Chapter 19 Back In Red

I look around at the Hyperion trade center, the rising star of Corporate history. I see it all. The people, the pizzazz, the proprietary! And all I can think to myself is Damn! What an eyesore…

Red is just not our color.

It's a petty, and fairly random thought, but in my head, I have this shining vision of Hyperion. Gold statues, yellow defenders, an office chair so bright that it's practically a throne. Then I blink, and all I can see is a bland, brick colored red.

Not even brick! It's more like maroon. Maroon! Are we trying to bore our customers?!

When I'm in charge, and I will be in charge (it's pretty much my destiny), I'm redecorating everything. With actual decorators, mind you. Sure, Claptraps might be cheaper, but they're about as artistically talented as a kindergartener on acid.

This may seem like a random, and some may even say deliberately distracting. Which it is.

You see, when I come to a problem that I find I have zero preparation for, I deflect. I distract, I evade, and I procrastinate. It's how I dealt with a lot of my parental responsibilities. Well, the unimportant ones anyway, like 'Is Santa real?' or 'What is sex?'.

Is it the most mature response? Absolutely not. But it does allow me to get away with not confronting my problems and leave them for other people to solve. Which is a big old check in the plus column.

Sadly, as much as I enjoy running away from reality, that doesn't always make my problems go away. Especially when there's nowhere to run, and even if they were, those problems would just chase me, like the annoying little parasites they are.

I am, of course, referring to Claptraps.

Oh, and also Dr. Tannis, Tassiter, and the whole heap of no-no's about the Vault. But in my defense, those problems aren't nearly as annoying.

"Wow! Look at everything! It's all so red!"

Fuck it! I think it's time for a timeout. "Claptrap! Initiate Morpheus Protocol. Begin sleep mode."

"Okay!" Claptrap cheerfully agreed… before simultaneously collapsing. And actually muttering "Zzz."

I'm tempted to scream at him that making that sound while occasionally releasing an audible snore, does not count as sleeping. But I stop myself because I'm paradoxically worried that it'd wake him up. Confusing, isn't it?

"John." Tassiter snarked. Yes, snarked. The man's so unbelievably snippy, that he turned the word snark into a verb. What (and I realize the irony of this) a jackass. "I see you've brought back a friend."

And rather than nod to the semi-respectable, if very intelligent Vault Expert/Doctor/Excavator, he unceremoniously, and literally kicked Claptrap in indication. Honestly, that just pisses me off more. For my sake. I would never befriend a Claptrap.

Must NOT kill him, until I run the company. Must not KILL HIM, until I run the company.

Slightly managing to dial in my murder vibes, I smirk back an empty smile. "Cute, Tassy. How long you been working on that one? Oh! Have you been practicing your banter skills again? They're getting better! But they're still lacking that one thing, what was it again?"

I mockingly stroke my metal chin in thought, undoubtedly pulling off a perfect villain pose.

"Hmm. Volume? No, I heard it. Wit? Eh, it was okay. Would have been better if you came up with it on the spot. Ah!" I snapped my fingers, smiling at my 'epiphany'. "Charm! You, my unlucky frenemy, are completely charmless."

"Am I, John?" Tassiter sneers back. To this day, he still rather persistently calls me by my birth name. Considering that Jack isn't even the name I'm most used to, this does very little to bother me. But it's adorable that he tries so hard.

"Pardon the interruption," Tannis interrupts, unapologetically. "But I believe that Jack and myself still need to review the contract of my employment."

"Oh?" Tassiter turns an uninterested eye on my most recent lackey- worker. "Pray tell, what precisely has John offered you? Seeing as he does not have nearly the authorization required to begin granting Hyperion jobs. Especially to Dahl trash-"

"Oh, on the contrary, boss." I refute, ending on a sarcastic note. "I've been permitted to hire as many long term 'independent contractors' as I want, for about oh two, maybe three years ago. You remember, right? It was around the time I made the Fast Travel, and you did… I'm sorry, I'm gonna need you to refresh my memory. What was the big important thing you did on your own?"

Tassiter actually turned a little red. Yikes, make that very red. Someone's trying to match corporate color. "Of note? I was busy running more than half the day by day functions, managing every single system that makes Hyperion great. While you played inventor."

"Right, right, right." I rapidly imagined it all coming back to me. "Sales were at an all-time low, under your oversight, I mashed up a few tools, and then bam! Highest gross profit we've made in years."

"You-" And he's sputtering again. How eloquent, classy, and most of all charming. Or you know, the exact opposite. "How dare you-!"

"Uh huh, sounds great Tassy." I tune him out, like a parent tuning out their kid's speech about who their favorite action figure is. "Hey, here's a thought, why don't you leave my screening process to me. Kay? I think I've got it handled better than you do."

"Indeed." Tannis cut in, seemingly unimpressed by our pissing match. "Then shall we continue, Jack? I grow weary of the numerous social stimuli plaguing this station."

That's Tannis speech for: I'm getting socially awkward, can we please go?

I'm going to allow it because I don't really want to be here anymore either. "Sure, hun."

We made it a few more steps before Tassiter called out. "And the Claptrap?" Huh? Oh, right.

"Blake!" I called into my echo device, scrolling to the contact I knew by heart.

"Yes, sir?" He responded dignified, within a moment's notice.

"There's a Claptrap back by the East Fast Travel. Bring him to my Office, I wanna do some… experimenting." Ah, God damnit, did that come off as sexual. "Make some improvements."

"Of course, sir." Blake obeys without question. That's a good stooge.

You know what they say, behind every great man, is a faithful servant, ready and willing to do his master's bidding. Palpatine had Vader, Lex Luthor had Mercy Graves, and Batman had Alfred. See! Heroes do it too.

"John!" Tassiter screeches, outraged and scandalized. What a prude. "You know damn well that the modification of any and all Hyperion equipment is forbidden, and punishable by-"

"Blow it out your ass, Tass." I dismiss with a roll of my eyes. "He was technically Dahl's when I found him. Besides, I'll get the whole thing cleared up with De Quidt, obviously." Well, I will now.

"You think you can simply excuse yourself from our regulations on a board member's approval." Tassiter seethed angrily. "That is not how this works, John. We have rules. Principals! If we allowed our employees to simply act however they wanted, we'd be even more incompetent than Tediore."

"Cool story, bro." In my old life, that phrase sadly went out of style, which really sucks because it completely captures what I wanted to say to boring people who wouldn't shut up. But here it's all hot and fresh, so I get to say it as much as I want!

Sometimes, I have to say it more than I want.

I mean really, how hard is it to get that I'm not interested in your dull, going nowhere story! Take me to where the action is! Not these empty paragraphs about nothing that serve mostly as filler. Am I right?

Shut up, I know I am.

…

Mordecai wasn't a hard man to get along with.

He wasn't demanding, he wasn't bossy, and he wasn't bitchy. He went with the flow, most of the time. You don't make it this far in life, without accepting that some things are just out of your control.

But for some reason, he never thought he'd have to worry about 'lack of control' from a car.

"What the hell is going on up there?!" Mordecai shouted over the roar of screeching tires, and the far more literal roar of the two ton, King Kong sized rhino. As far as monster movies go, he'd give it a B-

But given that he's now living it (and who knew that those massive feet with their massive stomps could cause miniature ground quakes) he'd rate it an A+, easy. Because this is literally the most terrifying thing he's ever done.

And he once jumped off a cliff to impale a different, slightly smaller, way more ferocious animal.

Which also happened under the command of the red headed Siren, that Jack yet again left in charge. Mordecai might be crazy, a common symptom from prolonged exposure to Pandora, but if he had to guess, there might be a pattern there.

He points that out to Lilith, who was less than pleased with the criticism. "Shoot first, bitch later, Mordecai!"

He is not bitchy, he thought he made that very clear. Just deeply, truly concerned. And terrified. Mostly terrified. "I can multitask!" Mordecai decides to argue back, childishly.

In truth, it's probably not Lilith's fault that they're fighting the love child of Satan and Pandora, but she's the boss now. And by now, it's practically instinctual for him to challenge authority. To her credit, she does make a pretty good point about the timing.

So, he decides to shoot a few rounds with his Sniper.

It wasn't super effective. Or a little effective. In fact, it did nothing. Except waste ammunition. Oops.

"Shoot at its eyes!" Roland commanded, manning a second turret (when did Jack get that installed?) and firing at its feet. "They're an Achilles heel!"

"Pretty sure heels are below the legs, Roland!" They can't see it under his goggles, but his eyes were rolling. Idiots. "In case you haven't noticed, it's eyes are on its face."

Lilith groaned loudly, and it took him a second to realize she wasn't doing it out of pain. "It means weak spot, dumbass!"

Oh. Right, he totally knew that.

Except for the part where its eyes are supposed to be the weak link because that's bullshit. "It has four eyes made of pearls. How is that supposed to be a weak point?!"

"Do you have any better ideas?!" Lilith screamed back, steering them around in circles frantically. And he thought Jack was a bad driver.

"OOH! I got an idea! I got one!" Brick cheered, still happily firing into the sides of the behemoth. "We can hit it until it dies-"

"No!"x3

The resounding disapproval brought a small pout to his face. "Jeez. I was just trying to help."

Great. Now Mordecai feels a little bad.

Maybe he just needs to try a little positive reinforcement. "It wasn't a bad idea, amigo. But that thing is a bit too big for the tried and true approach. We're gonna need something more concrete, okay?"

Brick frowned. "Okay. But where are we going to find concrete out here?"

Fuck it, he tried.

"Just." Mordecai sighed dismayed. "Just keep shooting it."

"Okay!"

Guess he should do the same. Aiming at an eye, which even despite the size, it's still extremely far away, and factoring for every bump, turn, and screech of the Technical doesn't make it an easy shot.

But he shoots it anyway. Because Mordecai is a certified badass. You can check, it's on his license.

It doesn't fall, the Rakk Hive doesn't even look affected, unless you count aggravated or annoyed as 'affected'. So, he shoots it again. And again. This time, cracks start to appear, and it's noticeably much more pissed off.

The next shot shatters it's pearl eye.

It releases an inhuman (obviously) cry, that straightens the hairs on Mordecai's back. Well, one eye down. Three more to go.

So, repeating the age old process of hit and run (mostly the run part) he takes out another eye, and now it's down to two. Just like the rest of the mammals. Personally, given how well he's done with just two eyes, he still doesn't like those odds.

Mordecai was unfortunately proven right, when it was still very capable of both seeing them and charging them. It was at that moment when the found out the Technical was not built for speed. "Lil', go faster!"

"I'm going as fast as I can! You shoot faster!" Lilith may have put on an annoyed front, but the panic in her voice betrayed that she was just as alarmed as he was. Which did not improve his confidence.

He shot faster. Most of the rounds actually missed, but he did manage to take out the last eye on the left. The one on the right still remained, and it zeroed it's glare on Mordecai specifically.

You remember how before, he said that fighting this thing was the most terrifying thing he's ever done? He's gonna have to take that back. Being on top of a Rakk Hive's shit list is way scarier.

The Rakk Hive also wisened up to the fact that they small ape-like creatures were trying to blind it. It took losing seventy-five percent of its eyes to catch on to that, but hey, better late than never. Especially when it learned to move its last remaining eye away from that direction.

This caused an unintended side effect, of literally charging in blind.

Like, it went the wrong way. Mordecai was honestly a little dumbfounded. "Uh, Lil', it's just kinda leaving. Can we go?"

"No." Lilith answered, just as shocked, but way more pessimistic. "It still has the Vault Key fragment. It's the whole reason we came here."

"Right, right." Mordecai mumbled, still looking at the direction the Rakk Hive went after, dust blazing behind it. "So, what do we…?"

"We're going after it." Lilith said resolutely. "Roland, Brick, see if you can find a bigger gun on this thing. It's not going down without a fight."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Okay, boss!"

Mordecai wasn't sure how, but he was pretty sure that this was all Jack's fault.

…

Tassiter hated John.

Well, no actually, hate isn't the right word. As a child, he learnt that hate was a very strong word. It was a word he shouldn't use to describe anything let alone people, because that could greatly hurt someone's feelings.

Then that child grew up into a very bitter man, and that man learned that he hated everything. What was once a dislike, or an ill preference, became something he despised, something he could not stand the sight of. So naturally, hate became a very common word in his repertoire.

Tassiter hated people pleasers, he hated employees with sob stories, he hated his job (despite how well it pays), he hated puppies, and kittens, and rainbows. He also hated politics, but in his defense, who doesn't?

So, no. Hate isn't nearly strong enough to describe his view of John.

Tassiter loathed John.

He abhorred the man, he despised him with his every ounce of being. And Tassiter was certain the feeling was mutual. Why else would John try so desperately to make his life unbearable. Working with former Dahl employees and products to fight Atlas in a bid for a planet that Tassiter wouldn't send his worst enemy to?

Well… no he wouldn't. After all, John wanted to go to Pandora.

"Pandora is a goldmine." John insisted to the board, who were actually listening to his preposterous dribble. "Hell, it's better than a goldmine! Once we crack that Vault open-"

"If you can." Tassiter interrupted the fool's pitiful defense. "You have one team, with less numbers than I can count on my hand. Atlas has sent an army. Dahl has sent a legion. Both have failed to tame the world. What makes you think you can do what they couldn't?"

"Atas opened one Vault, once." John glared at him. "It made them rich beyond their wildest imagination, and they were only able to do it with the help of some Pandoran nobody-native. I have four Vault Hunters, a scientific expert whose studied the Vault and the Eridians intensively. I can do this."

"Agreed." Maxim fucking Turner, allows with his chilling Cheshire grin. "Jack has time and again proven himself quite capable. From what he's told us, he's almost completely rebuilt the Vault Key already. Soon, our company will soar to heights not seen since the rise of Atlas."

Alma Harren nodded along, and inside Tassiter's rage kept growing. "Will you need additional forces? Atlas already has a foothold, it may be prudent of us to strike before they can regroup and deploy re-enforcements."

"Appreciated, but I got it handled." John waves away the generous offer, as if he were simply offered a lozenge. "The Vault Hunters I hired are exceptionally good at killing bad guys."

"Funding?" De Quidt briefly inquires, his eyes and true focus, still on his Echo. Whether the man was playing some asinine mobile game or providing an actually useful service to the company was a mystery all on its own.

"Nope." Informal, disrespectful John assures. "I'll be paying for this all out of pocket."

"Well then, Jack, I believe I speak for all of us when I say we salute you." Turner did not speak for all of them. Didn't stop the bastard from shaking John's hand like a president would for a public hero. "Take Pandora, Jack. Make us proud!"

"You got it, boss." John smirked, he smirked at him.

All this aggression is going to be hell on his blood pressure.

Tassiter didn't remember leaving the room. In fact, all he could recall was that his blood was running hot, his vision was coming up red, and when he came out of it, he was surrounded by three dead Claptraps.

Not surprising. He was never particularly fond of the things, and in his current mood, well.

Tassiter's a little surprised he didn't kill more.

Not that it would have truly mattered if he did. Claptrap lives were as meaningless as they were useless. For the life of him, he couldn't begin to understand why John brought one with him.

Wait. John did bring one back, didn't he? How curious.

Perhaps it was time for Harold Tassiter to do a little experimenting of his own.

…

And CUT!

I just realized how well that goes with my last line about 'experimenting', don't you love it when moments like these just happen? It feels like the stars align to bring you to this moment.

Or, you know, it could be the semi outline a poor inexperienced Author is forming.

My moneys on the first one, though.

Once again, I'd like to thank you all for all the support, the views, the reviews, it's all very flattering. It gives me just the sweetest ego boost!

Anyways, I'm trying not to pad the word count by answering every review anymore, but I can't help but answer a few. What can I say? You guys put a lot of work into these things.

To HelpingHand: Yes, I eat every comment I find. They are the source of my power. I will not stop until I have consumed every reaction in the entire world.

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