Considering everything he knew about the man, Timothy was rather surprised by the contents of the 'Jack Cave.' The room was remarkably... unremarkable – as far as secret lairs went. A simple metal desk faced a plain wall, unadorned except for the multitudes of papers and pictures stuck to its' surface. On the desk, a collection of datapads were stacked haphazardly next to a standard looking computer terminal. The rest of the desk was occupied with small parts and equipment that Timothy couldn't even begin to identify. The whole setup was just so normal. It wasn't like he was expecting dead bodies and a torture chamber, but for something so secretive, he'd been expecting something a little more… eccentric.
Not knowing where to begin, he threw his jacket over the back of the computer chair and approached the mess of pictures on the wall. After a closer look, Timothy realized that many of the papers were actually design blueprints for assorted Hyperion technology. Several of them depicted designs for parts of Helios Station including, what he assumed, were early concepts for the Eye of Helios. In addition, pictures of the four Vault Hunters were lined up near the top of the improvised collage. Several vulgar and creative liberties decorated each mugshot. In particular, the one of Lilith sported the word BITCH in large red letters across her forehead. Tacked to one side, was a photograph of Jack himself with his arm thrown over the shoulder of a woman he had no trouble recognizing even with her face burned out. After all, Moxxi did have very distinctive attributes.
Seeing that he wasn't about to get any super secrets off of Jack's walls, Timothy instead turned his attention back to the workstation. Though most of the parts on its surface may as well have been cooking utensils for all he knew, he did recognize at least a few items. It looked like Jack had been working on some kind of grenade mod. Several sheets of paper pinned under the assortment of parts outlined Jack's notes on the work. The words 'black hole gun' had been crossed off and replaced with a list of other rejected ideas until only the words 'singularity grenade' remained. Below the name was a scribbled description on its function. The steps were hilariously simple and even contained little stick figure drawings to illustrate the weapons use. Step one: throw grenade. Step two: grenade sucks shit in. Step three: explosions. Step four: profit.
It looked like Jack really had been working on making his black hole gun a thing. It may not have been a gun anymore, but Timothy still found himself impressed that an idea he pulled out of his ass had warranted this much attention. Maybe Jack wasn't such a bad guy... nah, still a douche.
Having gleaned everything he could understand from the mess on Jack's desk, Timothy sat himself down in an expensive looking leather chair in front of the computer terminal. Holy crap – it feels like it's massaging my butt just by sitting in it. After entertaining himself for several minutes by fiddling with the chair adjustments, he jabbed a few buttons on the keyboard and the screen came to life. An inspirational background of Jack posed dramatically on some non-descript cliffside informed Timothy to 'be the hero Pandora deserves.' He had never figured Jack to be the sort of person that would need motivation. With a sardonic snort, he dismissed the locked screen only to find himself at the main menu. Huh, no password. He guessed it made sense considering he had to get through a password protected door just to get in the room.
With the desktop awash with icons and folders, Timothy looked for a search function to query the database for information. After several seconds of searching for one to no avail, he began to wonder. Opening up the system information tab, his suspicions were confirmed: the terminal had no connection to the station's network. Jack must have kept all his plans and ideas hidden on this machine where only he would be able to access them. It looked like he was going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Clicking down through the folders, he checked their contents for anything useful. Opportunity designs: boring. New loader designs: BUL Loader, WAR Loader, PWR Loader; interesting, but no. The BNK3R: now we're getting somewhere. Deciding that a robot fortress sounded far more interesting than the other things he'd found thus far, Timothy dove into the file.
After a couple of minutes of reading, Timothy was convinced that the BNK3R was the perfect embodiment of Jack's design style: brutally effective and impractically expensive. What he couldn't understand was why Jack would design this thing to guard one location. What was it that made this 'Control Core' so important?
Backing out to the desktop, Timothy began to scour the files for any information on the Control Core. He finally found a file of the same name near the end of the list. Opening it up, he was presented with multiple numbered versions. Clicking on the last one, he was unprepared for what he found within.
It was a prison, or it sure as hell looked like one. Built into a mountain and containing no windows, it was hard to see it as some kind of summer home. There were few comforts of any sort and the central area was surrounded by an industrial strength barrier. The entire place looked to be rigged with the highest security he had ever heard of. This place looked like the type of thing someone would only wish on their most hated enemy, and yet, as he continued to scan through the documents, Timothy realized that it couldn't be further from the truth. Starring back at him from the screen was a very familiar face.
"No," the soft whisper broke the silence of the room. The image of Angel sat on the screen, her wide eyes focused at something off camera. Several doctors surrounded her and a network of cables were attached to different points on her body. Beneath her photo, was a written report dated to the time it was taken.
Subject continues to exhibit increased capabilities as her body matures. Earlier issues with ability control have been largely solved thanks to neural implants. While the subject's energy output continues to climb, we feel it is still insufficient for the hypothetical scenario outlined in your proposal from log number 186. Suggestion of an alternate energy transferal source is recommended.
Clicking to the next page of the file, Timothy was greeted with a horrifying sight. The machine in the blueprint looked like some kind of medieval torture device. Tubes as thick as his arm hung connected to reservoir tanks storing an unidentified substance from the ceiling, snaking down to a table that ran dozens of smaller lines into injector racks on the sides.
"What the fuck…" whispered Timothy, not quite wrapping his mind around what he was seeing. How could someone possibly plan to do that to their own daughter? Was this why she had seemed so uncomfortable earlier at the prospect of seeing her room? Had she known what to expect?
Looking for answers, Timothy backed out of the file and clicked on the first of the series. Scrolling past the primitive chamber designs, he found what he was looking for over halfway in. The report didn't look too much different from the last one he had read, but the girl pictured within couldn't have been more than a child.
Body markings have continued to spread from their initial locations, but no ill effects have been observed in affected areas. Subject has displayed multiple instances of spontaneous energy outbursts as outlined in log number 1. Two of our scientists have been killed and a third injured in the latest episode. It is recommended that further containment protocols be enacted for the safety of those working with the subject.
(Look John, Angel's distressed mental state could be contributing to the increased frequency of these outbursts. We understand that this is a difficult and painful time for you, but you need to make the time to visit your daughter – for our sakes if nothing else.)
Scrolling rapidly through the past reports, Timothy watched the pictures of Angel grow up in front of his eyes. Reaching the end of the file, he backed out again to look at the second and third of the series. The design of the containment chamber became increasingly advanced with each new iteration. Making it to the second-to-last folder, there was a sudden change in the design. This version was far more compact than the previous ones and lacked many of the extra security measures. Loading the next page, it became painfully obvious why this was the case. The cell was located on Helios Station.
Timothy took a moment to memorize the location on the screen before slowly pushing himself up from the seat. Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, he made his way back to the room's entrance. Resetting the security on the door as it slid shut behind him, he hesitated to once again don the familiar jacket. Suddenly, the prospect of being Jack came with a wave of disgust he hadn't felt before. He crept silently down the long hallway so as not to wake up his newly adopted daughter as he made his way to the apartment's exit. The dim lighting of the station's night cycle matched the dark mood he found himself in. He had a feeling that what he was about to see wouldn't improve this any.
Angel awoke to the smell of bacon. She wearily pushed back the blankets and stretched out her petite frame. The entire night had been spent in a tense standoff of trying to enjoy her newfound freedom and dreading its' inevitable end. Cautiously optimistic, Angel pushed herself off the side of the bed – and right back on again as her feet met the cold metal of the floor. Sounds from the kitchen ceased at her sharp intake of breath.
A soft knock at her door came moments after. "Sweetie, you awake?"
"Yes, I'll be right out."
Her foot became an extended arm as she attempted to fish a bag out of the pile by her wall without touching the floor. After a few fruitless moments of strained stretching, she finally managed to snag the strap and drag it towards the bed. Successfully retrieving a pair of socks from the bag's haphazard contents, she slipped them on her feet with a contented hum. Crisis averted, she combed her fingers through her hair as she approached the door to her room.
As the door slid open, she was greeted with the questioning eyes of her father, "You uh… having trouble finding the door?"
"Oh, sorry. Didn't realize how cold everything is up here."
"I know, right? I got a pair of slippers permanently nailed to the floor next to my bed," his hand snaked out to latch onto her arm as he half-dragged her out of the doorway of her room. "I'll getcha a pair later. Now c'mon, I have a surprise for you." Her father's hands came to rest on her back as he hurried her into the kitchen.
The sight that greeted Angel in the kitchen was a wholly unexpected one. Actually, it was exactly what she had expected, and that's what made it unexpected. Bacon, eggs, and slightly burned toast. It was breakfast: just… breakfast.
"Are you gonna grab a seat or are you gonna eat standing up?"
Angel knew that statement probably begged an answer, but she wasn't sure what to say. Rather than try to answer, she took a seat at the table. Her father fussed around her, setting napkins and dishing out portions as he chatted cheerfully away.
"Here's some eggggs, some toast, some bacon - you like bacon, right? Of course you do, everyone likes bacon," her father continued to talk at her as he circled around the table to his seat. "Okay, I'm not waiting any longer, sooo dig in."
As she watched him make alarmingly short work of the food on his plate, Angel couldn't seem to get a handle on her father's new disposition. Jack hadn't cooked breakfast since before her mother died. Jack didn't greet her in the morning with pleasant surprises. And Jack most certainly didn't lick bacon grease off his fingers. Angel couldn't reconcile the image of the man before her with the memories of the one in her head. Ever since she arrived yesterday, there had been something off about the way her father acted. He was… nice. Of course, her father was never anything but 'nice' when dealing with people, but this was different. This wasn't him just being personable, this seemed genuine. And Angel didn't know what to do with genuine.
Angel was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was waiting for this doppelganger to disappear and for the father she had known to return. She had been so certain that things would be back to normal by the time she woke up, that her bags still sat on the floor awaiting their inevitable move to her real room. Memory loss was only temporary and she dared not hope that this situation would become permanent. The uncertainty hanging over her now was hurting more than the pain of her life before.
Her father finally slowed his chewing as he noticed her continuous stare. "Is there something on my face?" When she didn't answer he brought up a hand to wave in front of her face. "Sweetie, you alright?"
Time to end this. "You're acting strange."
Her father nearly dropped his fork before setting it down on his plate. "Whad'ya mean 'strange'?"
"Strange as in weird. You're not acting like yourself and this -" she gestured to the table, "- isn't you."
"Well you gotta remember, Honey, daddy had a bit of head trouble recently -"
"I get that, but how long is it going to stay like this? How long am I going to stay here… like this?"
Her father slowly wiped his face and hands clean with his napkin before meeting her eyes across the table. "Look, Angel. If this is about your room, then I want you to know that I do remember. I saw the blueprints for your 'room' last night when I was poking around in my office. I already visited it this morning and it's all complete and ready for you..."
So that's it then.
"... and you are never going to step foot in it. Ya got that? You're not gonna see it. You're not gonna think about it. You're not gonna worry about it." Her father's finger came down on the table each time to emphasize his point. Angel couldn't understand his apparent anger over the this. It didn't help that her heart was pounding so hard she could practically feel it in her ears. The emotional rollercoaster was threatening to give her whiplash.
"...You mean that?" She said after a short silence – needing to hear him confirm it.
"Of course I do. This is your place now." Her father finally settled back into his chair with a sigh. "Look Angel, I can't change the past, but I can promise that you will never end up there again. Is that okay?"
Angel didn't trust herself to speak, so instead her father got a nod of her head as she brushed away tears. He made to get up and close the distance between them, but she waved him back down before finally picking up her untouched fork. Taking a healthy bite, she nearly choked on laughter as the food met her tongue. It was cold now, but she found it hard to care.
The door to the apartment slid shut behind Timothy as he made his way towards the elevator. He tried to occupy his mind with ideas for the coming day, but instead found his thoughts drawn back to what he left behind in the apartment. Or, more precisely, who he left behind.
After their little 'heart-to-heart', the breakfast table had remained mostly devoid of conversation as Angel polished off her food. However, instead of the strained silence that had hung between them, it deepened into a more intimate atmosphere. She no longer looked like she was constantly on edge and had even given him a genuine smile as he watched her over the chink of cutlery.
For his part, Timothy had no idea what to say. The revelation that he was sitting across from a new daughter that could easily blow him apart with her mind, as well as the further revelation of Jack's plans for said daughter, had managed to double-team any thoughts he might've had and wrestle them into submission. Combined with the fact that he had come dangerously close to showing his hand just moments before, talking was the last thing he felt like doing. Taking the first opportunity, Timothy had excused himself from the table and had left Angel to her own devices under the pretense of having to go to work. Of course he needed to go to work eventually, but between paperwork and the increasing odds of blowing his cover, he decided to take his chances in the office.
All in all, he felt that breakfast had gone rather well.
There was a slight bounce in Timothy's step as he punched the button to call the elevator. Humming absently, it soon turned into a startled yelp as the doors slid open to reveal the fevered grin of Professor Nakayama.
"OH MY GOD – IT'S YOU! I haven't seen you in foreverrr! Okay, so maybe it was just five days but that's practically a lifespan to some insects."
Good feelings gone.
Timothy was way too tired to deal with the amount of energy this man was radiating. There was practically a hum in the air around the professor as he fixed a euphoric stare on Timothy; or maybe it was just that the man was hovering only inches away from him. Figuring that disinterest was his best defense, he tried to ignore the creepiness going on next to him as he boarded the elevator.
"Uhhh, heeey there, Nakayama. How's it -"
"WOW, YOU KNOW MY NAME!" Little specks of spittle flew from his mouth at his exclamation and Timothy decided he would definitely need a shower after this.
Wait a minute. Had Jack never called this guy by name? Maybe Jack had thought that using the man's name would be like feeding a stray animal: you just can't get rid of them afterward. Either that, or Jack really hadn't known the guy's name. After all, Timothy still wasn't sure what the secretary's name was. He decided that he was going to make it a point to find out a little more about her by the day's end.
"I'm sooo glad that I ran into you – not that I was waiting around here for the past couple days hoping to see you or anything." Oh god, he's still talking. "So I've been working on that 'Super Secret Project' we talked about. Remember? The one we talked about twoweeksfourdaystwelvehoursandthirtysixminutes ago – not that I was counting or anything. Anyways, I created a prototype based on that questionnaire you filled out. You know the compatibility index one? It turns out those are so accurate, you can use it to recreate someone's personality. FYI, we're eighty-six percent compatible – just thought you should know."
Timothy seriously questioned the validity of any questionnaire that said Jack and the man next to him were eighty-six percent compatible. And what did he mean by 'recreating a personality?' Against his better judgment – very against – he might need to spend more time around the professor to find out more about Jack's latest postmortem surprise.
"That is fascinating, but it looks like we're at my stop now and you know how those big-wigs get when you keep them waiting," Timothy lied. Anything to get away from his biggest fan. "How about I swing by later this week to check out your progress?"
"REALLY!? OH MY GOD THAT WOULD BE PERFECT."
Timothy was slightly impressed at how high the tone of Nakayama's voice had climbed in less than a sentence. If the professor had been a dog, Timothy was sure that he would have been madly wagging his tail as he pissed all over the floor in excitement.
"I'll have everything ready for you," he added breathlessly as Timothy imagined a lab lit only by candlelight with a soft saxophone solo playing in the background. As the elevator doors finally opened, Timothy tried his hardest to avoid looking like he was making a mad dash out of the elevator – mostly.
"I'll be waiting for you..." Nakayama called after his retreating form. "not that you're my everything or anything."
Timothy's speed walk – he wasn't running away – quickly brought him from the elevator into the office lobby. Where once the mad chatter of claptraps had carried down the hallway, the soft bubbling of a fountain now lent a soothing atmosphere to the redesigned waiting room. Making his way past the secretary's desk, his morning greeting was cut off when she gestured him over. Inhaling the scent of her perfume in such close proximity, Timothy figured that he might be getting the chance to learn a bit more than just her name. He was about to turn on the old 'Smoldering Jack' when her rushed whisper brought him up short.
"Sir, Tassiter is waiting for you in the office. I tried to keep him in the lobby, but he let himself in."
Shiiit. Timothy knew that he wasn't ready for this conversation. He'd been around Jack enough to know that the two men shared a relationship that might be described as 'adversarial.' Of course, the people who would call it that were also the same people that would term spacewalking without an Oz Kit as an 'ill conceived plan.' Timothy was suddenly less concerned with learning his secretary's name and more concerned with making it through the day.
"Riiight. Well Babe, don't worry your pretty little head about it. I've got this all under control. You just be ready with some coffee in about an hour 'cause this meeting's gonna be a biiitch."
"Yes, very good, Sir."
Timothy gave her a confident nod as she settled back into her chair with a relieved sigh. And why shouldn't she? I'm Handsome Fucking Jack. I'm the Number One on this station and no pretentious snob is going to ruin my day. Smoothing back his hair, he strode down the long hallway towards his office, mentally preparing himself to meet his fate.
As soon as he entered his office, Timothy noticed that his desk was already occupied. The president of Hyperion sat silhouetted against the darkness of space as he looked down on the planet below.
"Hello, John," Tassiter said evenly without sparing him a glance. "You're in awfully late this morning."
The prick still won't call me by my – well Jack's – name. "Oh, had some stuff to take care of - y'know, running a station and all that – I'm sure you understand… or maybe you don't." Timothy didn't miss a stride towards his desk. "And by the way, it's Jack, or can't you read the nameplate?"
"Nameplates are replaceable, John; almost as replaceable as people."
"Well some people are more easily replaced than others." Timothy splayed his hands on the desk and fixed Tassiter a smug smile. "You're in my chair."
"For now," Tassiter intoned as he uncrossed his legs and removed himself from the chair. He took his time circling the desk before seating himself and recrossing his legs with an air of superiority.
Timothy reclaimed his seat and scooted the chair back in the desk. Glancing back towards Tassiter, he suddenly noticed another occupant in the room. A tall and imposing figure dressed in a pewter overcoat stood sentinel-like near the information board at the corner of the room. The figure wore a helmet that blocked any attempt to discern facial features. Whoa, how long has this guy been here? Ignorant of whom this person was, likely a bodyguard working for Tassiter judging by the size, Timothy chose to ignore him for the time being. He tried to suppress the sudden wish that Wilhelm and Nisha were present to back him up.
"So, what you brings you to my space station?" Timothy was tired of mincing words.
"Helios Station belongs to Hyperion, John, and you would know why I'm here if you hadn't bothered to blow off my calls," Tassiter sniped.
"Yeah, we've been busy. Lots of cleanup to do, dead bodies to remove… you know the drill."
"Well, I'm surprised you didn't just throw them out the airlock. After all, it seemed to work well enough when you got rid of our four top scientists."
Fair enough, Timothy conceded. He certainly agreed with Tassiter on that point. "Look, it was a tense situation. I didn't know who to trust and I wasn't about to put the station at risk."
"Oh, but you did, didn't you you? Trust seems to be the issue here, John. You didn't trust us with information about your plans on Pandora. You didn't feel the need to let us know when Helios Station was under attack. And you certainly didn't inform us that you were building a planet destroying laser on our experimental research station. Clearly, trust does not go both ways for you. The Board may have supported you after your lucky strike on Pandora, but The Board does NOT like surprises; especially ones that hurt the company's bottom line."
He's right, Timothy mused to himself, Jack was a prick. It was the reason why his corpse was floating somewhere in space. He allowed Tassiter to seethe in silence for a moment as he contemplated his next move. He was backed in a corner with no way out. Maybe it was time to try a different tactic.
"Ya know what… you're right," Timothy said at last with sigh.
"Of course I'm right, you – wait, what?" Tassiter was rendered speechless.
"I said, you're right. I've been a bit of a douche lately and I feel that it's time for a change."
Tassiter's eyes narrowed impossibly further. If he didn't know any better, Timothy would think he was squinting at him. "What are you playing at, John?"
"Playing? Nothin'," Timothy shrugged. "No games, no tricks, no lies. How about we try a different approach."
"Such as?"
"Such as I bring 'The Board' on board. You guys know about my projects and plans, and you stop being a little bitch that tries to stonewall me at every turn. Deal?"
Tassiter considered him over the rim of his glasses with a sour look on his face, clearly suspicious that he was getting his way. "Perhaps, if you can follow through."
"Greaaat, now feel free to show yourself around the station. If you could be anywhere else but here, I've got some appointments I have to keep."
"If you think you can just get rid of me -"
"That's exactly what I think right now, but I'll give you the tour myself later if you can't stand being away from me."
"Fine, but don't think this conversation is over," Tassiter stood up from his seat with a sneer. Of course it's not because god forbid anyone but you gets the last word. Timothy watched Tassiter signal to his hulking bodyguard in the corner, and the pair silently left the office.
As soon as the door closed, Timothy collapsed back into his chair. Releasing an audible groan of frustration, he knifed his hands through his hair to release the mounting stress. Man, he really did need to spend some time with that secretary; all this tension was killing him.
A/N: Hey, us again. A few things to point out this chapter, most of which you've probably already noticed. We decided to retcon singularity grenades as not existing at the time of the Pre-Sequel. No major earth-shattering reason for this, purely just for our own amusement. When it came to Angel's backstory, we took elements where we could from the canon and expanded on them with our own ideas. Hopefully, you found our take on it interesting.
Now onto the big difference. Tassiter is still alive. It technically isn't truly a retcon because the games don't explicitly state when Jack killed him after the Pre-Sequel, only that he did on his rise to power. Given that the scene where Jack kills him takes place after the credits, it implies it took place at an indeterminate time after the game. So we ran with that since Tassiter makes for such a glorious asshole.
Another thing we have to address since we've been getting quite a few questions about this, is if we're going to incorporate elements from Tales from the Borderlands in our story. Simple answer: we don't know. Two episodes in doesn't give us enough of the narrative structure for us to know which plot details we could use. That, and the series itself takes place far into the future of the timeline. A timeline that may not exist by the time we're done.
Also, the sax music pictured in Timothy's mind is clearly Careless Whisper, the ONLY sexy saxophone music you will ever need.