Most men did not walk through a doorway like it was a guillotine waiting to drop on them. Then again, one never knew what to expect when stepping into the office of Handsome Jack. Lately, it seemed like more and more people were taking a one way trip down that long hallway to the office. Rumors circulated among the workers that Jack was 'aggressively restructuring' the upper management of Helios Station.

"Hey there Bud; looking exceptionally handsome today. Why don't you come on over here. I've got a surprise for you."

To hear that line coming from the mouth of a man that had less than a month ago flushed four people into space not fifteen feet from where they stood say they have a 'surprise' for you, was enough to give the most stalwart man a moment's pause. Of course, Timothy was not a stalwart man. Thus, this line was nothing short of terrifying.

"A-a surprise? Yeah, okay. Surprises can be good..." Timothy tried to sound convincing.

Jack chuckled, "Relaaax, man. I'm not gonna bite. Come on over."

Timothy's curiosity overcame his nerves as he moved towards the metal and glass monstrosity that dominated the rear of the office. Stiffly seating himself in front of the desk, he saw that several piles of loose paper had been arranged to cover up an object on top of it. This must have been the 'surprise' Jack had mentioned.

"See, here's the thing: you've been doing a pretty good job so far if I say so myself – which I am. I'll admit that things were a little hectic when you showed up, but you handled yourself almost as well as I would have. Thing is, we've run into a little snag. Due to a little interference…" Jack's fingers flicked against the edge of the mask covering his face and Timothy could practically hear the grind of this teeth, "...I'm looking a little different since you showed up. So, as of right now, you're not a very good body double. That means we're gonna have to make an adjustment."

Oh god, I'm dead. People didn't just get fired from Hyperion, especially not in Jack's office. Timothy began to wonder what was under that stack of papers: a gun, a grenade, maybe a small incendiary device. Probably the latter. Hopefully, his death would be significantly quicker than the scientists had been.

Timothy's thoughts on his imminent death were interrupted as Jack removed the papers covering up the object on his desk. Instead of the custom tailored murder weapon Timothy had expected to be intimately introduced to, it was nothing but an innocent mask. Or at least it would be innocent were it not for the face it resembled. The visage of Handsome Jack stared back up at him; its lifelike nature left unnaturally distorted as it lay flaccidly stretched against the desktop.

"Sooo what'dya think?" Jack grinned at him in a way that was likely meant to be friendly, but had always managed to feel oddly predatory. "You ready to get this work of art installed?"

Timothy was admittedly at a loss for words since it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. There was just no right way to respond when someone 'gifts' you a mask to be grafted onto your face. Was a thanks in order? "Uh..."

"Oh, what am I saying? Sure you are." Jack chucked amicably, as if he had just noticed the irony – unintentionally of course. He circled around the desk to stand behind Timothy, lifting him from the chair. Jack clapped an arm over his shoulder as the other shoved the mask against his chest. Jack continued to talk as he marched the two of them towards the door of his office, "With a little hair dye and this upgrade, you'll be back to being a perfect me. Come on, let's get you prepped and ready to go. We wouldn't want those surgeons to trigger the bomb in your face while they're poking around."

Timothy felt a distinct sense of déjà vu as he awoke. The room he occupied looked as if it had been designed to be as featureless as possible. Sitting up to survey his surroundings, Timothy's eye was drawn to the only object sticking out in the vicinity. In the place of a get well bouquet, there sat a small hand-mirror. Rubbing at his face with one hand to dispel the slight tingling sensation as feeling slowly returned to the skin, Timothy reached for the mirror. Bringing it up to his face, his eyes were drawn to the sticky note that adorned its surface.

Looking good, Champ.
- Jack

Peeling off the sticky note, Timothy finally got a look at his new, new face. It occurred to him that for the large amounts of money Jack possessed, he certainly could have tried a little harder to make the flesh tone of the mask actually match his skin color. Or for that matter, skip the mask entirely and just replace the damaged skin. Though when he thought about it, this was still probably the least invasive surgery he'd had recently.

Timothy worked his jaw, testing the feel of the mask. The implants were tender, but the mask slipped easily over his skin. The lifelike texture of the material beneath his hand made it all the more strange that he could barely feel the pressure of his fingers. There was a pull to the way it sat on his face; as if someone had stretched the skin of his jaw and temples taut. The curl of a lip; the flair of a nostril. Even the smallest facial expression took a herculean effort to create. Timothy was left wondering how Jack was able to animate his face so well when he spoke.

Once again, he was the perfect copy of Handsome Jack – with the power, the women, and everything else that entailed. Not such a bad deal, all things considered. So why was it that the only thing he felt when he looked into the mirror was contempt?

"Hey there, Killer."

For the second time in as many days, Timothy found himself in Handsome Jack's office. With his survival now guaranteed for the foreseeable future, Timothy felt significantly more at ease as he approached Jack's desk. Instead of the usual assortment of papers and datapads, an assortment of gear sat gleaming under the fluorescent lights. There were few enough reasons that he could think of for such a display.

"More surprises?"

"Bingo. Think of this as your get well present Handsome Jack style – which means more bullets and awesome. You see, I was thinking about our little game of switcheroo we were playing during that whole 'stop the moon from being destroyed by a crazy bitch' thing, and I couldn't help but notice a little problem. Namely, looking and sounding exactly like me – lucky you by the way – isn't very useful if we don't both have the same matching equipment. So, feast your eyes on the latest developments from R&D."

Jack swept a hand over the gear and Timothy's eyes were drawn to a set of wrist lasers. "Knew you'd love this little number. I was gonna keep them all to myself but… I guess you've earned them. I upgraded from those dinky bullets 'cause yeaaah, those sucked. Now these babies on the other hand, are laser shotguns... LASER SHOTGUNS. If that's not the definition of awesome, then I don't know what is."

"Okay, that is pretty awesome," Timothy conceded.

"Right? Just imagine putting this lady killer up to someone's head-" Jack let out a wet puff of air as his hands mimicked an explosion effect at his temple. "Oh man-" he laughed to himself, "-that would be great." Wiping a non-existent tear from his eye, Jack returned his attention to the desk.

Timothy spotted a digistruct storage deck among the items. "I already have one of those."

"Not like this one you don't," Jack pointed at his wristwatch. "I tried to have the guys in R&D whip up another one of these things, but apparently those useless idiots can't figure out how the damn thing works. Yeah, probablyyy shouldn't have killed Gladstone and the rest of those guys when I did. Yep…"

You don't say? Timothy thought to himself, although given Jack's charitable mood, he knew better than to say that out loud. "So we'll have to keep switching?"

"For now," Jack shrugged. "But in the mean time, this little toy will help keep unwanted attention off you." Jack pressed a button on the side of the deck and a small sphere phased into existence on his palm. Dropping it towards the ground, the ball began to glow for a second before its trajectory stopped. With a flash of light, Timothy found himself face to face with… himself.

"It's a holographic projector that's programmed with a likeness of yours truly. It's designed to mirror whatever actions you take, so try not to make me look stupid. Throw out a couple of these babies when you're surrounded and watch those assholes try to guess who the real one is. The deck has a few dozen in it right now and you can always pick up more it you run out. Of course they do cost over ten thousand dollars each, but no pressure. I'm sure you won't waste 'em."

Timothy looked down at the diminutive item in his hand that could've paid off his student debt ten times over. "I'll literally be throwing away money."

"You'll be throwing away my money. Just remember that."

As if I could forget.

"And now I've saved the best for last..." Jack pulled the sheet off the last item, revealing the rust colored metallic glint of an SMG.

"It's an SMG..."

"You sound disappointed," Jack said, with a voice you can practically hear the smirk in.

"Eh, a little. I mean, I was kinda expecting some sorta… black hole… gun thing?" Timothy shrugged. "And I thought Hyperion was yellow now."

Jack held up a finger, "Okay, first off, that sounds awesome and we're totally gonna make that a thing now. Second, I said the same thing to the designers and they said some bullshit about how the alloy can't be painted or something – I dunno know what I pay those guys for. The point is, appearances can be deceiving, my friend." Jack gave the gun an appreciative pat. "This is the single most advanced gun Hyperion has ever produced. Every part in this bad boy was custom made by gunsmiths who get paid in islands. This gun doesn't just fire bullets, this gun fires pre-validated parking tickets to hell. And you and I… we're the only two badasses that get to use them. "

Jack picked up the gun with an almost reverent care and handed it across the desk to Timothy. "This gun... this gun is our vengeance. Against the bandits. Against the Vault Hunters. Against anyone that would stand in our way. And revenge: ohhh, revenge is gonna be a bitch."

The silhouetted forms of four figures stood hunched over Jack's desk. With the lights dimmed to almost nonexistent levels, the sole source of illumination in the office was provided by the holographic display on its surface. Hovering inches over the solid glass pane, a three-dimensional model of New Haven slowly rotated in front of their eyes.

"As you can see here-" Jack tapped his finger on the glass and the view changed, highlighting New Haven's walls. "-they've got shit for defenses. Like, literally shit. These guys live in a junkyard. Primitives, amiright? Anyway, I'm thinking we send in a few dozen loaders to get this party started, and then I drop the three of you in there to give them more of a personal greeting."

"And what kind of greeting would that be?" Timothy asked, squinting at the model.

"An extremely unfriendly one. I'm talking bullets and explosions and lots of dead bodies," Jack clarified as Wilhelm let out a grunt of agreement while Nisha grinned at the prospect. Another tap of the glass and the view changed to display a very familiar face. "Now, I know a couple of these guys are familiar, but let's just go over our targets anyway: the military looking one with the stick up his ass is Roland and he's the ringleader of this little group. He's ex-Crimson Lance and definitely smarter than the average asshole on this rock. That being said, outside of a custom turret he's got, he's no more dangerous than your usual soldier. Kill him first if you can because he'll be the one giving orders around there."

"Next up we've got Lilith, now watch your ass 'cause this one is gonna be a huge bag of dicks. Lilith is a Siren and as you saw before, she's got the ability to phase between dimensions. I'm working on a countermeasure for this one, so we'll see. Just watch your back because she's liable to stick her fist through it. Now, once she does pop out to attack, she'll be stuck in this dimension for a short time until she can build up enough power to dive in again. When this happens, focus every last bit of firepower you've got on her and take that bitch down fast."

"Then we've got Mordecai, and don't let his drunken hobo appearance fool you. This guy survived Moxxi's Underdome and that was no picnic. He can pick you off from a mile away, and that's if his stupid bird doesn't gouge your eyes out first. Luckily, this guy is half-pissed before he's taken his first piss. Just keep him pinned down, get in close and he shouldn't be a problem."

"Last up, we've got Brick. No really, that's his name. He's about as dumb as one and hits like a sack full of 'em. The good news is, this guy has all of the subtlety of a Torgue advertisement and causes almost as many explosions. You'll see him coming long before he ever gets to you. Pump him full of bullets at a distance and he'll go down like the others."

Jack swiped at the glass pane and the images disappeared. "Look guys, these four might have a legendary reputation down there, but at the end of the day, they're no different than any other mercenary."

"You mean other than me, right?" Wilhelm added.

"Other than us," Nisha interrupted.

"Please, you guys aren't simple mercenaries, you're part of my team," Jack swept an arm over the two of them. "And I only take the best in my team."

Jack tapped his other hand on the desktop and the display faded out of existence as the lights in the office returned to normal. "Alright, meeting adjourned guys. We'll be moving forward in a couple of weeks once the countermeasures for Lilith are ready to go." Wilhelm and Nisha began to move towards the office entrance while Timothy lingered behind.

"Oh and one last thing," Jack called to their retreating backs. "While you're there, keep an eye out for one more person on our shit list. Helena… Helana... whatever, just look for the woman with a mechanical arm and a fucked up face. I'd give you a picture, but I don't think you can miss her. She's the town administrator and someone we're definitely going to want dead."

"So, pretty much everyone?" Wilhelm sarcastically remarked over his shoulder.

"Yeah, they're gonna be so dead. That junk heap isn't even gonna exist on the map when we're done with it," Jack chuckled to himself. However, as the office doors closed on the two mercenaries, Jack found himself not quite alone as he had expected to be.

Throughout their little 'war console', Timothy had found little to add to the conversation. The more he realized just what Jack's plan with New Haven had entailed, the more horrifying the prospects of his immediate future became. He knew better than to question Jack's methods in front of an audience, but with the other two gone, he now had the chance to press for some answers about Jack's intentions.

"Uh, Jack...?" Timothy struggled against his sense of self-preservation.

"What's up, Champ?" Jack looked up from reorganizing his desk that he had previously cleared for the presentation. Among the scattered objects lay a solid gold statue of himself. "Hey, whatcha think of this little number? I'm commissioning a whole series of them for Opportunity."

"Are you holding a baby?" Timothy was incredulous.

"And the Vault Key. I wanted it to give off a family man vibe. Gotta relate to the common man and all that jazz."

As the two of them sat in Jack's office aboard his personal space station, Timothy found the idea of Handsome Jack trying to relate to the common man to be a laughable one. He kept it to himself however, and instead pressed forward with his question. "Speaking of families, I'm kinda curious about our plans for New Haven."

"I dunno, it seemed pretty straightforward to me," Jack shrugged. "Go in there and kill everything you see."

"Yeah, it's uh… it's that second part I'm a little concerned about," Timothy managed to force out. "Why are we going to destroy this whole town just to kill four people? I mean, it seems like a waste of resources. Why not just draw the four Vault Hunters out and kill them in the open?"

"First off, it's my resources and I got plenty to spare. And second, it's not about the Vault Hunters – it's about getting the point across. Vault Hunters are no better than bandits and I want everyone on that goddamned rock to understand that 'if you harbor bandits, you're just as dead as they are.' There's no room for bandits on the Pandora I'm building."

"Well, I don't think –"

"Yeah, you don't think." Jack circled the table and backed Timothy against the desk. "Your job is not to think. Your job is to be an expendable version of me. You're here to obey. Not to question. Not to suggest. Not to speak." A finger jab into Timothy's chest punctuated each sentence. "And if you do feel like making a suggestion-" Jack grabbed the collar of Timothy's jacket and dragged him around to face the airlock. "-I'll do to you what I did to the last group of guys that thought they were smarter than me."

Panic gripped Timothy as he thought of the scientist's demise. His hand reached out for Jack's desk in an attempt to grab anything he could hold onto. Struggling against Jack's grip, his hand landed on the small statue.

Jack spun Timothy around to push him back against his desk. "So do we have an understanding or am I gonna have to -" The sound of a loud crack echoed through the room as the statue connected with Jack's temple. The grip at Timothy's collar instantly loosened as Jack went tumbling to the floor.

OhmygodohmygodIAMSOFUCKED! Timothy raised his hands to clutch his head, one still holding the now blood covered likeness. His breathing went erratic as he tried and failed to figure out what he should do. Jack groaned from his position on the floor and Timothy dropped to his knees next to the prone form of his employer.

"Oh god – are you alright? Please, please be alright."

Jack rolled over on the floor as he tried to recover from his dazed state. Finally succeeding in getting his extremities under him, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. One of his hands moved to clutch at the hole gouged through his mask and into the flesh beneath.

"WHAT THE FUCK! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME! YOU – YOU'RE DEAD. WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU, YOU'RE GOING TO-"

Jack's head made a wet slapping sound as it hit the already blood soaked metal floor. Timothy swung out a third time, and the golden statue of Jack embedded itself in the side of its real-life counterpart's head. Jack's body gave a final spasm as the fourth impact shattered his well defined cheekbones, the mask caving into the mess of gore.

Timothy slid backwards away from the body until his back hit the desk, and the now misshapen statue dropped from his hand with a clank. His hands shook as he wiped away the blood from his mask. His breath came in a harsh staccato through his burning throat. After some time, the tension in his body began to drain away.

Timothy wasn't sure how long he sat next to the cooling body of Jack as he silently waited for his end to come. Someone would have to enter the office sooner or later, and he was tired of waiting for the axe to fall. His thoughts were finally disturbed by the shrill sound of the intercom on Jack's desk. Had they already figured it out? Was a group of men waiting outside of the office for the signal to bust in the door? Timothy pushed himself to his feet and moved around to the back the desk. A near slip on the pool of blood surrounding Jack's head sent his knees crashing into the desk. Biting back a colorful response, Timothy jabbed the button to answer the call.

"Hello, Handsome," came the feminine voice of Jack's secretary. "I know you're finishing up a meeting, but I called to remind you that your 4:30 appointment is fifteen minutes behind schedule. Would you like me to reschedule for a later time?"

Timothy stared at the intercom in amazement. How could they not know? Someone had to know what he'd done, right?

"Jack?"

Timothy's gaze fell on the body that still sat in a pool of blood on the office floor. Once again, he shifted back to looking at the intercom. Taking a deep breath, Timothy pressed the button to respond.

"Hey Babe, could you run that schedule by me again? I may need to shift some appointments around this afternoon."

A/N: Hello readers. Orieon and LittlePorcelainDoll here. If you made it this far, then hopefully you're interested enough to see this story continue. This work will be a collaborative effort on our parts to bring you the best narrative possible. As you can see, this story will be jumping into AU territory very quickly, and hopefully you're inclined to take that jump with us.

You've probably noticed that some of the background in this story is somewhat different from the canon. Some of this will be stylistic changes on our part while other changes will be a necessity that comes from adapting the game mechanics to a storytelling narrative. We'll be sure to clarify any of the larger ones we do in author's notes at the bottom of the chapters as they come up.

Speaking of which, let's talk about Timothy. In the Pre-Sequel, this character arrives at the same time as everyone else and is there every step of the way. In our version, this was not the case. While he did arrive around the same time, he was not present for all of the events in the game, nor was he the constant combatant that all the playable characters of this series are.

That should wrap things up for now. If you have any feedback or questions, feel free to leave them for us and we'll try to get to them in a timely manner.