-blast scorching the wall inches from Nisha’s head.
Jack popped up from cover, his eyes blazing gold as he redirected a stray missile with a flick of his hand. “Ladies! Please! There is enough Jack for everyone, but we really have a schedule to keep! Aloha!”
“Don’t you say hello to her!” The red-headed Siren growled.
“It also means goodbye!”
“Then you had better have meant that one! Move it!”
Nisha watched him move, her heart racing. Yeah, she was definitely on the wrong team. But for now, she was just going to enjoy the show.
…
Bullets chewed into the wall behind me, sending plaster and expensive Hyperion composite spraying into my hair. I ducked lower, feeling the golden hum of the Vault’s knowledge still rattling around my skull like a loose marble. My ears were ringing from Nisha’s gunfire and Lilith’s indignant shrieks, which, honestly, were starting to sound remarkably similar in pitch.
We were pinned down just outside the Research and Development wing, and the hallway was a total mess of blue sparks and dying zealots.
“Jack, I’m detecting a high-priority biological signature in the lab to your left.” Felicity’s voice chirped in my ear, calm as a summer breeze while I was busy trying not to get my head ventilated. “It’s a critical asset. If Tassiter’s mercenaries find him, they’ll either recruit him or liquidate him. Neither option is optimal for our future endeavors.”
“Critical asset, huh?” I muttered, peeking over the edge of a supply crate. I saw a mercenary’s head explode in a violet burst of Siren energy. Thanks, Lilith. “Fine. But if it’s another Claptrap, I’m letting it burn. I’ve had enough of the inorganic revolution for one lifetime.”
“It was ONE time!” The robot-Judas cried.
One time too many, Claptrap.
I signaled the team to lay down cover fire and dived through the sliding glass doors of the lab.
The room was sterile, white, and currently vibrating from the explosions outside. At first glance, it looked empty. Then I heard it—a sound like a wounded animal trying to whistle through a flute. It was coming from under a heavy mahogany desk in the corner. I strode over, kicking a stray rolling chair out of the way, and peered into the leg hole.
“Alright, Mr. Critical Asset, let’s go. Your ride is here and I’m—oh. Oh, no.” I stared down at the man curled into a ball, clutching a tablet to his chest like it was a holy relic.
Professor Nakayama looked exactly how I remembered from the game, only the reality of his sweat and the frantic, wide-eyed stare was a thousand times more unsettling in person. The second he saw me, his entire face transformed. The terror didn't vanish; it just got painted over by a layer of pure, unadulterated worship that made my skin crawl.
“It’s him! It’s really him!” Nakayama scrambled out from under the desk, nearly tripping over his own lab coat. He didn't run for the door; he ran for my feet. “The Prophet of the Moon! The Architect of Helios! Oh, Mr. Jack, sir, I knew you’d come for me! I’ve already started the preliminary data-indexing for the Great Archiving!”
“The what-now?” I stepped back, my hand instinctively moving toward my holstered pistol. This guy was a whole different kind of dangerous.
“Your greatness! It must be preserved!” Nakayama gesticulated wildly, his glasses sliding down his nose. “I’ve been drafting the blueprints for the Jack-Sequence! Imagine it, sir—an army of you! We’ll clone your perfection, archive your every witty remark, and create a legacy that lasts until the heat death of the universe! I’ve even saved some of your discarded espresso pods for the DNA samples!”
I stared at him in horrified silence. I’d been called a lot of things—badass, hero, boss, ‘that prick who ruined my life’—but ‘espresso-pod donor’ was a new low. The sheer, nauseating fanboy energy radiating off him was enough to make me want to jump out of the nearest airlock. I looked at the door, then back at the sweating, panting professor.
“Yeah, so, change of plans.” I tapped my comms. “Felicity, we’re leaving him. He’s not an asset. He’s a biological hazard to my mental health. I’m pretty sure if I let him keep talking, my IQ is going to drop into the negatives just out of pure spite.”
“Dad, be reasonable.” Angel’s voice cut in, sounding tired but firm. She was probably monitoring the whole thing from whatever terminal she was currently haunting. “He’s one of the top geneticists in the company. If Tassiter gets his hands on that research, he could do some real damage. Besides, it’s the right thing to do. We don't leave people behind to be murdered by corporate hit-squads.”
“He’s got espresso pods, Angel!” I hissed, watching Nakayama try to discreetly sniff the air near my shoulder. “He’s a creep! A high-tier, professional-grade weirdo!”
“He is a living being, Jack.” Felicity added, her logic circuits clearly siding with my daughter. “And his knowledge of bio-organic integration could be vital for the H-Source interface. Please. Just... put him in a sturdy box if you have to.”
I looked at Nakayama. He was currently staring at my glowing eyes with a look of rapture that made me want to go blind. I let out a long, suffering groan that came from the very depths of my soul.
“Fine! Fine, he stays. But he stays ten feet away from me at all times.” I grabbed Nakayama by the scruff of his lab coat and hauled him toward the door. “Listen up, glasses. You’re coming with us. You speak only when spoken to, you don't touch anything, and if I see you near a DNA swabbing kit, I will personally moonshot you into the sun. Got it?”
“Yes, sir! Absolutely, sir! Your mercy is as boundless as your charisma!” Nakayama squealed, tripping over his feet as I dragged him into the chaos of the hallway.
Lilith glanced over as we emerged, her eyes widening as she saw the frantic scientist trailing behind me like a lost puppy. “What the hell is that?”
“A mistake.” I grumbled, shoving Nakayama toward the middle of our formation. “Don't look it in the eye, Lil. It only encourages him.”
…
They burst through the doors, without a moment to lose, sealing door after door behind them, as countless robots gave their… lives? All to buy them more time to get what they needed.
And as she stepped into the office, she noticed… not a lot’s changed.
The air in the executive office still smelled like Jack’s expensive cologne, a welcome relief from the carnage in the hallways. Lilith watched as Jack practically vaulted over his desk, collapsing into his golden swivel chair with a sigh of pure, unadulterated relief.
He kicked his feet up, the golden glow in his eyes reflecting off the massive viewing window that looked out over the curve of Pandora.
“Oh, man. I’m not usually the sentimental type, but I really missed this view. Can’t believe it’s the last time I’m going to see it…” Jack leaned back, spinning the chair once with a grin that looked far too boyish for a man currently orchestrating a planetary heist.
Lilith felt a surprising tug of nostalgia herself. She walked over, her boots clicking on the polished floor, and let her hand trail lovingly across the armrest. The leather was cool under her touch.
“I’m gonna miss it too, honestly.” She leaned in closer to his ear, her voice dropping to a mischievous purr that carried across the quiet room. “I’m pretty sure this is the chair where we conceived our little bastard love child.”
Feel free to put a ring on it anytime, by the way
The reaction from the room was instantaneous and wonderfully disgusting. Roland’s jaw tightened as he stared intensely at a ceiling tile, while Athena practically turned into a stone statue of stoic disapproval.
“Lalalalala! I can’t hear you! I am a child and I have ears!” Gaige shrieked, clamping her hands over her ears as she and Janey began unbolting the Warp Drive housing from the floor.
“Oh,” Lilith smirked, her pride flaring as she looked around at the rest of the crew. “That reminds me! Fair warning for everyone else: if you don’t want to be anywhere we had sex, avoid the desk, the display case, that wall, that wall, the door, the ceiling, and um… am I forgetting anything?”
“Do we really have to be here?” Roland groaned as shuffled his feet on the floor.
Oh, yeah!
“The floor!” She snapped her fingers. “Knew I was forgetting something.”
“Connection… lost… static… can’t… hear… anything…” Angel’s voice crackled over the comms, a blatant lie that fooled absolutely no one. But it was adorable that she tried.
Claptrap just tilted his head, looking back and forth between the furniture with a confused whir of his lens, but Nakayama—that creepy little professor they’d just rescued—was scribbling furiously on a tablet with a look of intense, clinical fascination.
Lilith made a mental note to incinerate that tablet later.
Jack, however, had already shifted back into work mode. He didn't even look at the keys as his fingers danced across the holographic interface with terrifying, supernatural speed. It was like he wasn't just typing; he was talking directly to the station.
He was pulling everything—H-Source backups, AI blueprints, navigational archives—sucking the station’s brain dry while the robots he’d brought along began physically unbolting his furniture.
The heavy thud of the office doors being kicked open shattered the moment. Lilith spun around, her hands igniting with violet fire, as Wilhelm and that slut Nisha stepped into the room. Nisha was lounging against the doorframe, adjusting her tiny cowgirl hat and looking far too comfortable in those sexy boots.
“Well, look at this,” Nisha drawled, her revolver spinning around her finger before she leveled it toward the desk. “The gang’s all here. And the man of the hour himself, Handsome fucking Jack. Still got those big, glowing balls.” She winked, clearly nodding toward the golden light still humming in Jack’s eyes.
The jealousy hit Lilith like a physical weight, hot and sharp. She didn't think; she just reacted. “He’s taken, cowgirl! Pick a different target before I burn that hat into your scalp!” Lilith unleashed a Phase-blast that sent two of Tassiter’s mercenaries flying back into the hallway, their armor melting before they even hit the ground.
She stayed positioned right in front of Jack, a living shield of Siren energy. When Nisha made another suggestive comment about how the 'golden light' probably looked in the dark, Lilith growled and flexed her will. The structural supports in the ceiling groaned and snapped, dropping a three-ton slab of reinforced plating right between them, narrowly missing Nisha’s toes but successfully cutting off her line of sight to Jack.
The office had devolved into an absolute circus.
While Lilith traded fire and insults with the intruders, Jack’s Loaders were lugging the massive command chair toward the evacuation point, and Gaige was shouting instructions as the Warp Drive assembly was dragged across the carpet. It wasn't a tactical retreat anymore; it was a high-stakes yard sale in the middle of a war zone.
“Hurry it up!” Lilith yelled over her shoulder, tossing a fireball at a mercenary trying to flank the desk. “I can only hold off the ‘Home-Wrecker Brigade’ for so long!”
“Almost… there!” Jack shouted back, hitting one final key with a flourish. “Nav archives secured! Warp drive moving! Get ready to run, assholes! We’re done here!”
…
The golden hum in my skull was transitioning from an enlightened vibration to a full-blown migraine. Between the Siren-on-Mercenary screeching match and the sound of my expensive office floor being unceremoniously ripped apart by Loader bots, I could barely hear myself think.
It was a beautiful, chaotic mess, exactly the kind of exit I’d envisioned—until the wall-sized monitors flickered from the starfield to the sagging, liver-spotted face of Harold Tassiter.
“John, stop this petulant display at once.” Tassiter’s voice boomed through the office speakers, dripping with that condescending corporate tone that always made me want to reach through the screen and throttle him. “You’ve already cost this company billions with your little excursions. You aren't going anywhere. I’ve remotely engaged the orbital stabilizers and locked the thruster array. The station stays exactly where it is. If you attempt to leave, I’ll have Wilhelm ventilate your lungs. You’re staying in that office until a proper board-sanctioned retrieval team arrives to fix your mess.”
I let out a long, weary groan, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of a computer terminal. I really couldn't afford to let this happen. This was the third time in as many months that someone had tried to turn my own station into my prison.
I’d hoped that snatching the Warp Drive would be enough to make the station useless to him, but Harold was a stubborn old goat. If he kept Helios in a stable orbit, he’d just fly in a fresh batch of goons, rebuild the Eye, and start the whole 'Interplanetary Dictator' routine without the style or the vision I brought to the table.
“Jack? What’s he talking about? Locked orbit?” Lilith asked, pausing her fire-shoveling at Nisha to glance at the monitors. Her brow was furrowed, her violet wings twitching with the urge to just Phase-blast the screen.
“It means the old man is trying to play keep-away.” I said, straightening my jacket and looking at the crew. I could feel the clock ticking. Tassiter’s 'retrieval team' was probably already in the bays. “He’s locked the controls. The only way to stop him from using this place as a high-altitude sniper nest is to take the choice out of his hands. I have to go to the core.”
“The core? Jack, the station is crawling with Lost Legion and Hyperion mercs!” Gaige yelled, gesturing wildly with a wrench as she helped a Loader hoist my golden chair toward the door. “And that crazy cowgirl is right outside! You’ll get turned into Swiss cheese!”
“Relax, I’ve got a bulletproof plan.” I lied. My plan was currently about three seconds long and involved a lot of property damage. I turned to Lilith, grabbing her shoulders and looking into those beautiful, glowing eyes. “Lil, listen to me. Take everyone. Gaige, Angel, even the creepy professor. Get to the escape pods. Take the chair, take the drive, and get the hell off this death trap.”
No offense to Deathtrap.
“I’ll meet you on the surface.”
“No way! I’m not leaving you here to play hero!” Lilith shouted, her hands sparking. She looked ready to Phase-walk me straight to the pods, pregnant or not.
“It’s not playing hero, it’s being pragmatic! I’m the only one with the override codes to get into the primary core chamber.” I gave her my most charming, trust me grin, the one that usually got me into trouble or out of it. “Besides, if I don't go, Tassiter wins. You want that old fossil winning? Because I don't. Now go! Get to safety! Please!”
I didn't wait for her to argue. I shoved the group toward the back service lift, giving Nakayama a particularly firm kick to get him moving when he started trying to record my 'heroic final words.' Roland gave me a curt, respectful nod—he knew a tactical necessity when he saw one—and Athena just looked at me with that unreadable, stony expression that I chose to interpret as 'don't die, you idiot.'
As the lift doors hissed shut, I was alone in the office. Well, except for the sounds of Wilhelm punching his way through my reinforced walls. I turned and ran.
I didn't use the halls. I used the ventilation shafts and maintenance tunnels, guided by the mental blueprints I knew by heart, after spending God knows how much time (and money) designing this station. I reached the core chamber in record time, skidding across the catwalk as the massive, pulsating heart of Helios hummed before me.
“Sorry, baby.” I whispered, looking at the flickering blue lights of the core. “It’s not you, it’s the management.”
I didn't bother with the console.
Tassiter had the software locked down tight. But software didn't mean a damn thing when faced with a localized nuclear meltdown. I raised my arms, the wrist-mounted lasers whining as they drew power directly from my own augmented shielding. The golden light from the Vault seemed to flow down my sleeves, merging with the Hyperion tech.
“Too good for this world! Any world!” I yelled, and I let loose.
Twin beams of concentrated, golden-tinged plasma lanced out, carving deep, jagged wounds into the core’s cooling shroud. Alarms began to scream—not the polite, corporate 'please exit the building' alarms, but the 'we are all about to become stardust' sirens.
The floor groaned beneath me as the station’s artificial gravity began to wobble. I didn't stop. I poured every ounce of energy I had into the lasers, melting the primary stabilizers and slagging the thruster relays.
The station tilted sharply to the left. I heard the screech of twisting metal as Helios began to lose its battle with gravity. Tassiter’s face appeared on a small emergency terminal nearby, his expression shifting from smug to horrified.
“John! What have you done?! You’ve destroyed the most expensive piece of hardware in the galaxy! You’re—"
“I’m quitting, Harold!” I shouted over the roar of the venting plasma. “And I’m keeping my severance package!”
I punched the terminal, shattering the screen, and turned to run.
The core was beginning to vent pure radiation, a beautiful, deadly blue fog that licked at my heels. I knew the escape pods were already gone—I’d seen the launch signatures on my HUD. I had exactly one way off this falling star, and it involved a very large, very dangerous piece of machinery.
I sprinted toward the Moonshot bay, my lungs burning as the air grew thin. The station was shaking violently now, pieces of the outer hull shearing off as it hit the upper reaches of the atmosphere. I reached the primary cannon, the massive rail-gun meant to fire projectiles and supplies down to the surface.
It was never intended for human transport. It was basically a giant, metal middle-finger pointed at the planet. And this made it the second time I was using it for something other than its intended use.
I scrambled into one of the empty supply canisters, pulling the heavy lid shut and welding it from the inside with a quick burst from my wrist-laser. I could feel the cannon’s magnets humming, the vibration rattling my teeth. Outside, Helios was breaking apart, a billion-dollar funeral pyre.
“Okay, Jack. Don't throw up. Heroes don't throw up.” I muttered to myself in the dark, cramped space.
I hit the manual launch trigger. There was a split second of silence, a sudden, crushing weight as the G-forces slammed me into the back of the canister, and then—light. Absolute, blinding light as I was spat out of the cannon and into the open sky. Behind me, Helios was a streak of orange and gold, a falling star that marked the end of my corporate career and the beginning of something much, much louder.
I was falling toward Pandora at terminal velocity, trapped in a metal box, with no parachute and a pregnant Siren waiting for me. I started to laugh. It was a manic, terrified sound that echoed off the walls of the canister.
“Best. Resignation. Ever.”
…
The wind howled across the dusty outskirts of Sanctuary, whipping Rhys’s meticulously styled hair into a frantic mess. He didn't care. He just kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, his cybernetic eye scanning for a glimpse of a certain pair of sisters who had, quite frankly, ruined his life in the most cavalier way possible.
Vaughn sat on a rusted crate beside him, his shirt-front open to the elements, looking like a man who had accepted his fate as a wasteland wanderer but still missed the feel of a good spreadsheet. They had been standing there for what felt like hours, or maybe days—time was a bit of a fluid concept when you were waiting for people who had a habit of disappearing.
“Rhys?” Vaughn asked, his voice barely a whisper over the desert gale.
“Yeah, bro?” Rhys replied, not moving an inch.
“I don’t think they’re coming back, bro.” Vaughn’s shoulders slumped, the realization finally settling in over the sound of shifting sand.
Rhys let out a long, shaky breath, his metallic hand twitching at his side. “I know, bro… I know.”
The silence that followed was heavy with the shared grief of two middle-managers lost in a world that didn't value a good PowerPoint. It was a poignant, cinematic moment of brotherhood—right up until the sky decided to scream.
A high-pitched, mechanical shriek tore through the air, followed by a shadow that blotted out the sun. Rhys only had enough time to see a streak of white-hot metal plummeting toward them before his corporate survival instincts kicked in.
“RUN!” Rhys yelled, diving headlong into a pile of scrap metal.
Vaughn scrambled after him, his glasses nearly flying off his face as they both hit the dirt. A split second later, the ground bucked like a dying skag. The impact was deafening—a bone-jarring thud that sent a wall of sand and heat washing over them.
Rhys coughed, waving the dust away from his face as he sat up. Standing only three feet from where they had been moping was a blackened, smoking Hyperion supply canister, buried waist-deep in the Pandoran soil. The metal was still glowing cherry-red in spots, hissing as it cooled.
Slowly, the reinforced lid of the canister groaned. With a violent bang, it flew off its hinges, skipping across the sand like a discarded bottle cap. A cloud of cooling vapor rolled out, and through the mist, a gloved hand reached out to grab the rim.
Jack stepped out of the wreckage, looking remarkably put-together for a man who had just been shot out of a space-cannon. He adjusted his sleeves, flicked a bit of soot off his shoulder, and turned his glowing, golden gaze toward the two trembling accountants in the dirt.
“I’m back, baby.” Jack said, his smirk wide and dangerous.
Rhys stared up at him, his jaw hanging open. “Jack?”
“Rhys! Vaughn!” Jack beamed, as if he’d just bumped into them at the water cooler instead of nearly crushing them with his body. “Glad you guys made it. Quick question—did my chair make it down yet? Because I’ve got some serious emails to send, and I’d really like to be comfortable when I start the revolution.”