A/N: I only own my OCs. Everything else belongs to Gearbox.

Property of Hyperion
Chapter One: Freedom


This was what I was made for.

A dead skag pup was on the ground, twitching and rattling as the last bits of life faded away. I'd killed it, cracked its skull and ruptured its brain with my bare hands. Now I faced a much more interesting problem: the mother. The vibrant tattoos, etched into my skin over time, pulsed with my steady heartbeat, faint light glowing against my tanned flesh. Power pooled into my left hand. If one had control, they had the ability to survive anything Pandora could throw at them. I had enduring calm and flawless control. The mother was circling me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Step, step, pause. Step, step, pause. Her left side was lagging; the beast had a limp where I'd dislocated her foreleg. This was our purpose. This was why we were created. To kill. To serve. The mother skag roared her defiance at me and rushed forward, feet kicking up bits of dirt and dust. I shouted back and slammed my fist into her jaw. Violet light flickered around my arm. A spike of energy erupted into a cloud of purple wisps as I broke one of the skag's bones. She jerked back a bit with a whimper, but that seemed to be the extent of her acknowledgement. Pain wasn't her first concern. I was.

The alpha skag female snarled and pawed at the dirt; the left side of her face sagged and bled a little. I watched her throat rumble with a deep growl. She could smell her pup's blood on my hands, and bared her thorn-like teeth. I panted and glared at her in return, my shoulders limp with exhaustion. Hours must have gone by since practice had begun this morning. Sweat dripped down my face, stung my eyes. I couldn't look away from her. The last time I took my eyes off an opponent, my arm was destroyed, but I was so tired. The skag was suddenly in motion, rushing me again. I needed Eridium and a rest before I could try to break another of her bones. She was fast - alpha skags were always the best of the best in the pack - and I couldn't believe how hard it was for me to jump back, almost out of the way. Almost, but not really. Her jaws clamped shut around my entire head. Small, thorn-like teeth cut into my neck and collar, digging in and beginning to pull me up. She was trying to crush my neck, but her mouth was closed around the metal collar I wore. Everything was dark and smelled of rotting meat. I felt like panicking; I should have been panicking. It was hard to freak out, though, when everything seemed to be moving so slowly. The skag's barbed tongue scraped over my face, gashing my cheeks and forehead. I took a deep breath, despite the rancid stench inside the female's mouth, and clenched my fist again. The marks etched into my face lit up the interior of the beast's mouth - though not nearly as brightly as they would have, had I more energy left - as I drew every ounce of strength into my left hand. I shouted, hoping to startle her, as I twisted and further cut myself and my collar on the razor sharp teeth.

I saw something spark inside the skag's mouth as my fist connected with her throat. It's odd, vertical maw tightened briefly around my neck. Something sparked again - was that my collar? - and she released me. I was covered in blood and drool, which I for once noticed was quite disgusting. She was stumbling forwards, trying to catch her breath, growling at the same time. This was my chance. I drew my knife from the sheath on my hip and drove it into the small weak spot on its armored head: the eye. She howled in pain, rearing back on her hind legs and slashing at me with her long talons. A couple claws grazed my chest, but I couldn't really feel them. I was too interested in watching the huge skag fall over dead, my knife jammed deep into her eye.

Seconds passed like hours and I huffed, trying to catch my breath. "I killed that." My voice was gone, nothing but a whisper. "I killed an alpha skag with my bare hands." My eyes traveled over the fallen beast, then to my fingers, up my palms and arms. I'd done this a million times. Why did it just now feel exhilarating and new? My heart was thrumming in my chest like a bird's, my breath was heavy. Everything looked so much sharper, more crisp. I felt like I'd never really looked at my hands before, like I'd never noticed my glowing designs. The violet marks were beginning to dull, the light fading to what could easily have been mistaken for old tattoos.

"Enough, Cypher. Come back."

I raised my head, looking around. Whose voice was that? My body obeyed almost without hesitation, and it felt normal. But why follow a nameless voice? The collar sparked again and began to die. The soft edges receded even further, giving way to hard lines of reality. In truth, I knew where I was walking: back to the lab. But why did I want to go - because some man I could now see in a white coat told me to? The lab… The lab… It reminded me of discomfort. Loud voices. Screaming?

Clarity. It hit me like a tidal wave and I lost my balance. The ground rushed up to meet me.

I knew Pain. Pain and I were old friends, even. There was an edge to this that I hadn't felt before, though. I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, taking a moment to look down at the dry grass and dig my fingers into the dusty earth. This was new, almost pretty. A few red droplets dotted the ground, and I placed a couple fingers to a cold spot on my forehead. Warm blood stuck to them like dew, and I furrowed my brow. Was I always this fragile?

"Cypher. Come."

That voice. I remembered it, then: the voice that brought with it terrible pain, balefire, and thousands of needles. It made me angry. I jerked my head up and looked around. There he was, standing over me with more disapproval than I ever remembered seeing on his face. I was one of his survivors. We didn't disappoint him. Ever. I recalled a small ember of feeling in my chest that had been snuffed like a candle a long time ago. I had felt rage. I was feeling rage. This wasn't so much a matter of remembering things once forgotten, but that these things were so much clearer. The same voice repeated that command: Cypher, come! I had always been spoken to as if I were just an animal. I didn't kill beasts. I was one to these men. I balled up my fist, taking dust and bits of grass in it, and ground my teeth. Why was I seeing this now? I'd been with the lab for a couple years. Surely I would have felt this sooner? Yes, all of this was clear as crystal, but it was still dulled by the fact that I was theirs. I belonged to them like property. My rage was not of their concern. Only that I gave them results.

The man grabbed me by the front of my collar and shook me once. Something cracked. I wondered if he could hear it. "Cypher, I said come!" He jerked up on the device and managed to pull me to my feet and then some. I was inches over the ground, blood pounding in my skull. He shook me again. "When I give you an order, you obey." And then the collar broke in two, splintering bits of metal cutting into the both of us. Morgan stood there, surprised. This must have been a first in his long years at the Reserve. Control collars never broke.

I was surprised I didn't crumple to the ground when the collar snapped, and thankful, too. Something in me wanted to stay and hurt these men that had caused me pain, but common sense gave me more sound advice. Standing upright, I didn't even reach Dr. Morgan's shoulders. He was stronger than me, too. I was exhausted, outgunned, and outnumbered. I had to run, to get away from these men before they imprisoned me again. "You're a rat-bastard." I threw the dirt in his face, turned tail, and ran as fast as I could. Another scientist was already shouting for sedation, no emotion apparent in his voice. My feet kicked up sand and dirt as I sprinted around a rock formation and kept going. Darts flew past me and stuck in the ground at my feet. This was my chance. I was headed for freedom.