"The color palette is rather… drab here, isn't it?" Blake remarked at Wilhelm's shoulder.

"Yep, lotta green," Wilhelm agreed. From the leather chairs to the military dress uniforms that every other person seemed to wear, there really was a lot of fucking green.

For a moment, it looked like Blake was about to say something else before he peered out the window and remained silent as yet again another attempt at small talk was stifled. Blake had tried to draw Wilhelm into conversation throughout their whole trip – with no success. Not that he could be bothered to give a damn. He wasn't paid to talk. Instead, he turned his attention to the flurry of activity down below.

A labyrinth of uniform cubicles spread out just below the window of the waiting room. Swap all the greens and olives for yellow, and the Dahl Headquarters could just as easily have been mistaken for a Hyperion building. Of course, there were subtle differences. Instead of the minimalistic weapon posters that adorned Hyperion stations, the Dahl posters all depicted military men and women shooting their guns heroically into the distance. Wilhelm gave a small grunt of approval. Way more badass.

"The Board will see you now," the secretary dressed in a camouflage skirt called from her desk. Another thing he approved of. Nice.

With one last appreciative glance, Wilhelm followed Blake into the boardroom. A long curved table facing two empty chairs greeted them. The three members of The Board sat ramrod-straight in silent contemplation as Wilhelm slumped into his seat and Blake folded himself neatly into the chair beside him.

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice," Blake smiled thinly with a tug of his tie. "I trust you've gone over our offer–"

Of the three members, it was the man on the far right covered in so many medals you'd think he was trying to use them as armor that responded. "'Offer'?" He gestured to the piece of paper that lay in front of them. "You call this shit an offer? I've seen Terms of Surrender more generous than this."

'Cause it is a surrender, moron. This wasn't fun at all. Tassiter had clearly overestimated his need to be here. Still, if they wouldn't accept Blake's carrot, he was all too happy to give them the stick.

"I assure you, Mr. Puller–" Blake began.

"General Puller," the man in question interrupted.

"General Puller," Blake amended. "I can assure you that our offer was made in good faith."

"You'll have to explain how giving up our rights to a planet for peanuts is considered a fair offer," said the man seated between his two colleagues. The President of Dahl looked surprisingly unassuming considering he ran a company based around a military image. Tiny and wrapped in a black suit, Wilhelm figured he must have used a booster seat to sit as high as the other two at the table. Every company needed its eggheads though.

"Mr. Patton, our compensation offer was quite generous in light of recent events. Dahl military personnel attacked our station and incurred extensive damages to both the station and our employee workforce. In lieu of trying to claim monetary damages, we are simply trying to claim something of nearly equivalent value," Blake stated calmly. "I believe it's in both our best interests to resolve matters between our companies without having to resort to… costly legal methods."

Wilhelm didn't need to understand every word that had come out of Blake's mouth to know that Dahl was in deep shit. Basically: you're fucked.

"You know as well as I do that this so called 'Lost Legion' was not operating under Dahl directive at the time of those events," stated the woman on the left in a voice that managed to grate on Wilhelm like nails on a chalkboard. Vice President Rascova would make one hell of a dominatrix. "You have no evidence that could possibly implicate our company."

"Well, let's see…" Wilhelm began to count off on his fingers. "They had Dahl guns, Dahl uniforms, Dahl tech, and Dahl ships. I'd say there's more than a bit of 'implication' there."

"We're not denying they acted with our equipment, only that they didn't act on our orders," Rascova countered.

"Then what are we doin' here?" Wilhelm shrugged. "If you were so sure we didn't have anything, then we wouldn't be doing this. Obviously, you're thinking the offer over. So how 'bout the three of you quit cock teasin' and tell us what you really want so we can get outta here."

"Excuse me, Mr. Blake, but who is this?" Patton pointed an accusing finger at Wilhelm.

Blake soothed his temples for a moment before replying, "This would be my assistant, Wilhelm. He's here to oversee our negotiations."

"I don't recall ever having an assistant takeover negotiations before," blustered the General.

"Probably about the last time Dahl had a military presence in the Borderworlds," Wilhelm snorted.

"My uncouth companion has a point," Blake did a good job at concealing his impatience. "Dahl cannot muster the military power to stop Hyperion from using the planet in any manner that we see fit. Our offer is a mere formality at this point. If you wish to try and challenge us, you're more than welcome to do so. I'm sure my companion would be all too happy to show you just how… capable we are."

The members of The Board remained silent for several seconds before turning their chairs around and whispering amongst themselves. Wilhelm noted with a sense of satisfaction that the General's whispers were much less quiet than the other two. He glanced over at Blake, who looked smugly at the back of the chairs. Huh. I guess the suit has a spine after all. Several minutes later, the chairs turned back around. This time, things went much smoother.

Ten minutes later, the two of them walked out of the boardroom, a grin on Wilhelm's face and an envelope in Blake's hand.

"That went well," Wilhelm observed.

"Quite," Blake agreed.

Tassiter refilled his wine glass from the freezer and surveyed the surroundings of his newly decorated residence. It had taken the better part of two days for all of the furnishings he'd ordered to arrive, but the Art Deco styling suited his tastes much better than the gaudy wood and leather of its previous owner. Making his way back down the hallway and into the empty doorway of his office, he was once again reminded that he'd have to install a new door sooner rather than later. Once again seating himself in front of the computer – of a much newer and less destroyed variety – he resumed his trek through John's secrets.

As disorganized as the rest of his office had been, the information from John's computer was meticulously organized. Some of the files were fragmented compared to others where Nigel had recovered content that Lawrence had attempted to delete. With his task complete, Tassiter had dismissed Nigel to do… whatever it was he did on his free time. He didn't care enough to dwell on it.

Now, Tassiter was slowly making his way through the files adorning the desktop in search of something he might use. Ideas that were too wasteful or impractical were quickly trashed while others that showed potential were moved to the side until he could add his own personal touch to them later. The BNK3R? Looking at the mostly complete contents of the folder, he was quick to move that one over to the 'keep' side. Of course the cost was ridiculous, but he was sure there were ways to cut that back. It was an expensive design – though not nearly as expensive as the building it was supposed to guard.

"What the hell is this thing?" He mused aloud as he skimmed through the file labeled The 'Control Core.' The fortress – and it was a fortress – was the most heavily secured location he'd ever seen, but it seemed to have no discernible purpose. It looked like some kind of a prison, but considering John's contempt for bandits, why would he bother to keep any of them alive? For that matter, what use could he have for torturing them? From what he was seeing, it looked like the machine at its center could serve no other function.

Scrolling further down, the name 'Angel' was referenced several times. Backing out to the desktop, Tassiter opened up a search for the name. Astounded by the sheer amount of results he got, he clicked one at random.

A familiar face instantly greeted him at the top of the page. "It's the girl…" Skimming through the text below, he nearly choked as he realized what he was seeing and his wine glass tipped over in his haste to set it back on the desk. Wine ran over the top of the desk and down the side, but Tassiter didn't notice.

"John you clever bastard." Tassiter had known. He'd always known. He'd known that John had been getting help all these years. And what better help could you ask for? A Siren. An actual Siren. And not just any Siren: his daughter no less.

...And he had practically signed her death warrant.

Tassiter's chair slammed against the wall as he pushed himself out from under the desk in his hurry to reach his bedroom. Snatching his ECHO device off his dresser, he frantically skimmed through his contacts until he found the Skanky Cowgirl. He rapidly paced back and forth in his room as he waited for the call to connect. After the call failed to go through, he dialed again.

By the third call, Tassiter's patience was so frayed that he couldn't even think of a snide insult other than, "Pick up you bitch!"

Her obnoxious answering machine was his only response. Giving it up as a lost cause, he finally settled onto the bed and straightened his smoking jacket. Slowly massaging his temples, Tassiter fumbled around in his mind as he pondered another course of action. After a moment, his thoughts turned to his other recently acquired employee.

Straightening his glasses and slicking back his hair, he waited for his new call to connect across the light-years that separated them. On the second ring, Wilhelm answered, "Wilhelm."

Tassiter didn't waste any time, "I need you to come back to the station, Blake will have to handle the negotiations on his own."

Wilhelm's image shrugged, "Oh that? We're done."

Finally, good news. "Really? That was… far more efficient than I expected."

"Yup."

"Excellent work. How soon can I expect you back?"

"'Couple days."

Tassiter internally winced. He had his doubts that Lawrence or John's daughter would last that long. "Well, I need you to encourage that pilot to hurry up. Feel free to persuade him any way you like; I need you here now."

"What's goin' on, Boss?"

"Plans have changed, Wilhelm. Everything's changed."

"Whatever you say," Wilhelm didn't press for more details and the call promptly disconnected.

With a tired sigh, Tassiter uncharacteristically allowed himself to flop back onto the bed. As he stared up at the smooth metal of the ceiling, a slow wry smile twisted his features at the direction his thoughts were going. He actually found himself hoping that Lawrence was capable enough to avoid Nisha… at least, for a little while longer.

Timothy sat and watched the shadows move along the hotel walls as the ceiling fan slowly turned above. He lounged silently against the headboard while Angel napped at the foot of the bed. He couldn't understand how she could be asleep after all the sleeping she had done on the ride. Then again, he wasn't about to hold it against her after the events of the last couple of days.

All things considered, their afternoon shooting session went smoothly enough once she relaxed and quit dismissing his attempts to help her. It wasn't like he didn't understand her frustration: he had been a noob at one point too. In fact, thinking about it, he realized that it hadn't been that long ago either – not that she needed to know that.

Of course, there was no way Timothy could have known that being Jack also meant being a bodyguard/bullet-magnet. That definitely hadn't been brought up before he signed the contract. No, they waited until after he signed the paperwork and gotten a face-change to drop that little bit of information. His crash course in self defense had hit him harder than a kick in the nuts. He'd like to think that his brand of instruction was a hell of a lot nicer than his own trainer's had been. Besides, she was still doing better than he had.

Timothy glanced at his watch and noted with some relief that the train was due to arrive in another fifteen minutes or so. He probably should have woken up Angel earlier, but he didn't feel like dealing with her judgment for longer than he had to. It seemed like any time they spent more than a few minutes talking to each other, she'd eventually snap at him and get angry. It felt like the only time he could ever get any other kind of response from her is if he actually managed to surprise her.

He considered waking her up via a pillow to the back of her head for a surprise, but ultimately decided that the short lived entertainment wouldn't be worth the long angry train ride he'd experience later. Instead, he nudged her shoulder with his foot and waited for a response. After receiving nothing more than a few mumbled words and a sleepy hand-wave, he nudged her a little harder.

"Angel. Angel," Timothy insisted. "Time to wake up."

Angel sighed and pushed herself up from the bed. "How much time do we have?"

"About fifteen minutes if it's on time," he stood up slowly and worked out the kinks in his back.

"The trains are automatic: they're always on time," she said as she slipped on her shoes.

"Well, there ya go," he shrugged on his jacket. "Don't forget your stuff."

"You're the one carrying it."

"Oh – right. Forgot." Timothy dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a storage deck unit and an ECHO device. "I bought this with some of the money from earlier. Now you don't have to borrow mine when you wanna play a game. Also, I did you the favor of putting all your stuff and your gun in here. After all, it isn't much use if you don't have it on you." He tossed them both her way.

"Great," she still sounded less than enthused at the prospect. "Thanks." She clipped the items onto her belt and walked through the open door he held out for her without another word.

The main street was crowded with miners getting off their shift for the day, Hyperion personnel waiting for the train, and other people toting bags loitering around the station. Timothy ducked his head even lower. Bandanna or not, he didn't want anyone recognizing his face. Angel once again stuck to him like a shadow through the crowd of people and Timothy couldn't help but try to put her at ease.

"Relax," he suggested. "The worst part is over – we already made it out of a desert. From here on out, it's a train stop and a couple car rides and you'll be with your Vault Hunter buddies in no time."

"We're not there yet," she mumbled.

Timothy snorted and the smelly bandana flapped on his chin. "Well aren't you just a ray of sunshine. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Everything," she deadpanned.

Blowing off her negative response, Timothy directed his attention to the giant digital clock counting down the train's arrival. Someone needs to teach her about the power of positive thinking. The next few minutes passed uneventfully until the boom of the train's horn reached them. The train rumbled to a stop before them and after a few moments, the doors opened as a new river of people parted through the crowd.

"Once everyone's unloaded, we'll check in our tickets and claim our seats -"

"I call window seat," Angel cut him off.

Damn, I shoulda thought of that. "Fiiine," he sighed. "But I'm making you drive once we get off." Timothy was too busy being amused by Angel's horrified expression at the prospect to notice the shadow creeping up on them.

"...Jack?" Came a voice that Timothy thankfully didn't recognize.

Timothy slowly turned around. "...Nooo?"

Timothy was greeted with the sight of a young man whose very appearance screamed Hyperion judging by the pinstriped shirt and hexagons. What's with Hyperion and hexagons? Also, the guy had a bright yellow arm – a little ostentatious in Timothy's opinion.

"Ohmygod, it is you!" The man swung out his arm to grab Timothy's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Never thought I'd see you on Pandora. I'm Rhys, by the way. I'm the liaison to all the 'non-corporate' mining operations going on down here."

"Oh, of course you are!" Timothy pumped his arm right back. "How'd ah… how'd you recognize me?" He was slightly miffed that the bandanna and the hair dye wasn't enough to throw this guy off. If he could spot him through a crowd, so could anyone else looking for him.

"Oh, I'd recognize your voice anywhere. Besides, it's not like a lot of people have this going on," Rhys pointed to his eyes and Timothy restrained the urge to smack himself. Of course his eyes were going to stick out. It wasn't like heterochromia was a common trait. "I decided to stand out with different colors when I got the ECHOeye installed since you made it look so awesome."

Well, that wasn't creepy at all. "Glad to have such dedicated workers like you on the team."

Rhys seemed to preen at the compliment. "Well, y'know I did increase the efficiency of our operations out here by seventeen percent. But hey, who's counting?"

That number would probably be far more impressive if Timothy had any idea what their operations out here even were, but he nonetheless nodded appreciatively. "Well, good on you, Slugger! If all of my people had that kind of attitude, I wouldn't have to show up down here and deal with things personally, but that's ahhh-a little above your pay grade."

Rhys' brows rose up curiously. "Oh, of course not, Sir. But if you were to need any help, I know the area better than anyone around."

"Thanks for the offer, Bud, but I pretty much got everything under control," Timothy glanced back at the train trying to think of a way to shake off the chatty fanboy, when a much more familiar face caught his eye; he'd recognize that cowboy hat anywhere.

Nisha stood less than a hundred feet away from them and was slowly moving along the train, checking out the boarding passengers. Fuuuuuuck. Timothy tried not to let the sudden grip of panic show on his face as he casually pulled Angel behind him. With only a second's hesitation, Angel caught on and didn't pull away. Thinking quickly, Timothy plastered a grin on his face and slipped his arm around the fanboy's shoulder.

"On second thought, maybe you can help me out," Timothy began. "See, I got this problem – kinda embarrassing, really. Look behind you real quick." Rhys glanced back nonchalantly and he continued, "You see the fox in the cowboy hat? Yeaaah, that's my ex. Things didn't exactly end well between us and she's a bit of a psycho. Mind doin' me a solid and keep her occupied while we get on the train?"

"She uhhh... she looks pretty scary," Rhys looked over at him in confusion. "How do I do that?"

"Pssh. C'mon, I'm pretty sure a guy like you can come up with plenty of ways to keep a lady occupied," Timothy chuckled and gave Rhys an encouraging slap on the ass. "Go get 'em, Champ."

"For you, yeah – sure. Anything." Straightening back his shoulders, Rhys gave him a confident nod and began to cut his way through the crowd.

Timothy spared him just a second's head start before quickly turning back and clasping Angel by the shoulders. "Time to go. Now."

Angel followed him as he brushed people aside to reach the train's door. "What was that for?"

"I wasn't lying: that's my ex – well, Jack's ex," he replied. "It's uhhh, it's complicated… I'll explain later."

"She doesn't look like his type," Angel glanced back before he grasped her by the hand and pulled her along.

Coming up to the entrance for one of the cars, he scanned their tickets into the terminal and dragged her inside. "Oooh, no. They were like two – two psychotic peas in a pod!"

The interior of the train was surprisingly spartan and incredibly crowded. Squeezing past a few passengers still getting seated in the middle of the aisle, Timothy quickly found their seats and unceremoniously deposited Angel next to the window.

"There ya go; one window seat as ordered," he said and slumped into the seat at her side to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. "Alright, look outside and find out what's going on."

Angel turned and stared out the window while Timothy stared at her. It was like a staring contest. Except that it wasn't. "Well? Is Rhys alive?"

"Well, he's talking to her," Angel's description wasn't very helpful. "But she doesn't seem very happy."

That's my boy! "And…?"

"Aaand... she punched him. It looked like it hurt."

Well, A for effort. Timothy actually felt slightly bad about that one. If he ever got out of this one alive, he'd owe Rhys… something. The train began to make a beeping sound as all of the car doors slid shut with a thunk.

"Well, it looks like we dodged a bullet with that one," Timothy sighed. "You think they serve drinks on this train, 'cause I could reeeally go for one right now." After a couple moment's silence, he glanced back to see Angel still staring out the window. "Angel?"

"She's looking at me."

Timothy's feeling of panic snapped back so quickly, he swore he could feel it in his neck. "What?"

"She's looking right at me," Angel still didn't look away. "I think… I think she knows me."

How could Nisha could possibly know about… shit. Of course they'd know about Angel. There were cameras all over Helios Station and any one of them could have seen her during their escape. They didn't have to know what she was to know what she looked like. This entire time Timothy had been so busy trying to hide himself that he hadn't thought about the need to hide Angel.

As the train slowly lurched beneath them, he hoped against hope that Nisha wasn't as crazy as he worried she was. "That's fine. It's fine. We're already on the train, she can't do anything."

His delusion was short-lived. "She's chasing after us," Angel continued.

"Godfuckingdammit!"

Angel ignored Timothy's outburst for the most part as she watched the cowgirl leap onto the train out of her line of sight. "She's jumped onto the train. I can't tell where."

Timothy groaned in frustration. "Y'know, you're awfully calm about this."

Angel glanced back to find him pulling himself out of the seat and followed suit. "Well, she's after you, not me."

"No, she's after us. And Nisha doesn't leave survivors," he ground out. "C'mon, we need to get further up the train."

"And go where? She'll catch up to us eventually, why not fight her here?" Angel was becoming increasingly aware that they were garnering attention from the other passengers.

"Because she'll kill me." Timothy was getting near hysterical – something of a trend of his she was starting to tire of.

"You killed all of those bandits. At once. On your own. How can one person give you trouble?" Timothy had grabbed her arm and was starting to drag her down the aisle towards the front of the train. Angel was starting to tire of this too.

Timothy stopped so short Angel stumbled against him until he caught her by the shoulders with a panicked look in his eye. "Those were bandits. Nisha is not a bandit. Nisha kills bandits like you pluck eyebrow hairs. I am nothing compared to her."

That admission alone was enough to give Angel pause. If the man she had seen kill dozens of bandits in the blink of an eye was scared, it was enough to make her worried. "Okay. So what's your plan?"

Timothy paused for a moment as his eye twitched. "No idea. Let's just keep moving forward."

Allowing Timothy to her drag her along, Angel could see the heads of the other passengers peek over the seats and into the aisle as they brushed past. As they passed through the doorway to the next car, they suddenly heard a gunshot behind them followed by an extremely irate voice shout, "Everybody down or I put you down!"

A scream was quickly stifled as the door slid shut behind them. "Okay subtlety's gone. Gun time." At the sign of Angel's hesitation, he nodded at her. "That means you too."

Angel reluctantly followed suit and the pearlescent pink sheen of the gun appeared in front of her as it phased into her hand. She hoped she didn't have to actually shoot anyone. Not that she'd actually hit anything with it anyway.

"Okay, you first; I follow," Timothy gestured ahead of him with his gun. "If I get shot, go to the cargo hold, hide in some dark corner, and pray you don't see her. If you do: shoot her, and pray you don't miss."

What happened to his unflappable optimism? His panic was starting to become infectious and all she could think about was the hour or so of training he gave her earlier today. Her feeling of triumph when she had finally managed to hit that sheet metal target consistently, felt worthless now. She couldn't even hit that psycho that had been standing less than ten feet away from her, how could she even stand a chance against Nisha on her own? 'Pray you don't miss,' he said. What kind of advice was that?

Timothy gave her a push. "Angel – move."

Angel almost dropped the gun in her hand at his touch. She hadn't realized she was frozen in place until she stumbled forward and into the next car. The passengers seemed to already have been expectantly waiting for someone to burst in through the doors because they promptly began shouting at the sight of their guns. People ducked into their seats to make themselves as small as possible as they ran past.

"'Scuse me, coming trough, out of the way! People with guns here!" Timothy needlessly waved said gun around.

Despite everything, Angel could feel the flush of embarrassment in her face. And he thought my 'pink gun' wouldn't be intimidating enough? He's the one looking stupid right now. Rather than waste her breath clueing him in on this, she plowed onward.

Another scream behind them was the only warning they had before the sound of gunfire filled the cabin. Angel heard Timothy stagger a couple of times behind her as his shield flared blue at the edges of her vision. Slamming into the doorway at the end of the car, they were brought to a standstill as they waited for the door to open. Timothy turned around and snapped off a couple bursts of fire in Nisha's direction and she was forced to duck into a seat. As the door slid open behind her, Angel grabbed the back of Timothy's multiple collars and dragged him into the connecting bridge with her. Metallic sounds were heard as bullets embedded themselves into the closing door.

Angel raked her eyes over Timothy's body. "Are you okay?"

Timothy nodded absently. "Yeah, the shield held, but we can't do that again."

As the door to the next door opened ahead of them, the two of them rushed into into the next car. Instead of the glass windows and passengers, the dimly lit car was all metal walls and steel crates.

Timothy took one look at their surroundings before pulling her into a huddle. "Okay, this is it. I'll throw out a couple of my holograms to distract her, and you and I try to ambush her when she comes through. Sound good?"

No, that sounds terrible. And yet, Angel could only nod because she didn't trust herself to do anything else.

"You get on that side of the doorway, I'll get behind this crate. That way we can get her from two sides," Timothy seemed calmer now that things were decided. This was their 'last stand', so to speak, and Angel's anxiety only seemed to grow in comparison. Suddenly, the sound of their heavy breathing was drowned out as Timothy's holograms burst into existence. With no one else in the room besides Timothy, they immediately focused on her.

"Heeey there good lookin', bet you wish you could hit this!"

"So tell me, do you shoot like a girl?"

"Wait wait – is that a pink gun? I give up."

My dad designed these? She should have been disappointed, but honestly, Angel was hardly surprised. Trying to ignore the way they kept leering at her, she turned her attention to the doorway… only to realize the obvious. She reached out and pressed her hand against the door's control panel and began to concentrate. A white glow lit up the room as her consciousness extended outwards and into the door's control mechanism. She could vaguely hear Timothy's voice in the background, but ignored it as she pressed deeper into the coding for the door. Finding the section she needed, she altered the function slightly before she allowed herself to drift back to her body. The entire process was completed in seconds.

"Angel! What are you doing?" Timothy hissed.

Angel turned around, buoyed by the feeling of triumph. "I sealed the door."

Timothy stood there for a long moment while his clones compared each other's new outfits. "And you couldn't have done this I dunno… maybe on the last car!?"

"I hadn't thought of it yet – and neither did you!" Angel reminded him. It'd been hard to think of anything while she had been panicking.

As if on cue, a sudden thumping sounded from the door. The metal pings of gunfire riddled the door and Timothy spared a doubtful look in its direction. "I don't think that's gonna stop her for long."

"We need to get to the head of the train," Angel said, struck with sudden inspiration. "I know how to get rid of her."

"Oh good, I was starting to worry there for a moment."

They left the banging door behind them and continued on into the crowded cargo hold. Pushing, squeezing, and even climbing over the assorted crates, they came to the doorway at the other end. For good measure, Angel sealed that door as well before entering the next car. The dull thrum of the engine in their ears signaled that they had reached their destination. They barely made it a dozen steps into the car before they heard the muffled thump of an explosion behind them.

"Sounds like Nisha lost her patience," Timothy said blithely. "Let's hurry this up."

Too out of breath to respond, Angel put away her gun since she had no need of it and made her way to the cockpit's control panel. An array of switches, dials, and displays lit up the board in front of her. Laying her arms on top of the panel, the familiar white glow of her power once again filled the room as she dived into the train's control system.

"So you gonna tell me what the plan is now or…?"

"One second," Angel said, distracted. The train gave a sudden lurch accompanied by a dull screeching sound that was gone almost as quickly as it came. Satisfied, Angel backed out of the system and turned to an expectant Timothy. "I disconnected the rest of the train."

"Oh," Timothy blinked in surprise. "Well, that is a good plan. Now we can just ride this thing into the sunset."

A bang against the glass window startled them both as – a now hat-less – Nisha dangled off the front of the train. Grinning madly, she pressed her revolver against the glass and opened fire. Spiderwebs spread across the glass as the bullet lodged inside. Her grin turned into a feral snarl as she unloaded the revolver into the glass.

Timothy aimed his gun at the cracking glass and shouted, "Angel, do something!"

Slapping her hand back against the controls, Angel dove into the system again. Scrambling around, she struggled to find the command she needed among Timothy's shouts and the cackling of Nisha's insane laughter. Tiny slivers of glass rained down on her, but she didn't dare break her concentration. Finally finding what she was looking for, she looked up just in time to see Nisha's grin morph into a horrified expression as she flew off the suddenly decelerating train. Angel watched her body silhouetted by blue light as her shield shattered from the force of her impact against the tracks. The train came to a stop fifty feet away and after an endless second, Nisha began to push herself up onto her hands and knees an inch at a time.

Angel glanced back at Timothy to check if he was alright, only to find him staring intently out the window at Nisha, his hands tight over the back of the pilot's chair. "Angel... drive."

"What do you mean 'drive'? She's still on the tracks."

"I can see that, Angel. Now drive." His voice took on an uncharacteristically firm edge.

For the first time since she found out who he was, she was afraid of Timothy. She'd seen him erupt in anger before, but she had never seen him be so cold. It was uncanny how much he actually did remind her of her father like this… but he wasn't her father. And that made all the difference.

Angel stepped away from the controls. "No."

Timothy sat down in the seat and began to search the control panel. "She was trying to kill us."

"And now she's not," Angel countered just as coolly.

Timothy's reply held no emotion, "But she will if we let her." He finally found what he was looking for and the train engine shuddered to life as it began to move forward. "I won't give her that chance."

Refusing to see more bloodshed, Angel looked away from Nisha's rapidly approaching body. She understood his reasoning, so she didn't try to stop him, but that didn't mean she was ready to do it herself. The train continued into the twilight in silence, neither of them wanting to speak.

A/N: Choo choo motherfuckers! Thus concludes the great Borderlands train ride. Not much to address here other than, in our version of the world, shields take a bit longer to recharge. The high-end models maybe take a good 15-20 seconds, while lower-end models would take about 30. This is because if shields constantly recharged within a couple seconds ala the game world, everyone would be much harder to kill. Also, it never stated where Rhys' controversial mining operations happened, so we decided to go with Lynchwood. Small world and all that jazz. Pretty much it. Anyway, thanks for reading!