**There's some implied abuse in this. Ratings must be what they must be. But if you actually play Borderlands, in all of its horrible glory, then it shouldn't be anything too drastic.**
"What're you lookin' at son?"
Jack startled, and twisted around to see the his gran's hulking shape right behind him. He usually heard when she was pounding up to him; it gave him time to brace himself.
He began making up for it right away.
"The H in the sky," he muttered.
"Hyperion," his grandmother hissed.
Jack's hands gripped the rock beneath him and his dangling legs hooked themselves on the crag, to keep him from falling off.
"What's Hyperion?" he whispered.
"Researchers. Weapon makers. Idiots, following Dahl's footsteps. That is a recruitment ship."
He glanced up in surprise, wondering why he wasn't getting hit, as was the norm to asking questions of any type.
Maybe she was saving her strength for later. It was his birthday, after all.
"Didn't your mother tell you?"
Jack swallowed, and shook his head. His mother had told him of Hyperion: the mad titan of light, the pillar of the east. She never said anything about Hyperion, the weapons manufacturer.
His father on the other hand… he'd mention Hyperion many times while ranting about work, although that was all he heard on the subject. He tried not to let work interfere with his family time, but, as time passed, he became more and more busy, and angry, and vicious… That was a long time ago. Even the memory of him was lying in cobwebs far back in the depths of his mind. It's hard remembering life before his grandmother. He knows that living in the now is more painful when he does remember.
Gran grunted. "Hrmph. That's for the better. I won't see you associate with them."
Jack bowed his head submissively. Inwardly, his mind raced, thinking about the research he would do on the EchoNet once he was locked in his room... after.
"Two minutes. Then we'll start."
He nodded, and Gran stomped back into the house. He turned back around immediately, not watching her crush the purple grass and flowers as she went. Instead, Jack forced his body to relax, and his mind to let go of worrying. He'd start worrying again when she called for him.
He took his odd stone out of his pocket, and rubbed the warm line that circled though it. He absorbed the view spread below him: the mountains to the left, the purple meadow to his right, the canyon and its bullymongs yawning at his feet. He took in its beauty, and its peace. They were the only substitute he'd had for the past 5 years- well, one of his three substitutes.
Then, he looked in the orange sky, and saw the ship flying past. It shone golden in the afternoon light. He recalled seeing the same ship fly past when he was seven… the year where Hell started. He remembered thinking the giant H shape meant hope, and that it was God's message to him that everything would be okay eventually. Jack didn't believe in God anymore, but still felt that same sense of grace when he looked at it now. It allowed him to forget about what would happen after the next 60 seconds passed, as it did 5 years ago, when he'd made that dreadful mistake of complaining about not having a party for his birthday… What a wonderful tradition he had put in place-
Jack snapped himself out of those thoughts, and went back to memorizing the ship. It could come in handy later, when he tried building another drone. If he modeled the wings the same way, vertically instead of horizontally, perhaps the balance would be better. Thinning out the body would also probably help too… but, if he did take any more weight off, the wings would be heavier, and it would might as well be a little toy runner. Maybe he should take less advice from Jack Harkners novels, since they were fiction... and ancient.
He sighed, his mind turning to the other bootlegged books he'd gotten off the EchoNet. He's pretty sure that without them, he would've jumped off Gran's house's cliff a long time ago; they was his third distraction from life, and probably his best. It was all too easy to be reminded about Gran out on this cliff, it was all too easy for Gran to stomp towards his room and drag him out just as he hides all of his stuff away. Reading his fiction in all of its vulgar, profane glory was the only passtime he could rely on, since he careful: only reading while Gran was sound asleep at night. That way it wouldn't be taken away from him, like his first project had.
Jack grumbled at the memory. He'd come so close at recreating something he'd read. It had definitely been accomplished before, but if he'd been successful, then maybe he could have an actual friend for-
"JOHN! GET IN HERE!"
Jack shuddered, and stood, taking one last longing glance at the ship. He wondered that if one day, someone from there would rescue him from his grandmother. Reality said that it wouldn't happen, but who's to say that heroes don't exist in the real world?
Then, he turned, and trudged his way back to the house, undoing the buttons of his shirt and the belt of his pants early so that it'd be over sooner.
**Will possibly, in the future, be the first chapter of a series.
Maybe.
PLEASE leave comments and feedback.
Thank you for reading.**