Roland tossed a roll of bills onto the ever growing pot of money, bullets, and even one of Brick's prized grenade mods that dominated the center of the table. "I'll call."

Three Jacks stared up at him from his hand. It was probably the best one he'd get all night and it still did nothing to improve his mood. Even in the best of circumstances, Roland had never been much of a card player – especially around his friends. This game had been particularly harsh since his mind was on... other things.

Lilith's foot lightly hooked around his ankle for his attention. "Still getting to you?"

She didn't have to elaborate. The four of them had been seemingly doing their best to avoid mentioning what happened earlier that day. Instead, it was left hanging over them even as they tried forget it with their game of poker. But not talking about something was a lot easier than not thinking about it.

"It's nothing," Roland managed a smile. He could tell from the look on Lilith's face that she didn't believe him, but thankfully she didn't press him on it.

The round of betting ended and Mordecai slapped his cards on the table - a flush. "Alright, let's see you guys beat this."

There was a collective groan around the table and Roland didn't even bother to show his hand. Everyone slid their cards to Lilith as Mordecai pulled the pile of winnings to his side of the table. He'd probably need a loot chest before the end of the night at the rate things were going. Lucky bastard.

"You guys shouldn't make this so easy," Mordecai chuckled, and Roland internally agreed. They should've made him take off the mask, but asking Mordecai to remove it was like asking him to chop off his arm: he just wouldn't do it.

"So does anyone else feel kinda bad?" Brick voiced exactly what was on all their minds, and just like that, the forced relaxed atmosphere was broken.

Lilith spared Roland a glance over the shuffling of cards in her hands. He knew they'd been expecting him to be the first one to say anything, but for once, he didn't see the point. Second-guessing themselves over something they couldn't help wasn't going to make it any better. Still, knowing that wasn't making things any easier.

Bracing himself for the inevitable conversation that way sure to follow, Roland sighed, "Let's… not get into this."

"Well, we're all here and we need to talk about it at some point," Lilith began to toss out cards around the table. "I do feel bad about what we're doing to Angel here, but Timothy was working for Jack. He should be glad we're letting him live at all."

"Yeah, but he also killed Jack," Mordecai pointed out. "It wasn't like he did the guy any favors."

"For all we know, he killed Jack over cutting in line at the cafeteria," Lilith snorted as she sorted the cards in her hand. "Or… maybe he killed Jack so he could steal his daughter. I mean, doesn't anyone else think it's all kinds of weird that she's traveling with the guy who killed her dad?"

Roland barely looked at his cards before folding his hand as the conversation flowed around him. What Lilith said had been bothering him too. Something about the whole situation just didn't seem right. Through their conversations over the years, Lilith had told him all about what it meant to be to a Siren. You were always going to be a chess piece; it was just a matter of whether or not you got to choose the board you played on. So what angle was Timothy playing with Angel?

"Well, from what you guys said, Jack didn't sound like 'Father of the Year' material," Mordecai added a roll of bills to the pot. "Maybe Angel wanted her dad dead too."

Brick called Mordecai's bet. "If she wanted to kill him, what'd she need Timothy for? She's a Siren."

Probably the same reason she came to them for help. Siren or not, Angel didn't seem like a murderer to Roland. Her body language when they talked hadn't exactly screamed 'hardened killer' to him. "Don't think so, if Angel was capable of taking care of herself, she wouldn't need us... or Timothy."

Lilith agreed, "Yeah. I mean, did you see her? I'm pretty sure Dusty has more bite than she does." The dog in question lifted his massive head from the couch at the mention of his name. Seeing nothing worth his attention, he returned to a light doze.

As Mordecai smugly cleaned up yet another hand, the background chatter of the radio was suddenly cut out with a hiss of static followed by a series of beeps. "Attention citizens of Pandora," a very familiar voice began.

"Not this shit again," Mordecai groaned, before Roland shushed him.

"-President of Hyperion speaking," the broadcast continued. "The Hyperion corporation has an announcement to make. After a series of negotiations with the Dahl corporation, it is our pleasure to inform you all that we have acquired the exclusive territorial rights to the planet of Pandora."

"What – is that even a thing?" Lilith's outburst momentarily drowned out the broadcast.

"In simplistic terms: this planet is now private property; and that makes all of you squatters. As a result, all non-Hyperion personnel will be required vacate the planet within one week. Failure to comply within the allotted time will result in steps being taken to forcibly remove any remaining trespassers. Transportation off-world will be provided free of charge to all those who wish to comply within the one week deadline. The Hyperion corporation looks forward to seeing you at Tartarus Station and thanks you for your cooperation during this period of transition."

Radio static was the only sound that filled the room as the four of them sat dumbfounded by what they just heard. Moments later, a Torgue commercial blasted over the radio and everything seemed normal again until a dull pounding could be heard coming up the steps outside the room.

The door slammed open to reveal a very angry looking Helena Pierce. "What the hell is going on here?"

Roland didn't have any more of an idea than she did… but he had a feeling he knew who would.

Timothy laid back on the cot that passed as a sorry excuse for a bed as he thumbed through his pilfered edition of Gun-Ho. The article – Weapon of Choice – was proving to be one of the few things worth reading in the whole magazine. Valentina has a need… a need for speed. She prefers her Vladof pistols because in her words, "Speed is a turn on. Nothing makes me feel as alive as the furious rush of bullets slamming into my target."

Timothy laughed approvingly to himself, "Oh, I bet you do."

Okay, so it wasn't exactly the best use of his time, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do anyway. After talking Angel into making the best of the Vault Hunter's ultimatum, they booked into the only hotel in town. The 'hotel' barely lived up to the name and the beds even less so. They'd been forced to grab two rooms because fitting one person – let alone two – into the narrow cots was not going to be comfortable. Angel was grateful for the space, stating that she wanted some time alone to think.

He was about to turn the page and learn a bit more about Mrs. Tediore's 'weapon of choice' - gee, I wonder if it'll be a Tediore – when the door to his room rattled open. Timothy instinctively flattened the magazine to his chest as he glanced up to find the massive shape Brick taking up the whole doorway.

"Woah uhhh – bad time?" Brick made to shield his eyes, not that there was anything to see. Yet.

"NO – no, I was ahhh just checking out the articles," Timothy tried to not to sound like a teenager caught in the act. "Any reason why you couldn't knock first?"

"Roland wants to see you. Now."

They'd already given him the third degree, what else could they possibly want? "Sure, just gimme a sec," he relented before tossing the magazine against the far wall. Throwing on his giant shirt and jacket, Timothy followed Brick out into the hallway. As Brick continued down the hall to open Angel's door, Timothy stopped him short, "C'mon man, she's tired. Let her sleep," he lied.

Brick took a long look at the door, as if debating with himself. "Fine, but you get to explain to Pierce why Angel's not there. She's scary."

Timothy internally agreed and followed Brick out of the hotel and into the twilight of the evening. On the edge of the horizon, he could just see the purple haze streaming out of the mountains where the Vault was doing… whatever it was doing. If Angel said it was changing the planet, he wasn't about to disagree. Following the purple trail up into the darkening skies, his eyes landed on Helios Station. He was halfway tempted to flip it off.

As he entered Pierce's office, Timothy surprisingly found himself much more confident than the last time he'd walked in. Hanging around Angel for the past few days had left him feeling… exposed. Around her, he couldn't be Jack; and Timothy didn't have Jack's confidence. It was so much easier to slip back into the role of playing Jack than it was to be himself. And right now, he had a feeling that Angel needed him to be Jack.

"Mr. Lawrence, have a seat," Pierce commanded as Brick closed the door behind them.

Timothy looked at the offered chair that sat in the middle of the room while everyone else stood around it. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather stand," he smiled thinly and leaned back against the wall instead, arms crossed.

"As you wish," she straightened the datapads on her desk before looking up at him from across folded hands. "Now tell us about Hyperion buying Pandora."

This was news to him. "I'm sorry, you're gonna have to repeat that. I thought you said something absolutely crazy like Hyperion buying Pandora."

Pierce arched a brow before pulling out her ECHO device and playing a recording. Tassiter's smug voice was all too happy to inform Timothy that she wasn't making this up. In the silence that followed, Pierce deadpanned, "Does it sound so crazy now?"

Holy shit. Apparently, Tassiter decided to take things up to eleven. Come to think of it, the whole thing sounded exactly like something he would do. In that same vein – why the hell hadn't Jack tried that? It certainly would have made things a lot less complicated.

"Still sounds crazy," Timothy shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I know anything about it."

"Then where's Angel? Maybe she'll know more."

"I think you've all crushed her spirit enough for one day," sarcasm dripped from his tone. "It's not like she'd know anything about this either."

"You expect us to believe this wasn't Jack's plan all along?" Roland accused.

"I was Jack's bullet-magnet, not his secretary," Timothy snorted. "Honestly, this whole thing seems a little too subtle for anything Jack would do. The only plan he ever told me about was turning this town into a smoking crater. If it wasn't for me, all of you would be nothing but blood and ash right now."

"And we're all so very grateful," Lilith sniped. "But it's awfully convenient that Tassiter would make that announcement right after the two of you walk into town."

"Yeah, and if this is Tassiter's plan, then killing Jack just made things worse," Mordecai agreed.

"Did you really think that killing Jack would've made Hyperion just go away?" Timothy scoffed. "That they'd be all like, 'Oh man, Jack's dead! Pack up everybody – we're just gonna walk away from the giant piles of liquid money oozing out of the planet!' What did you expect?"

"What would you have had us do? Leave Jack alone with a giant planet destroying laser?" Roland countered. "You saw how well that worked out for Elpis."

"Oh yeah, and you guys did a bang up job there! Let's just betray the increasingly paranoid psychopath, destroy his pet project, and fail to kill him – twice. There's no way that's gonna backfire or anything."

"Knock it off," Pierce slammed her metallic hand onto the table. "You're all acting like a bunch of children. This is not the time to lay the blame. We need to decide what we're going to do now."

So now it's 'we,' is it? Timothy pushed himself off the wall and straightened his lapels. "Oh no, we aren't going to do anything. There is no we. This is your guys' problem now. Angel and I are taking the first shuttle off this shit-hole. You guys can figure it out for yourselves. After all… we don't want to get involved."

Timothy was about to make a really sweet exit, before the towering figure of Brick blocked the doorway. He was thinking about how much less dignified it would be if he had to scramble out between Brick's legs, when he heard Roland's voice call out behind him, "Let him go. He can't help us."

Timothy was all too happy not to look back as he walked out the door.

To my Angel,
Something almost as precious as you.
-Dad

Angel traced her fingertips lightly over the words inscribed in her book. For as much as her father had chided her over reading fantasy, he'd still been the one to buy most of the novels she owned. It had been a poor substitute to his absences, but it was still a very handsome book. A leather-bound first edition almost a century old, it was worth more than the average person would see in a year. It was her favorite and one of the few books he had bothered to read to her as a child before bed.

When she had left Timothy in the hallway, she told him she wanted some time alone to think. In reality, thinking was the last thing she wanted to do. So instead, she pulled out her book and remembered the man her father was before, rather than try to understand the one he'd become. Timothy had been so vague about everything, and she was afraid to ask for details.

As her thoughts turned towards her less than ideal companion, she resigned herself to the fact that Timothy was going to be an unavoidable constant in her life for the foreseeable future. With no one else to turn to, she was going to need his help. And it was the idea of needing him at all that bothered her. He was right – she was going to have to learn how to live on Pandora. He was all she had until then.

A sudden knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, "Hey there, you asleep? 'Cause if you arrre, you're gonna miss out on food! I booked us a table at the finest establishment in town. 'Course it's a shack, buuut I hear the fries are good."

Timothy's brand of motivation really needed work. Angel rolled her eyes but couldn't deny the rumbling in her stomach. "Alright, be right there," she called back, before reverently tucking her book away in her duffel bag and digistructing the whole thing.

Straightening out her clothes, she pulled open the door to find Timothy waiting on her with something of an amused glimmer in his eye. He held out his arm expectantly with a mock bow. "Shall we to dinner then?"

Angel blinked at the sight. "What are you doing?"

"Being a gallant, and charming gentleman," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You don't need my arm for that," Angel countered as she side-stepped into the hall, but his good mood was starting to become infectious and she found herself smiling at his antics.

Timothy followed after her down the stairs. "Well fine, last time I try being polite," he pouted.

As the two of them stepped out onto the dusty street, they nearly were nearly bowled over by a little girl chasing after a skag pup. "Enrique! You get your butt over here right now!" The girl called after it before following the pup down an alley and out of sight.

"That doesn't seem like a very safe pet," Angel observed.

"Yeaaah," Timothy agreed.

As it turned out, Timothy's idea of fine dining was a roadside kitchenette that smelled of grease and rust. The bar-top was heavily scratched with graffiti and the stools looked like you could cut yourself on them, but the food was hot and the smell was enough to make her mouth water. Gingerly taking a seat at the nearest stool, Angel looked up at the menu that had been stenciled directly on the opposite wall.

"Skag steak, skag fries, and skag… drumsticks?" Angel's appetite diminished with every entree. "Is skag all they eat on this planet?"

"Well, they only have a few things in high supply around here, and skags are definitely one of them." Timothy continued down the menu, "Oh look, you can order Rakk wings."

The idea of trying to eat rakk wing sounded even less appetizing than skag. At least she knew the latter wouldn't kill her. "No thanks."

"Oookay, skag it is." Timothy rapped his knuckles onto the bar for the cook's attention, "Hey, we'll have two skag fries."

The cooked nodded and dropped what appeared to be a fistful of meat into a fryer. Angel didn't think that was especially good for her health, but somehow she didn't think the cook would care. To avoid thinking too much about how old that grease was, Angel instead found herself recalling the only highlight of the whole day – and what a high that had been.

Angel curiously glanced over at Timothy. "So, was that your actual voice or some kind of a trick?"

Timothy's forehead met the bar dramatically. "Baaah, I knew I'd never live it down," came the muffled sound of his voice against the counter-top. "Yesss, that would be my voice."

Angel laughed lightly at that, "Well, it's not sooo… okay, it's pretty bad. My dad's voice suits you better."

"Well no shit," he snorted and propped his elbow up onto the counter. "I look like him."

"Yes, but you don't act much like him," Angel said, now that she thought about it. "I didn't even buy your act on the station. You're not a very good actor, are you?"

This seemed to have annoyed him because he blew her off. "Psssh, I'll have you know I was a great actor – I fooled everyone else!"

"Well, for one, you curse too much. You were also too…" Angel fished around for the right word for her critique. "...flamboyant."

Things were silent for a moment before Timothy burst out laughing. "Cursing? Flamboyant? You did talk to your dad, right? That man came up with more new ways to insult people than bandits come up with ways to kill each other. And your dad was the walking definition of the word flamboyant."

If Timothy was telling the truth – and he had promised he would – then Angel was once again confused at how the person he described could sound so little like the father she knew. How is it that everybody else could have such a different impression of her father than she did?

"My father found other ways to articulate himself than cursing, and he taught me to do the same," Angel began uncertainly. "Yes, my dad could be fun, but he was always… controlled."

Timothy sobered and now stared at her in befuddlement at her words. "Controlled? That's just… that's not Jack. Y'know what, why don't you tell me about your dad?"

What Timothy was asking seemed strange, but he looked like he was genuinely curious. "Well… he was strict; protective. He always had high expectations. Umm…" Angel struggled to find the right words to describe her father and her mind turned once more to the inscription on the inside cover of her book. "He might not have always showed it in the best way, but he cared about me. He still cared... even after what I did."

"Annnd, what did you do?" Timothy prompted.

"I… I killed my mother," Angel admitted. It should have bothered her more than it did, but she couldn't really remember it anymore. It was odd that she could so clearly remember the way her father had been after her mom died, but she could barely remember her mother at all. "My dad could have blamed me, and maybe deep down he did… but he never said it out loud. The fact that he didn't meant that he cared."

The look on Timothy's face was that of disbelief. "How could a child kill her mother?"

"I wasn't any child. I'm a Siren, remember?" Angel glanced up as the cook deposited two sizzling plates of stripped skag meat. All things considered, it looked rather good – and smelled better. Still too hot to touch, Angel ignored it for the time being. "When my powers first manifested, I couldn't handle them. I kept causing all the technology around me to malfunction and even explode. After my mom died, my dad practically locked me up – for my own safety. Later, he brought in scientists to help figure out my powers." Angel brushed her hair aside to expose the implants on the side of her head. "It took years, and I accidentally killed some of them too, but my dad eventually gave me the greatest gift of all: he gave me control."

Angel picked at her plate at the silence that followed. "That's who my dad was: he was controlled... and he wanted me to be the same." She glanced up to find Timothy staring at her sadly. It was the same look the scientists that worked on her for years had worn. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Pity me," Angel said. "Yes, the situation was terrible, but I'm okay now. I don't have to be afraid of what I can do anymore."

Angel avoided his gaze in favor of focusing on the cooling food on her plate and resolutely took a bite. The salty flavor burst on her tongue and… Timothy was right. The fries were surprisingly good.

"I guess there's that," Timothy said as he dug into his plate as well.

"Do you have any idea how much this deal with Dahl is costing us?" Maxim Turner's famous smile was decidedly absent from this conversation. Without his smile and usual pressed suit, all the botox in the world couldn't hide his haggard appearance. The fact that he was in this call at all, without being properly dressed, told Tassiter just how serious this conversation was.

"As I was the one that put forth the deal in the first place – yes – I am perfectly aware how much this deal is costing," Tassiter replied evenly.

The three Board Member's faces stared severely at Tassiter across the hundreds of light-years separating them. Stacks of papers littered his desk from reported sightings of Lawrence and Angel that he had been sifting through before the interruption. He had more important things to be doing than explain himself to a group of people that couldn't possibly understand what was at stake. Not that he had any intention of telling them anyway.

"And you thought you would make this deal without bothering to inform us?!" A small bit of spittle stuck to the camera capturing his face. Tassiter itched to wipe it away, but the ECHO feed made this impossible.

Maxim Turner had proved a constant thorn in Tassiter's side for years. Hyperion's Money-Man, Maxim's reputation as a tightwad was surpassed only by his uncanny ability to seemingly conjure funds out of thin air. This itself should have made him an invaluable ally on the Board of Directors, except for one little detail: Handsome Jack. Maxim had held no reservations about throwing money away on the man's inane projects. And of course, nothing Tassiter said to the man had proven able to stem the tide of losses this caused.

"Since you had no problems funding any of Jack's plans in regard to Pandora, I assumed that, with Jack's death, this courtesy now extended to me as well. Or perhaps you've developed an aversion to making money?" Tassiter smoothly countered. "I bought the planet for pennies on the dollar. Under my plan, we can make back the money we spent in less than three months."

"And of course, your plan takes into account all the money we'll be spending to move Pandora's residents off-planet – for free? Or are you planning to pay for this out of your own pocket?" The severe look on Alma Harren's face gave no hint of what she might be thinking.

Unlike Maxim, her military uniform was as sharply pressed as ever – except for the cat hair. There's always the cat hair. Just seeing it nearly drove him mad and he yearned to reach through the screen with a lint-roller. Not that he ever would of course. Out of all The Board members, Alma was the only one that truly intimidated him. It was her expertise as a mercenary that had made Hyperion's Weapons Division what it was today; and it was said that, even in her old age, the sniper still never missed a shot.

"It'll be far cheaper to move them now then fight them later," Tassiter reasoned. He knew his only chance was to appeal to her sense of pragmatism. And Alma was nothing if not pragmatic. "We can mitigate most of the cost by using our own transports that supply Helios already. After all, I'm sure you can see the value of removing a threat before it becomes dangerous."

"If they leave," Alma pointed out.

"They will," Tassiter promised. And if they did want to stay and interfere, then Tassiter had ways of dealing with that too.

"Well, I for one see no problems here," Lawerence De Quidt boredly mentioned. The man seemed distracted by something off-screen and Tassiter wondered how hard it must have been for the other two to drag him away from his experiments for this call.

Lawerence's time was usually considered invaluable given that the man was the galaxy's foremost expert on Artificial Intelligence. Of course, it helped that he had created it. Sometimes though, Tassiter was left with the distinct impression that the man enjoyed the company of his robots far more than he enjoyed the company of people. However, his eccentricities were only a minor price to pay in exchange for his genius.

"Our operational efficiency on the planet will only increase without the constant interruptions of its natives," Lawerence continued. "Not to mention the gains we'll see now that we can further expand our mining operations on the surface."

"Quite right," Tassiter agreed. He had expected that Lawerence would be the most forward-thinking of the group.

"However, there is another matter that needs to be addressed," Lawerence finally turned his full attention to the screen. "I'll admit, I was a little shocked to hear of Jack's untimely demise. I assume you had no hand in this given our explicit instructions on how he was not to be touched?"

If only. Tassiter had dreamed of offing John ever since his leap-frog up the corporate ladder. The fact that The Board only chose to look at his one success rather than his repeated failures annoyed Tassiter to no end. Even after Tassiter had fired John for incompetence during the events on Helios Station, The Board had been all too happy to restore his position without even taking any punitive measures. It seemed like they would have been just fine with John taking Tassiter's place despite all the profits he'd delivered.

"I can assure you I played no part in Jack's death," Tassiter said regretfully. He loathed using the man's self-appointed name out loud. "It was his own short-sightedness that got him killed. Timothy Lawrence was never an employee of Hyperion and you can't expect him to follow company policy."

"A pity," the soft glow of another screen reflected off of Lawerence's glasses, distracted once more. "He always had such brilliant ideas…"

And terrible execution. "Yes, he shall be missed," was all Tassiter managed to coke out. "Now since the three of you seem to have no major objections, would you mind allowing me to get back to my work? There's still much to be done."

There was a general agreement before the call's occupants exchanged meaningless pleasantries and terminated the connection. Tassiter returned his attention to the stack of papers on his desk, glad to be done with the mindless formality. He'd known the meeting was coming, and he'd known what the outcome would be. For all their talk, they were never going to oppose him; they only wanted to remind him of his place. Looking at the reports in front of him, Tassiter smiled to himself. If he could only get his hands on Angel, he could show them who really held the power in Hyperion.

An especially tedious hour later, Tassiter had a fairly clear picture on where Lawrence and Angel had traveled since their escape. Since his announcement, sightings of them had popped up all across the planet. Suddenly, it seemed that every one of those backwater knuckle-draggers was miraculously coming across the pair. I probably should have offered less of a reward…

Through his search of the Fast-Travel records, Tassiter could at least say with near certainty that Lawrence had never used the system during his time on the planet. This limited the effective range he could have traveled within the past two days. Ignoring all of the sightings that were completely improbable, Tassiter was able to narrow the list down to a half-dozen possibilities. He scoured each of these six reports looking for something that could possibly set one apart. It wasn't until the second-to-the-last report did something catch his eye.

Hey, I saw those two people you were looking for. They were in New Haven chattin' up the Vault Hunters. So if you catch 'em, does this mean I get paid? The report hardly screamed of being trustworthy, the fact that this – Tassiter checked the name once more – Shep Sanders had mentioned the Vault Hunters at all was puzzling.

It was time for a second opinion. Perhaps John's ex-employees could shed some light on this new development. Reaching across his desk for the intercom, Tassiter punched in the button for his secretary. "Megan, I need you to contact Wilhelm and Nisha. Tell them to come to my office."

"Yes, Sir," came her swift reply.

Tassiter settled back in his chair and crossed his legs. All things considered, he was feeling remarkably stress-free at the moment. John was dead, The Board was behind him, and Helios Station's personnel were tripping over themselves to do his bidding. Timothy Lawrence was actually the best thing that had ever happened to him. It was almost a shame that he'd have to kill him.

Thankfully, Tassiter didn't have to wait long before Megan showed the mercenaries into his office. The sight of the Skanky Cowgirl was enough to sour his mood – if only slightly. When he sent Wilhelm to deal with her, he hadn't expected to hear from her again. The fact that Wilhelm had returned to the station with her in tow was… quite surprising. No matter, as long as she could be controlled, Tassiter wasn't one to turn down extra help. Besides, if she stepped out of line, he could count on Wilhelm to not hesitate a second time.

"So what the hell are we here for?" Nisha planted herself on the edge of his desk. Tassiter made a mental note to have someone wipe it down later.

"I've been looking through the sighting reports we've been getting, and I found one in particular that intrigues me," Tassiter slid the paper in question across his desk. "Tell me what you think of this one."

The two of them looked over the paper for a moment before Wilhelm pointed out, "You call this credible?"

"I find it strange that it mentions the Vault Hunters when our reward has nothing to do with them," Tassiter replied. "Did Lawrence have any contact with them in the past?"

Nisha spat on the ground, much to Tassiter's displeasure. He'd have to have the floors waxed again. "Yeah, we all did. They tricked Jack and tried to blow up the station with all of us on it. Why'd you think he hated them so much?"

Tassiter assumed the drama must have been over his ruined face. John was always such a vain creature. "Can you think of any reason why he would actually go see them?"

"Well, they fucked over Hyperion once," Wilhelm shrugged. "They're certainly not going to turn him in."

"And you can confirm they're in New Haven," Tassiter pressed.

"Sure. Jack was planning to level the place before Timothy killed him," Wilhelm nodded before chuckling lightly and adding, "It was gonna be a blood-bath."

Tassiter leaned forward in his seat and tented his fingers. So Lawrence would run to the one group of people that would never turn him over. It certainly made this sighting more plausible than the others, but if word got out he tried to destroy an entire town, then people would be less likely to trust his offer to get them off-world. It was a gamble. Then again, if there were no survivors…

"Tell me more about John's plans for New Haven."

A/N: Hey there! Another day, another chapter. Alright, so we have a few things to explain down here. First, Lawerence De Quidt is actually alive in our story. It's mostly a minor change, but we really didn't feel like creating an OC when there was already a perfectly serviceable character to fill the position of the third Board Member – since a Board of Directors needs to have an odd number of people. I mean, c'mon; they literally killed off this character just to be the punchline of a claptrap joke.

Second, if it seems like we've been overly harsh in our portrayal of the Vault Hunters, then you need to know it's not by choice. See, the problem is TPS was terribly written. Like, as in: 'we couldn't possibly salvage the plotline from that one unless we wanted to rewrite the whole thing from the ground up so we just decided to say "fuck it" and ignore it for the most part because that's just how stupid it is' kind of terrible. Since we don't have nearly enough patience to write that story, we have to – by necessity – actually have the characters be self-aware enough to recognize that bullshit. Unfortunately, almost all of the plot-specific bullshit can be attributed to the characters of Roland, Lilith, and Moxxi. So if it toes the line of character bashing, please understand that's not the case.

Last thing: Angel. The topic of her upbringing is a very controversial one among fans of the series. One of the more common assumptions being that her life was mostly torture and suffering. The problem with this is that TPS happened. The character of Jack we've been given clearly doesn't mesh with this idea. That he locked her up is believable, and we actually have an ECHO in BL 2 (one of the few things about Jack that hasn't been retconned by TPS) supporting this. The impression that her medical experiments were something out of a nightmare becomes much less believable now. Our version is a way to reconcile a bit of both.

Anyway, thanks for the support! We hope to catch you all next time. Later!