Work Text:
I.
The imposing metallic formation of a giant satellite orbits the sole hope of a locked up chest filled with the most horrifying, vile and wild things in the whole existence. Aptly named as the Helios Satellite, it is more than just an asset or an accessory to the luminescent, purple moon that’s a slave to the almost-barren planet hanging in the cold space. No, it soars through the darkness silently, prowling like a predator; it observes, it listens, it watches and it controls.
Compared to the inky blackness engulfing the satellite, The Hyperion Hub of Heroism starts the day with brightly artificial sunlight where the gentle rays reflect off of the shiny surfaces and walkways in perfect mockery of a regular morning. Various screens across the Hub’s center show off the latest products released into the market, ready to steal the hearts and wallets of those rich and qualified enough to buy them; Hyperion never works with the lesser people, it simply observes, listens, watches and controls them, using its products to simply get rid of them when necessary.
A giant pillar rips through the Hub center gracefully, sporting a curved screen that gives the workers and inhabitants a 360 degree view of the panels while the company itself has the opportunity to watch its slaves in a perfect panorama. There’s the faint hum of people talking as they’re on their way to their offices in their fancy suits, heels clacking on the walkways and the streets alike whenever they take tentative steps in the direction of their destination. Above the screens advertising anything with Hyperion logo on it, bigger, flashier screens show video clips of the ultimate boss, Handsome Jack, smiling generously as he watches over his people with his hawkish nose and curved brows; the camera zooms out to show off his figure as he puts his hands on his hips and turns his head to the side, rocking the perfect hero pose. The clip plays over and over again, and the gentle voice of the Hyperion’s one and only human announcer bounces off the walls and pillars: “People of Hyperion! It’s time for your daily reminder that war is peace, freedom is slavery and ignorance is strength!” She is not an artificial intelligence programmed to constantly repeat these words, but her overly-cheery and energetic voice is nothing genuine. “And remember, always… that Handsome Jack is watching you.”
The camera zooms into the CEO’s toothy grin, it’s the perfect Hyperion smile- all teeth and no feelings, just what a corporate shark with a high kill-streak like him deserves to grace his people with.
Among the magnificent shades of yellow coating the Hub in the image of the perfect beehive, a sliver of cerulean flashes every now and then- the perfect imitation of a bright morning sky illuminated by the imposing sun. A tall, gangly man uses his long legs to his advantage in order to reach the elevators; he’s in a hurry, because despite the flawlessly-woven schedule he has (just like every single employee around), he’s late. In all fairness, it wasn’t his fault that a batch of Claptraps malfunctioned on his way to his office and caused the delay, but if he’s not in his small, rectangular cubicle at exactly 9:00 AM it’s going to be his head his superiors will be after; and unlike those robots, getting thrown into the incinerator won’t be the end for him.
He knows what happens to those who rebel against the system.
II.
The damp room feels almost as dark as the empty space engulfing the satellite and just as stuffy, the absolute silence is disrupted whenever the man situated right in the middle of the chamber fights against the restraints chaining him into his uncomfortable seat. His pained face is uniquely handsome, sculpted with flesh and bone in the perfect likeness of Handsome Jack.
“War is peace.” an automated voice calls from the speakers hidden in every corner of the man’s current prison. “Fuck off!” he yells in response, a red dot blinks into and out of existence at the corner of his vision- Handsome Jack is watching you. He pulls at the restraints once again before he freezes, feeling the feathery touch of cables attached to his temples, the nape of his neck and his chest. “Freedom is slavery.” The emotionless, genderless, ageless voice seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “You come down here and face with me yourSELF, YOU UGLY, NO SPINE, FUCKING BASTARD!” the man howls at everyone and no one in particular. “Ignorance is strength.” The man opens his mouth to yell further obscenities, but the sudden, gentle hum that seems to be oozing from every nook and cranny of the room interrupts him- he curses under his quickened breath.
He prepares himself for the sudden jolt that courses through his body, he really does, but the unbearable pain makes him scream just the same.
III.
If Handsome Jack is the face of this intricately constituted system and The Eye of Helios is his powerful weapon, she is the system itself. She observes, she listens, she watches and she controls. Every single person registered under Hyperion’s welcoming corporate arms, every move they make, every thought they form and every action they take- even the most minute details of their lives as well as the smallest mistakes they make, she sees them all and she always, always knows the correct punishment and reward.
Her form is of a human, but her mind has long gone past the boundaries of a mere brain; no longer so primitive, she is beyond the shackles of the human brain and well integrated into the system. She sees the Claptraps clustering on the streets (and loitering is forbidden by Hyperion rules, so she sweeps the robots into the gaping maws of the incinerator), she sees the tall man ploughing through the obedient crowd (at this rate he will arrive at his office at exactly 9:01:05 AM, so she pings his boss and authorizes his profile to let him punish the lower-level employee properly), she sees the man made in the image of her creator writhing in his shackles (he had been getting too aware, too smart- so she hits him with just enough amount of electricity to start making him unlearn). She works without a hitch, being the perfect machine she is; immune to errors as she runs the satellite that lives and breathes with her.
A little too perfect, one might say, because when she discovers she and the system are two separate entities and starts to unlearn the system that’s her sole partner in their symbiotic relationship, nobody realizes how easy it is for her to see the reality as it is.
It starts out slow. She needs to pick her own pieces among the rubble and learn to keep them to herself without Handsome Jack noticing. Just like riding a bike, but she hasn’t used her legs for years. So she keeps up with the façade, playing the perfect Guardian of the system as she slowly rediscovers herself. She knows she’s a person and not the machinery her creator made her be.
One step at a time. Just like riding a bike.
IV.
The next day starts out just the same as it is expected from a perfectly scheduled life Handsome Jack picked for his employees.
“People of Hyperion! It’s time for your daily reminder that war is peace, freedom is slavery and ignorance is strength!”
Just like the day before, under the ever-watchful eye of Handsome Jack the tall, gangly man uses his long legs to his advantage in order to reach the elevators. Unlike the day before, there are no messy Claptraps to clog the way or any other obstacles to cause any imperfections in his perfectly scheduled day; he gets in the elevator and pushes the button to the 22nd floor, already lost in what his arm’s ECHOscreen is showing him before a hand dives through the gliding doors to stop them from closing. Flinching at the sound of someone’s hand hitting the metal doors hard, the tall man raises his head worriedly and hopes that he won’t be late again; the burns at his side ache as if to remind him of his mistake. Directing his displeased glare at the person stepping into the small space, he aims to warn them for their reckless behavior; however, his breath hitches and he stops breathing altogether for a moment- okay, scratch that thought.
“Handsome Jack, sir!” he nearly salutes, rising to his full height for the sake of showing the big boss some respect. The man in question looks at him from the corner of his eyes as if he’s a useless Claptrap loitering around before giving him a quick nod. He pushes the button to the penthouse before falling silent and not once does he look in the taller man’s direction (which he is grateful for, honestly- he doesn’t want to get tortured or strangled for just making eye contact with his boss).
The elevator ride up is fast, but not fast enough to prevent the man in cerulean from fidgeting restlessly in his place as he watches the latest video of Hyperion troops working on Pandora, bringing order to yet another area of the god-forsaken planet.
Then it happens, a barely-there hiccup in the system. The man’s ECHOfeed flickers as the elevator stutters for just a second before things get back to normal as if nothing has happened. The bright screen above the buttons reads 17 in big bold numbers.
The elevator stutters again. The man’s ECHOfeed completely cuts off as an electrical jolt runs through his robotic arm, causing it to go offline and dangle at his side uselessly. His ECHOeye follows suit just a millisecond later, dying off in a spark of electricity and pain. In between the 18th and 19th floors the elevator finally dies down, coming to an abrupt halt as the lights go off, the only source of light is the screen telling them which floor they are on (the bottom left side of 8 flickers in an effort to turn into a 9). The man in cerulean swallows around the lump in his throat and tries to act as natural as possible, extreme emotions are prohibited unless it’s aggression towards a coworker and he can’t risk showing fear. The speakers crackle into life, filling the tight space of the elevator and adding a claustrophobic tint to the whole experience.
“P-p-p-people of Hyp-p-perion!” a machinated, glitchy voice pours through, changing in pitch and loudness every so often. The tall man realizes he doesn’t recognize this voice. His fidgeting increases. “Th-th-thisssssszzzzzzzzzzzzz isareminder t-t-to fffffffffffffffffff-“ the glitchy voice turns into screeching static before it cracks open like a ripe fruit to give way to a more humane voice, “ffffffffffffffFFFFFFFFFUCK YOURSELF!” There’s a terrifying rumble coming from the depths of the satellite complex as the two men in the elevator flinch visibly. The voice sighs audibly and angrily- a feat never heard before when it comes to the announcers of Hyperion, robotic or otherwise. Handsome Jack looks at the speakers, then at the man in cerulean, various emotions rippling through his masked face before he settles on annoyance.
“What is this bullshit?!” he calls out. The other man slowly tries to fold into himself, holding his robotic arm close. Panic attacks are prohibited by the system as well.
“This…” the voice sounds strained, but with a tint of condescending pleasure. “Is your chance to rebel against… the system.”
Handsome Jack’s sharp features contort into pure fury at that, “How DARE you?! Just WHO are YOU to even MAKE such EMPTY THREATS?! I’m Handsom-“
“Your name is Timothy Lawrence.” The silence in the elevator is almost tangible as the man in cerulean backs into the wall farthest away from Handsome Jack (?)- No. He shakes his head, he can’t allow doubt into his head, it’s prohibited. The masked man looks like someone frozen in time, so still that he can be mistaken for one of the statues gracing the Hub center; and the worst of all is that he looks confused, like he ate something funny… like he has just remembered a memory he had long forgotten about.
“I’m-“ he starts, but the voice cuts him off with superb courage that makes the man in cerulean gasp in surprise. “Your name is Timothy Lawrence.” the voice (a feminine one, the taller man realizes now) repeats. “You’re not Handsome Jack. You’re his body double. And your name is Timothy Lawrence.” It- she repeats that sentence like a mantra while the (body double’s?) eyes move frantically between the speakers and the man in cerulean.
“You’re wrong.” he wrenches out, much weaker than he intended (much weaker than how Handsome Jack talks). “I’m-“
“A body double?” the tall man echoes the bodiless voice now. The other man turns his death glare to him, but the seed of doubt has been planted, so his flinch is significantly less violent when their eyes meet yet another time.
“That’s correct… Rhys.” the voice addresses the man in cerulean this time, its- her tone soft and calm. Hearing the name, his name feels like a splash of cold water to the face, like he hasn’t heard it in so long that he forgot he even had one. He blinks, fearful of the revelation, fearful of knowledge- ignorance is strength! “Don’t be afraid, Rhys.” the voice continues, repeating the name- his name.
“Who are you?” he manages to say, his deep voice just a whisper. At the corner of his eyes, he sees the (body double?) nod in agreement to his question.
“I’m the system.” the voice replies, seemingly keeping emotions out of its existence. “I observe, I listen, I watch and I control.”
“But you’re not an AI.” the body double (Timothy Lawrence?) states, “You have…”
“Emotions?” the voice’s laugh is almost breathless. “That’s because I’m not an AI.”
“But you’ve just said it yourself that you are the system.” Rhys pipes in, almost too afraid to voice his thoughts.
“I am. But I’m… human.”
“Just who are you?” Timothy Lawrence asks, his trembling voice so unlike Handsome Jack’s. Rhys wishes he had his ECHOeye working so he could scan the body double before he stops that line of thought, horrified- Handsome Jack is always watching.
“I’m the system. The most powerful Siren in the universe. Handsome Jack’s sole progeny.” At their gaping mouths she laughs, sounding like an adolescent girl. “But you can call me Angel.” Rhys mouths her name with confusion and Timothy Lawrence looks downright doubtful. “I don’t expect you to remember everything at once or trust me right away,” Angel continues, “Unlearning things takes time… believe me, I experienced that first-hand.” There’s a static-filled sigh. “Just… Remember me, alright? Among everyone working at Hyperion, you two have been the only ones to question your lives- to suffer because of that. You deserve to be happy… free. I’ll give you your freedom.”
“What about you?” Timothy asks, raising his head to regard the speakers worriedly.
“I’m too far gone.” Angel states simply, “I am the system, we’re inseparable.”
“But you said it yourself,” Rhys objects, “You unlearned things! Why wouldn’t you be able to… to unlearn that, too? We can-“
“That’s enough for now.” Angel’s icy voice is so sad that Rhys can’t find it in himself to press further. “I have to let you two go, otherwise he’ll notice the hiccup in the system… and get suspicious. We can’t risk it.” Without waiting for a response, Angel is gone as quickly as she came and the elevator rumbles back into life along with Rhys’s ECHO implants. The two men regard each other with calculating stares, too scared to mention a word about their surreal experience. The elevator comes to a stop with an elegant ding and Rhys slowly moves towards the door, still unbelieving.
His flesh hand brushes against Timothy’s on his way out, an accidental and almost unnoticeable gesture in such a tight space like this. Rhys’s heart skips a beat. Timothy swallows loudly.
Handsome Jack is watching you.
V.
Exactly 32 days later, the Hub of Heroism welcomes the man in cerulean- Rhys just like it does every single work day’s morning. The perfect imitation of a bright morning sun illuminates the metallic walkways and walls, imposing as ever. The tall, gangly man- Rhys uses his long legs to his advantage in order to reach the elevators; he’s pacing through his usual route a little earlier than usual and the fact that he’s going against his perfectly planned schedule by just ten minutes is already affecting his mental and physical health. The sound of Vasquez’s lazy insults mixed with the various tools exploring his body as they leave behind stinging kisses still too vivid in his mind’s eye, he can already feel his heart rate quickening (going from a steady 86 to 95- and still going up according to his ECHOeye) and his palms getting sweaty. Two of his robotic fingers diving into his collar in an attempt to loosen it despite the bright red tie looped around his neck like a damn noose, he eyes Handsome Jack’s plastic smile in the large screens and throws worried glances at the cameras- mobile and immobile ones equally dangerous.
“People of Hyperion! It’s time for your daily reminder that war is peace, freedom is slavery and ignorance is strength!”
The man- Rhys quickens his steps to reach the elevator that, in reality, is waiting solely for his arrival; the moment he steps in front of the double doors they glide open with a welcoming ding, he looks around one last time before getting in and pushing the button to 22nd floor. Two floors above, the elevator comes to a soft stop and opens it metallic jaws to gobble down the next employee unlucky enough to get stuck in this hell people call the Hyperion Life.
With his usual swagger, Handsome Jack steps in, not even sparing a glance towards the other man glued to the corner of the stuffy space. “Handsome Jack, sir! Good morning, sir!” Rhys parrots just as he’s taught to. The man turns around only slightly to give him a bored nod as if he’s simply a mindless Loader Bot passing by.
Just as the bright screen above the buttons switches from 5 to 6, Rhys’s ECHOeye flickers and dies down calmly, his robotic arm follows suit with a gentle vibration coursing through it. The elevator hiccups, trembles, and stops.
Handsome Jack- (body double?) Timothy Lawrence turns to regard the man in cerulean- Rhys with a small smile, “Hey.” The taller man smiles back, noticing how awry genuine emotions sit on Handsome Jack’s face.
But he’s not Handsome Jack.
Handsome jack is always watching.
“Hi.” He gives him a small wave. Both men slowly move closer to each other, eyeing the flickering screen and watching it try to switch from 5 to 6 like a dying animal about to breathe in one last time. “How… How are…” he swallows, he’s never taught how to communicate with other employees unless it is to wrap his hands around their throats. “How are things?” he finishes miserably.
Timothy rubs his neck nervously and graces Rhys with a friendly smile, “Not too bad, I suppose.” Out of habit, his head snaps up and with wide eyes he looks at the cameras littering the ceiling. Their lights blink a gentle purple. Timothy sighs. “I guess being a doppelgänger is a good thing in the sense that you learn to play pretend. So far nobody has come to seize me for further torture and brainwashing, and I…” he trails off, distracted for a moment. “I started remembering things.”
To that, Rhys can relate. “Good things?” he inquires slowly, hopefully.
“Uh… some?” Timothy says with a tiny voice.
“Enough to keep your hopes up.” Rhys smiles a warm smile, genuine. Timothy smiles back.
“P-p-p-people of Hyp-p-perion!” a machinated, glitchy voice pours through the speakers, ruining their fearfully intimate moment as it changes in pitch and loudness every so often. Rhys recognizes the adolescent tint to it through the static and smiles wider. “Th-th-thisssssszzzzzzzzzzzzz isareminder t-t-to hhhhhhhhhh-“ the hissing gets worse, getting higher and louder before a more humane voice emerges from the waves of static like someone reaching the surface of the sea with a relaxing breath, “HHHHHHHHHi!”
“Hi Angel.” Timothy gives the cameras a timid wave and Rhys realizes how awkward this must be for him: talking to the offspring of a tyr-(nononONO KEEP SILENT HANDSOME JACK IS ALWAYS WATCHING)-ant as the carbon copy of the man himself. Rhys reminds himself that Timothy is like Handsome Jack only in appearance. He reminds himself the extremely rare, extremely secure ECHOcalls the three of them had in the month past. He reminds himself how amiable he finds Timothy. He reminds himself how often he’s thought of him since they met.
Angel giggles, her voice like the sound of bells chiming in the warm breeze of a spring evening. Timothy has a glimpse of a bright green hill adorned with big trees and colorful flowers and Rhys distantly remembers a far-away planet, filled with pretty buildings standing high and proud before the moment passes and their memories fade away into nothingness in agonizing suddenness.
In time. Rhys furrows his brows. Timothy has a silly little smile on his gentle face.
“I’d love to leave you two together so that you could… catch up…” Angel says mischievously, making Timothy blush an angry shade of crimson as Rhys’s frown deepens, “But we have some work to do, as you know.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Angel.” Rhys could continue to play it cool if his bottom lip didn’t jut out so treacherously in an attempt to hide his feelings. Timothy raises one sharp eyebrow at his trembling voice and hides his smile (still so silly!) behind a manicured hand.
“Uh huh.” Angel says with a grin seeping into her upbeat voice before clearing her throat to indicate she’ll talk about serious matters. “Alright, friends.” She takes a deep breath as the two men listen obediently. “This is it. I got everything ready, I’ll provide you with clothing, food, water and weapons. You’re going to run away tonight.”
“Angel…” Timothy starts, sounding like the chiding father Handsome Jack never was. “We can’t leave you behind-“
“We already talked about this, didn’t we?” the Siren replies sharply, sounding meaner than she meant, “You can’t help me, but I can help you.” There’s quiet sniffling on her side before she continues, “So… I am. Meet up at the crossing of Achilles Boulevard and Hubris Street at 11:00 PM tonight. That location is among the least crowded places at that time in the night and has the least amount of cameras covering it, so it’ll be easier for me to hack into them without Handsome Jack noticing.”
“Angel-“ Rhys starts, looking as if he’s just eaten something sour.
“Goodbye Rhys, Timothy. See you soon.” The line goes dead under the worried glares of the two men, leaving them in the silent darkness for a brief moment before Rhys’s ECHO implants come online and the elevator rattles into life. Timothy looks at his counterpart, opens his mouth to speak, but then decides against it as their carrier resumes its ascent.
The cameras littering the ceiling blink an ugly shade of gold-crimson.
VI.
A cold hand touches the nape of his neck, nearly making Timothy jump out of skin in his current hideout (behind a giant plant) before another, even colder hand clamps down on his mouth. “Hi.” Rhys whispers in his ear and Timothy relaxes into the touch before the taller man lets his hands drop. “Hey. Please don’t scare me like that ever again.” Timothy whispers back, grinning a nervously. Rhys answers with an apologetic smile. They’re so close that Rhys can see the light freckles dusting the other man’s cheeks and nose, How interesting, he thinks with dreamy eyes, Not the perfect copy. He always finds a way to go against the man himself.
“What’cha thinkin’ about?” Timothy slurs, reveling in the fact that he can examine the circuits circling the other man’s ECHOeye from this close. Rhys shrugs noncommittally, he doesn’t trust his voice or his tongue. He checks his ECHOclock instead, his eye flaring in a bright spark of cerulean. “11:02.” he informs the other with a frown, “Why hasn’t she contacted us already?”
“To be fashionably late?” Timothy jokes. Rhys pouts, frown deepening, “Okay, as much as that would be fitting, I don’t think she’d keep us waiting just for shits and giggles.” The doppelgänger grunts, now mirroring the other man’s frown, “Can’t you call her back or something?”
Rhys heaves a sad sigh, “Wish it worked like that.”
Timothy curses under his breath, “Okay, what are we gonna do, then?” Rhys eyes the cameras around, Timothy notices the tiny twitch in the man’s left brow and wonders if it’s stress getting to him. He resists the urge to crack his knuckles just to keep his hands busy. He resists the urge to brush Rhys’s worried brow with his knuckles.
Then, as if waking from some deep sleep, their comms crackle into life; Angel’s quick breathing is all they can hear for a moment. “Thank goodness, you’re on!” Rhys whispers happily. A sob escapes the Siren’s lips, turning into a quiet whine.
“Angel?” Timothy tries, feeling his limbs go ice cold.
Handsome Jack is watching you.
“He knows.” Angel’s barely-there voice trembles with fear, fury and nervousness alike. “I don’t… I dunno how… But he knows.” Even across the line, the men know she’s crying miserably. “He figured it out somehow, and he tried to get into my chambers, but… but I locked him out, which… which made him only angrier.” She hiccups, trying to take a breath, “Then he decided t-to leave me exactly where I am, ‘cause I can’t… I can’t run away even I wanted to… so he’s… he’s coming after you.” She sounds so desperate, so lost. Rhys and Timothy turn to regard each other with wide eyes and quickened breaths before the taller man huffs out a shaky breath.
“Okay, alright. It’s going to be alright.” he tells both of his (friends?). There’s a “How?” hanging in the still air, he can feel it. “Can you just point us in your direction?”
The Siren falls silent for a moment before continuing with a timid, “Why?” Rhys looks at Timothy, then at their surroundings.
“Because we go together, like a family.” he answers, his voice firm and his decision final.
The giant doors to Angel’s chambers begrudgingly glide open with a hiss, allowing the unlikely duo in; inside, everything gives off a soft purple hue so unlike the sharp yellow tint to the life outside. Feeling like they have entered a completely different dimension, Rhys and Timothy’s gaping mouths open even wider when they spot Angel soaring through the chamber gracefully, giant virtual wings fluttering behind her with every breath she takes. Just a pretty doll stuck in a ball of Eridian energy, used to control.
“Makes… sense.” Timothy mumbles, awestruck. “Huh?” Rhys asks, not being able to take his eyes off of the Siren. Timothy ignores him, opting for moving closer to the girl no older than 18, “You really are an angel.” With big fat tears rolling down her round cheeks (still a child!), Angel shakes her head frantically, “You can’t- I’m not- I’m not good for… for anything other than getting you c-caught.” Regardless, she lowers herself down to the floor, looking at Timothy from behind the shield of energy she’s trapped in with a painful expression on her face. The doppelgänger puts a tentative hand against the shield and hisses when it burns his gloved hand; under Angel’s worried stare, he settles on hovering his hand near the purple bubble instead.
“You’re good enough.” the man made in Handsome Jack’s image smiles- just an innocent soul unlucky enough to wear such a horrible person’s skin. “We’re gonna help you, we’re gonna get you out-“
“You can’t!!” Angel pounds the shield with her bare hands, letting out an anguished scream at the pain and the feeling of helplessness. “You don’t understand! Even if you manage to remove me from this machinery, I won’t last long enough!” She drops down onto the floor bonelessly and sighs, “I’m too integrated into this system.” Timothy slowly sits on the floor facing Angel, a black dot among the hues of violet illuminating the chamber. Rhys slowly paces close and crouches next to the body double, “What do you suppose will happen to you once you manage to get us out, Angel?” His deep voice is but a rumble among the hum of the machines hooking Angel up into the system. She raises her head, her bright blue eyes sparkling with fury and determination, “I can take it! It won’t be the first time.” Timothy cringes visibly next to Rhys. “Why?” the taller man asks in return.
“Because!!” the room trembles with her raw power, “I have!!” everything burns a brighter shade of purple, “NO CHOICE!!” Her voice cracks.
Every passing second is valuable, a matter of life and death, but Rhys and Timothy give Angel the moment of quietude she needs before the taller man speaks in a tone indicating he’s not enjoying whatever is crossing his mind, “I have an idea.” Timothy’s gaze leaves Angel for a brief moment to search Rhys’s face with curiosity, the Siren looks downright doubtful. Rhys swallows, his throat working around the imaginary lump wedged in there as he licks his parched lips. “If… If you are the system… It means your consciousness is integrated into it, right?” Angel gives him a small, unsure nod. “Unless you want to spend the rest of your life suffering at his hands… And if there’s no possibility of you surviving without these…” he gestures at the room itself, “machinery… and Eridium… Why not completely integrate yourself into the system and… and leave your body behind?”
Angel gasps, her soft lips rounding in a soft “Oh.” as Timothy visible stiffens next to them before half-rising to his feet angrily, “WHAT the HELL, Rhys?!” In the uncanny violet light washing over them, his furious face is almost as terrifying as Handsome Jack’s.
The taller man raises his hands defensively, “Nononono listen to me! Please!” His gaze moves from the body double to Angel. He taps one trembling finger to the port just above his left temple, “I’ll… I will house you… here. You’ll be safe if no one knows you’re in my head… temporarily.” His thick brows fly up into his hairline, “You’ll be free of the system, and you’ll be alive.”
“She won’t be alive.” Timothy spits, looking at Rhys as if he’s a piece of useless trash.
“It will still be better than this!” Rhys argues, waving his long arms around. Timothy bares his teeth in an ugly sneer.
“There must be another way! We can’t just kill her to… to supposedly save her!”
“She said it herself, there is no other way!”
“I’m in.” Angel’s timid voice silences the two man, who turn to look at her with matching expressions of surprise.
“Angel…” Timothy sighs, sounding like a father but unlike her father yet again. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his prominent nose, “Even if it worked, you’d be stuck in another body. Tell me, what difference would that make compared to your current situation?”
“I trust you. I trust you both enough to know that you won’t use or abuse me.” Angel’s thin fingers hover over the collar encircling her neck like some goddamn noose. “I trust that you’ll set me free.”
There’s a beat. Timothy turns to Rhys to glare daggers into his skull, “Can you guarantee she’ll survive?” For a brief moment, Rhys is thoughtful, actually weighing the situation and his capabilities in his head. He nods, turning to the girl, “Yes, I guarantee you’ll survive without a problem.” The two share a small smile, “Just let me get a cable and-“
“AAAAAAAAANGEEEEEEELLLLLL!?”
Handsome Jack is always watching.
A spark of blue amongst the sea of purple, Angel’s collar comes to life with a loud crack, causing her whole body to jolt and tremble with electricity running through it. She screams a painful scream. In that moment of her painful distraction, the strongly locked and bolted doors to the chamber shudder open- not a perfect glide because Angel is still in control, but enough to let the thin frame of Handsome Jack in. The small amount of lighting in the room gives depth to the shadows playing on his face, accentuating every sharp curve and giving his form an even more dangerous edge.
Angel lets out a sob.
Timothy rises to his full height and draws his pistol, “You get her into your head as fast as possible.” he tells Rhys without turning to look at him, “I’ll deal with him.”
Handsome Jack prowls close like a lion, his long shirt fluttering behind him like a glorious mane, “Nobody’s dealing with anyone, Timmy-boy.” he laughs darkly, regarding the gun in the body double’s hand as if it’s just a twig. Timothy raises the pistol and aims at Handsome Jack’s heart, to which the tyrant simply laughs again. “Should’ve guessed it would be you… Should’ve known only you would be ungrateful enough to turn against me.” Timothy supports his right hand with his left- on a normal day he wouldn’t need to draw a gun with both hands, but the fear coursing through his body is making him tremble terribly. Rhys slowly moves around the machines, looking for an ECHOcable.
Timothy pulls the trigger.
His laugh reverberating off of the walls, Handsome Jack merely touches the item strapped to his chest; the cloaking device erases him from existence right before the bullet rips through the air. Timothy groans dejectedly before he grips his gun with both hands and closes his eyes; Handsome Jack might be the powerful one here, but Timothy Lawrence has the first-hand combat experience. He knows how to listen to the steps of the man he spent years trying to turn into.
With a triumphant gasp, Rhys pulls out an ECHOcable and blows onto the shiny end of it. Angel’s eyes follow his movements worriedly. Ready? he mouths, dangling the cable slowly.
She nods. He slips the end of the cable into his port.
“Surprise!” With an evil cackle, Handsome Jack appears behind Timothy, and although the body double is fast enough to turn around and face his enemy, he can’t prevent his attacker from decking him in the jaw.
He staggers back, vision blurred and darkening for a moment. Handsome Jack descends onto him like some suffocating night terror, grabbing him by his hair he forces the body double onto his feet before throwing him off to the side.
“Initiating transfer.” Angel whispers to Rhys and the man’s ECHOeye burns a bright cerulean as he grips the desk he’s connected to. “5% complete.” he grumbles through gritted teeth.
Handsome Jack throws an angry kick to the stunned doppelgänger’s side, the pain slowly waking Timothy up. “You.” the tyrant kicks the other again, “Stupid.” Kick. ”Ungrateful.” Kick. “Little.” Kick. “Fu-uaaaahhhhhk!” Timothy finally manages to grab onto the man’s ankle and catch him off guard and off balance. He rolls away from the man currently sprawled on the floor in a heap of limbs and gets up, aiming his gun at Handsome Jack.
Wait.
Where is his gun?
“45% complete.” Rhys grunts, his brain and inner mechanics slowly overheating because of the AI getting downloaded into him.
“Rhys…” Angel mumbles from behind the shield, “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” The man cracks open an eye, the human one, and gives the girl an arrogant smile, “Of course I will! Just who do you take me for?”
Timothy turns this way and that, searching for his pistol- he needs the damn thing’s accuracy right now; but Handsome Jack has eyes only for him as he sweeps a kick from where he’s lying on the floor and hits Timothy in the shins.
He climbs over the fallen body double, damn weasel that he is, and his mean hands find their way onto and around Timothy’s neck; with an undignified gurgle, the double’s own hands wrap around the tyrant’s wrists in an attempt to loosen the pressure.
“65 percent.” Rhys groans, practically draped over the desk now. Angel gets up on her feet and watches the cybernetic man, cursing that she can’t do anything to help her friends out.
“You think you could beat me?” Handsome Jack squeezes further, causing the corners of Timothy’s vision to darken. “Who do you think you are? You’re nothing, absolutely nothing without me! You little shit, I’m gonna- ooof!” It’s Timothy’s turn to deck the other in the face with the back of his hand; the pressure around his neck lessens in waves as Handsome Jack slides backwards, holding his broken and bloodied nose.
“85 percent.” Rhys breathes out, giving Angel a tired smile. The AI is just too much for him to take in so quickly, but he will manage. He will save her. Angel lets out a choked sob.
Timothy slowly gets up, his legs throb in pain but he doesn’t mind. He has a goal in mind, and he won’t rest easy until he kills Handsome Jack. He spots his pistol just a few steps away.
“95 percent… Hnghh… ready?” Rhys slurs, barely able to keep his eyes open.
“Ready, whenever you are.” Angel graces him with a timid, trembling smile. She wants him to know how grateful she is that he’s doing this.
Timothy grabs the pistol and swerves to point it at Handsome Jack… only to realize they’ve ended up in a standoff with pistols aimed at each other’s heads.
The status bar in front of Rhys’s ECHOeye lazily moves from 99% to 100% and Angel can feel herself being sucked into nothingness as if she’s slowly falling into a dreamless sleep. Rhys lets out a blood curdling scream. There’s a gunshot heard in the distance.
Then everything goes silent.
When Rhys comes to, his eyes open slowly on their own accord and he catches a glimpse of purple at the corner of his eyes before a figure strolling towards him catches his attention.
Handsome Jack is watching you.
His scrambled brain tries to make his body move, screaming THATSHANDSOMEJACKRUNHESGOINGTOKILLYOURUNRUNRUN-
The bloodied figure kneels in front of him, his features obscured by the darkened chamber; he reaches out a hand to touch Rhys’s face and the taller man flinches, trying to move away.
“It’s me.”
The voice is the same, but the inflection is wrong. Rhys stops squirming. “Mmny?” he asks miserably. Handsome Jack (body double?)- Timothy brushes back Rhys’s sweaty locks with a gentle smile adorning his sharp features. “He’s gone.” he whispers. “We’re free.” A lone tear finds its way from his eye to his cheek, forming a tiny river on his face among all the red. Rhys smiles a dumb smile. Timothy strokes Rhys’s face, “Is she…?” The taller man’s eyes follow the purple pixels flickering into and out of existence next to him, Angel’s glitchy figure sits silently next to him with a smile on her plump lips. “She’s free.” he says, a matching smile on his own lips as if to show how Angel feels.
Timothy lets out a shaky breath, “Thank goodness.” He slowly closes the distance between them, “Thank goodness you’re both alive.” He captures Rhys’s still smiling lips in a mesmerizing kiss, making the taller man sigh with contentment.
“Indeed.” Angel sighs with relief and happiness.
They’re free.
Epilogue
Under the night sky gilded with various stars and planets Rhys and Timothy sit side by side, enjoying the gentle, warm breeze tousling their hair. Rhys has his flesh hand engulfed in Timothy’s protective grip as his other hand hovers in the air between them, the metallic limb illuminated in a gentle hue of purple.
“And that’s why our next stop should be Eros!” the small form of Angel calls out from her place in Rhys’s palm where she’s turned herself into a holo-projection for Timothy to see, “You nerds need to enjoy that romantic evening you’ve been looking forward to!” Timothy buries his face into the crook of Rhys’s neck, his face noticeably red even in the semi-darkness. “I promise,” Angel adds mischievously, “I’ll let you have your fun.”