This surveillance footage is restricted use of the Hyperion corporation only.

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"AAAaaAAauUAAAUUhhAAHH!!"

"Just hooold on- Theere we go! Perfect!" Jack spoke that as he finally pulled that small blowtorch off of the little 'canvas' he was working with. Tim's screaming, shaking face. There wasn't even any blood left behind from the long wound he'd burned into the doppelganger. Just a bright orange, crisped and deep gash of a mark that Jack thought of as 'art' right now. And when he moved away, only then could Tim stop screaming... To look up from the bed he was clipped down to. A surgical bed, and that was never anything good.

Above him he saw the scar that Jack had chosen to cover up so long ago. Only now he was wearing it... A mirror that hung above him to show him the 'work' that was just burned into him forever. A perfect depiction of the symbol of the Vaults. Wrapped up from one side of his jaw, over his face and right back down through one eye. A perfect mirror image of the original man who wore it. Only now instead of anger, it only held sadness. Despair. A willingness to just die...

"GGhnUhn... HhAhu... Wwh-..Wwhy do you even have to do this? No one can even see your scar!"

"My GOD you never stop complaining! Y-Y'know the only reason I haven't killed you yet is because you're my FIRST double right? That makes you special. To me. I'm sentimental." Where Tim was sobbing, and barely able to make out a word, Jack spoke freely, happily and sarcastically as always. Turning around from where he left. With two things in hand as he approached the whimpering victim at his table.

Even with one eye now burned right through and unusable and the other one nearly blinded from a rush of tears and pain, he knew exactly what he could see the sick new CEO approaching him with. In one hand, a medical stapler used usually only for the heaviest jobs. And in the other?... Another mask. A perfect little mask made to resemble Handsome Jack himself perfectly down to the last pore in detail. A newfound burst of energy had him tugging, struggling in his binds to the table. "I-I-I-I don't wanna have this job anymore! Can't we just talk this over? A severance package or something?!"

Begging and pleading was only met with a sick grin from Jack that only showed pleasure in his work. Not even sadism. Just a pure joy in what he did that had come to the surface long ago. Already leaning forward, leaning overtop of Tim with tools already approaching his face. "Think of the benefits, come on! Like being me!" Just a little laugh was all that followed.

And the more black shadow that mask made, the more Tim struggled in his seat. Until Jack suddenly seized him by the chin. That once psychotic smile suddenly twisting into a true rage. Voice snapping out loudly. "QUIT frickin' squirming! You want me to screw this up and have to do it again?!"

... Reluctantly, Tim held still. He shook, and bit his lips. But he held still. Even as he felt the weight of that mask press down against his face to settle in a newfound fear of claustrophobia. To see Jack smile again, and feel the end of that industrial stapler press to the side of his skull. Ready to seal that mask deep onto his skin.

And Jack just licked his lips as he focused. "That's better! Now just.. hold..."

SNAP

"GGHAHHAAAaAAauuUH!!"

---

---

Most of the Claptrap's life had been particularly uneventful... He was created halfway across the galaxy in a Hyperion factory as an assistant steward bot. One of the unlucky ones to be shipped off to Pandora. Where all he could see for miles, and miles were sand and rocks. A constantly dry land. Both in its physicality, and in its life. What few maniacs ever decided to live there were either just that - maniacs- or trying to get by without giving anyone so much as a nod of their head, lest they spend too much energy and collapse to exhaustion... A cruel environment that only encouraged the growth of rust between his joints. A smell that attracted the barren wastelands most iconic creatures to use him as a chew toy whenever the chance arose. That combined mix of an aged and bloody scent, with the sharp sting of metal taste was perfect for Skags to come barking at Fyrestone doors whenever they decided the day was good enough to play with their food. And his code only forced him to hold his head up high and optimistically through it all. Claptrap had been repaired so many times in a row by people that didn't care about him, that he probably wasn't even made of any of the original parts anymore. Just a few years into Pandora.

But that wasn't just his life. That was every Claptrap's life who was thrown down to this rotten hellhole in the bottom of the universe. But this Claptrap?... This one was special. This very office - Jack's Office - was the place he was transformed from a meaningless, rage-inducing box of 'hellos' and 'come visits' to a machine with at least SOME purpose. To fight, to save people, to discover things, to make friends... Maybe that was just how he justified it inside his mind at first, but it gave him something to think about besides letting routine depression set in again... And the very same man who had transformed him - Jack himself - was here too! A person he once looked up to as his engineer, a genius code-worker and his new life-giver!

... But now, the little robot was going to die in that very same room. Every other one of his brothers - his entire product line of CL4P-TP were killed mercilessly. A single press of a button sent all their mainframes fried until there was nothing left. Just doing what they loved when suddenly everything went black, and they weren't thinking about anything anymore... But this Claptrap was spared that same fate, to be given something more personal. More cruel. But at least he wasn't being killed by the same man.

He was going to be killed by Handsome Jack... Jack himself was long gone now. Any shred of heroics or decency were thrown away the moment that mask went onto him. And the psychotic CEO was just staring down at the robot. With a wide grin on his face, and one arm lunged out towards the robot from his desk. Iconic blaster latched to his wrist and ready to go. Sure, wrist lasers looked cheesy. But as it was now, it was the same as any other gun. But Jack wasn't alone. Around him were all of Claptrap's 'friends'. The people who berated, and ridiculed him... Wilhelm and Nisha. They were just laughing and shouting, trying to scream so loudly over eachother that they weren't even comprehensible. But they both sent the same message. Egging Jack on to do it... even Aurelia - the woman who had never put a single ounce of care into her adventure besides her own amusement - was just cackling off to the side. Eager to finally see the source of her unending irritance be obliterated! Athena? The cold, quiet mercenary?... She was just that. Not a single emotion to her face. She was always good at hiding that.

But what about Timothy? The OTHER Jack?... Normally he was good at keeping in character. Claptrap expected him to just be acting as a second Jack now. As he always did. But in the doppelgangers face, he saw utter confusion. Confliction... Was this finally the one time that Claptrap couldn't talk? When everything was crashing down around him, and he was left just silently pleading for his life?

BANG

"AAAHAAaAaHAAhaAhhaa!! HAAhaOOooh OHoho God!... OOhoohoho!... PhOooo!" The moment the steward bot fizzled out of consciousness and hit the floor in a dead CLUNK of metal, Handsome Jack was sent into a fit of laughter right away. Joining Aurelia's cackling voice, with Nisha and Wilhelm not too far behind him. Those two even smacked eachother for high fives just in celebration of getting rid of that irritating little scrap waste! ... And Jack? By now, he was bent over almost at the waist just trying to catch his breath. On the verge of tears of joy. Wiping a single finger up into the eye sockets of his mask to scrape away a few tears that welled up from that great past time of murder. "OOohOooho... wwwWow. SUPER glad I saved that for me! You know, I should do that more often... Personal things. Feels... Cathartic. Feels good!" His voice was as cheery and 'friendly' as ever. He almost never broke that.

But then Jack looked over at his body double. And his grin started to falter. Just in the very, ever so slightest. Timothy was left just staring at Claptrap with at first, a blank gaze... Then a little tilt upwards of his brows as he let those thoughts sink in. A quirk of the brows that spoke for sympathy and sadness. The Handsome one at first, kept his cool. A single pat on Timothy's shoulder sent the doppelganger reeling back into reality with a terrified gasp. "Hey, kiddo!... You feelin' alright?... Come on, don't look so down! This is a time for celebrating!"

Timothy's mouth hung just slightly open, and his jaw could be seen shuddering as he turned to stare Jack right down into his eyes. Struggling for words to say. To push his emotions aside for now. "UUh-YYeh... Yeeah! Go us, right? HAahah..Hah!" He didn't want to say much at all. He just wanted Jack to leave him alone. Forever. But his minimalist, dishonest smile only made Jack's smile go away entirely... Sighing out from his own frowning lips, and dragging his hand back off of the body-doubles shoulders, to cross arms at his chest. His face went right from joyously happy, to condescending and serious. In an instant. He was irritated. Just slightly.

"See, this is the problem with you being my body double right now. I don't believe you... I don't feel like I'm looking in a mirror. Do-Do you know what that means?... It means you're not doing your job." Every word he spoke made Timothy tense up further and further. Just nodding at his boss with his teeth gritted in a weak, feeble little grind of the whites. He tried to grunt, to start a few words. But all that the doppelganger managed was to just mumble agreement to his superior. "... You gotta work on your acting skills alright? You're startin' to slip. Anyone who actually wants to get close to me'll see right through you." On and on he taunted the paper-skinned Timothy... But then he subjected his victim to a stare. He'd gone from serious, to a dooming glare. The type of piercing eyes that seemed to shut off all the light in the room to spotlight someone into that gaze. It was fear-striking enough to suck the air out of Timothy's lungs.

And again, he spoke. "... And if that's going to be a problem, then you're not any use to me anymore." His voice fell so quiet, and so grumblingly low that it wasn't echoing around that vast office anymore. The acoustics couldn't pick up his low tone... Not being any use didn't mean Timothy would finally be free of this miserable job. It'd mean he'd be dead. He'd already learned that lesson many, many times. And once more just a minute ago. Still he couldn't talk... just gulping down his throat. He would have looked away from those eyes ages ago if he wasn't scared of what they'd do if he couldn't see them... Then Jack rose a single hand. Not even a foots length of movement before Tim was jostled out of his deer stare to finally speak back again.

"UUH-YEEs.. Ss-Sirr... I-I understand.. Ja- Handsome. Jack... Sir... Ss-Sorry." With that, he seemed to finally push Jack off, for now. The CEO taking a step back to give the double a bit of room to breath his own air for once. Arms still crossed his face still scowled in displeasure. And even behind him, Nisha was just grinning sickly wide. She'd have no problem taking Timothy out back and filling him full of holes if she was told to. He was surrounded by things that would kill him in a heartbeat.

And again, Jack spoke. "... Good." He offered only one word. Before he just sighed to himself, and retreated back to his desk, to his favourite new chair. "Alright! Everybody dismissed! And someone get this trash outta here before the sulfur fumes make my office smell like ass!" Handsome Jack wasn't new to low-brow humor. But even Timothy couldn't enjoy that now.

As he walked out of that office, trailing behind everyone else so that he didn't have to look anyone in the eyes, he was left only to his own thoughts now... He wasn't just a slave now, or a mindless dummy target for some suit with fat pockets.

He was coming closer to the end of his life with every second he spent in Hyperion.

---

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WARNING: CRIMINAL ON HELIOS

HANDSOME JACK IMPOSTER

SHOOT ON SIGHT

Timothy couldn't believe the sign he saw fly by him. For the fifth time since he'd started his big escape... He'd absolutely had enough of this 'job'. He'd had enough of everything. His entire life had been spent as an anti-social, unappealing nerd with no goals and no one who ever cared for him. He got the sick end of every single unfair straw of like he could have pulled. And it only got worse when he just wanted 'student loans'. He got sucked into becoming a puppet for the up-and-coming worst psychopath the universe had yet to know... Here he was trying to break free from that trap finally. What good timing for all his plans to start as well. Jack was getting more and more furious by the day. And Jack's willingness to preserve his 'original' double would soon become overtaken by his impatience with Timothy becoming more and more disobedient.

And when Timothy was finally told to board a ship, and go massacre a settlement that wasn't giving into Hyperion, while Jack was too busy? That was the fork in the road. He had to choose between accepting becoming a monster, or risk his own life entirely just to break free again and into a life of his OWN for once... But he wasn't running into this blindly. He'd been planning a grand escape for months. An explosive, fast getaway. It was all he wanted... But now he was playing the part of a hero. Before he dared try to leave Helios without Jack's knowledge he started to download EVERY confidential Hyperion file he could into his own ECHO. With him wearing Jack's face, his voice and biosignature? It was easy to pilfer into the companies deepest, most sensitive secrets and take them ALL for his escape.

But now it was seeming like the worst idea he could have ever had. He'd been caught halfway through his data copying and that was the final straw. Timothy's escape had gone from a 'quick, fast and silent' plan to one that was guns a-blazing. The entire station of Helios was sent into absolute PANIC. People were screaming left and right. Scientists, workers and citizens running rampant to get out of the way of the hordes of armored Hyperion soldiers that ran through its halls as fast as they could. The only things that drowned out the sound of shrieking, terrified people and the sounds of metal war husks clunking around on every solid surface was the sounds of the sirens and alarms wailing through the air constantly. A constant, violently-red shine from every light on Helios transformed every once-optimistic yellow shade of color into a rage-inducing crimson shade that hurt the eyes.

So why did he even try to steal all that information for himself when THIS was the result? When everyone on Helios was gunning for him?... He could have sworn he remembered 'being a hero!' and 'needing leverage!' but he'd be bashing his head off of a wall by now for such naive thoughts. If he wasn't so busy running. He was MILES away from where he needed to be - the escape docks. It would be a trek straight THROUGH heavy forces if he couldn't cut them off fast enough... Everything was looking dark. Bleak for him. And to only seal it in even further, one more loud sound rang out. A voice over the echoing announcement systems above.

Jack's voice.

"How have none of you have found him yet?! How do you lose a body double in a freaking space station?! You need me to give you all incentive? Whoever finds that asshole and puts a damn bullet through his skull DOESN'T get their skin made into a bathroom rug!!"

He just needed to rest. GOD did he need to rest. He'd been left unfound for the past ten minutes save for a few close scrapes of squads of soldiers running past his hiding places. Tim scampered himself around a corner, into a dark wall of a room where red shining lights just cast only flickers of shadows over himself. And he fell against the wall. Hand splayed against it, his forehead cracking into the steel out of absolute frustration. His own sobbing voice struggling to even gasp in for air through his strained lungs. The only thing that stopped the fearful crying he made was the toy in his right hand. A thick, beautifully-black pistol with a bright star on its bulbous, curved sides. A Torgue pistol. The highest quality he could have found. Timothy just dragged that pistol close to kiss it. It was insane to love a gun. But it was the only kind of friend he had right now. And the smell of explosive gunpowder on its barrel was far better than the smell of old blood, and hair-burning acid that stained his clothes right now. From soldiers, from robots, some of it was probably even his OWN blood. He didn't even know anymore.

Around he turned to drop his back to the wall again. Head reared back, his eye turning right up to the ceiling just to stare and GROWL out in frustration to himself through teeth gritted almost tight enough to shatter. "God, DAMNIT what am I doing?!" He was thinking so many things, every sense in his body was being overloaded and the only option he even had was to break himself down further, and further. Hands gripping into those locks of hair atop his head - locks that were dyed to be dark. They'd long ago gone grey from stress and panic. And his hands just ripped and tugged uselessly at them as if he could tear his anger right out.

Again, Jack screamed over the speakers... He wasn't even charming, clever or charismatic anymore. When Jack was this angry, his voice and its content was nearly feral. It was terrifying. Every word of it.

"I know you can hear me out there!! How hard was it to just take another big freakin' bag of money and do your job?! How hard was it to just go down there, wipe out a pathetic little bandit town and plant a flag, huh?! Well I hope, I HOPE you have LOTS of fun playing 'hide and seek', cause when I find you, I'm gonna make an EXAMPLE out of you ripping your ribs out with my bare god damn hands!"

'Pathetic little bandit town' of families and children that just wanted to say no to Hyperion. And Jack would have had no problem killing off every last one of them just cause of that small fact. THEY were the bad guys, he was the holy savior of this new universe!

And here Timothy was, wearing his disgusting, demon face.

He muttered to himself. A throat-rumbling, boiling growl of words that could barely even be legible as English, let alone well understood. But they were cathartic. The same words he told himself every single night when he looked in a mirror.

"I'm... not you, Jack!"

His hands were suddenly working by themselves. They dropped from his hair, to suddenly bend his fingers and clutch his nails right into the top of his mask. Digging hard against his skin, hissing random pains of breath as he tried to claw underneath that fake veil just to get a grip. The mask itself PEELED off from his skin from how long it had been there. So tightly-bound to him that even in the slightest tug against it, he could feel the staples at the sides of his face pulling at where they were hooked into. But still his fingers kept going. Gripping with his fingertips and thumbs, his hold constantly slipping off and smashing the heels of his palms into his face with just how hard he was trying to pull... But finally, he got his fingers in. Right up to almost the knuckles. His palms braced against his anger-twisted brow, and his thumbs digging hard enough into his temples to give himself a headache.

Then he pulled. He pulled VIOLENTLY down. The entire sides of his skin coming with it as that mask finally started to pry away from him. That second, fake brow peeling off of sensitive skin like prickling needles. But the mask was easy... Pulling till he could feel it plucking out of the dips of his eyebrow, and pushing his thumbs through the eyesockets of the mask, squeezed in alongside his own face to form FISTFUL grips against Jack's plastic face. This was it. All he had to do was PULL. And so he did. Again, and again and again. Those metal latches in the sides of his face, he could feel them trying to scrape at bone every time he moved. Slowly slicing through thin, sinewy strands of muscle underneath his skin as he ripped at it so violently. His entire head jerking back as his hands worked. And he was just snarling and growling under his breath. Silencing every blinding pain he was giving himself, drool seeping from his clenched jaw.

"GGhnHUUhh!! CCUHUU... CCoome OOoOON!!"

Then finally, the trickle of blood. Skin separating, peeling off of his skin bit by bit. Red starting to pour down the cheeks, down the jaws of both him and the mask. Just when he started to shriek, to fill the room around him with his wailing voice, one of those staples finally RIPPED free. Tearing with it a chunk of flesh that almost wrapped around to the front of his skull. Mask left dangling from one side of his face. It was working. Even if the anguish in his nerves was telling him to drop unconscious right there, the taste of independence only spurred him to clutch harder and pull again. The other side split off from himself even easier, but it made him hiss, and yelp only louder, dropping to his knees as the second bind came undone... Now only the last one. Hands digging underneath the red-splotched mask to wrap right around it like a handle, and rip it downwards violently. One long, victorious pull of his fingers.

"GGHNnh... HHnRRhrr!!...HHrrRrAAAAAAaaHAAAuuh!!"

And then, the loudest noises he'd ever heard in his life. The sound of that final staple suddenly scraping free from the grin in his jaw bones, and pulling his skin right with it till it ripped like paper off of him. He could feel his throat tug with it, and his tongue pull down into his mouth even further before the mask was plucked free. And he SCREAMED. Dropping that mask to the floor, and his entire body collapsing to the ground in a writhing, kicking and arching display of despair.

A scream of freedom.

He felt at his face... Who cared if it was in the shape of Jack's. It was HIS. The skin had long ago turned pale, and soft - almost wet - to the touch from being sealed under that mask for so long. Sensitive to even the tiniest scrape of his fingers. But he manhandled himself like he would never be able to again. He could feel his OWN skin again! He could feel the air brushing across him, the claustrophobic feeling of his face being suffocated was FINALLY lifted off from him. It was beautiful. His fingers even dug into the deep scar that wrapped over his entire visage. Clutching into its curve, into its edges. The tissue was still old, and hardened from recovery... It was here. Holding himself for comfort as he cried, and bled onto the floor below that he could share just a few moments of pure, blissful happiness with himself. Mumbling incoherently.

"GGHnUuh... AAHuuhHhg... GGhAAuuh... HH'Ooh tthn.. Thank god... Thank... god... It's over."

It wasn't over, not by a longshot. But his slavery was over, and that was all that mattered in the very second that he said that... When hands finally left his face to free his vision again, he stared forward at the mask dropped onto the floor. It's hollow eyes just smiled back at him. He didn't even care. Timothy just picked up his gun, and scrambled himself to his feet. One hand wiping the blood that tried to trickle into his eyes, and his entire body took him forward again. Running once more. Sure, he was still fighting for his life. But... he was smiling. For the first time in years, he was genuinely smiling on that ugly, despicable face of his. Running on to victory, or death. Live or die, it didn't matter anymore. He was free.

And when Jack finally found where Timothy had become Timothy again, the Handsome Bastard reached down to clutch that mask into his own fingers, and stare at it... Seething with anger. Never once in his life was he speechless. But he couldn't put this kind of betrayal to words. All he could do was imagine how long he'd spend torturing and maiming the doppelganger if he ever got his hands on him again...

---

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"HHh'okay okay okay, just... Reroute that circuit into here, power the whole thing on... Careful with the sparks..." He was mumbling and shaking as he spoke to himself every step he had to perform. Sweating constantly, and his fingers so clammy that he could barely even hold on to what he was trying to wire together. Timothy was so close to escape. He was AT the exit from Helios he could take - the escape ship decks. But he couldn't just take one of those ships for himself. It'd be remotely commandeered by the space station in an instant. Timothy had plans for someone to come and pick him up... But he couldn't just sit and hide and wait for them either. If he left those escape ships alone, they'd be after him in a minute. For the past... who knew how long, he wasn't keeping track. And who cared. He'd armed a DOZEN of those ships with enough explosive to blow a hole in them and make then uninhabitable for the vacuum of space. But even now, on his thirteenth ship, he was panicking and trying to remember every last step down to the details of almost every dust particle.

If he had just decided to leave Helios quietly, he could have done this part of the job much, much easier. Without anyone coming after him. But of course, he had to be smart and set the entire area into red-alert. He didn't envy his pick-up driver who wouldn't be expecting this mess when they got here either... With a single hand reaching up, he pushed his palm right up the length of his forehead, and ground it across the front line of his hair. Sweeping those dusty, tangled locks back and then wiping the sweat that slathered onto his hand just back off onto his jeans. Finally pulling his hands off of the explosive charge to just step back. Holding his hands forward still as if it might fall off on its own. "...Okay, good! Next!"

With a quick turn of his body, he faced yet another ship. Only three more to go. Then he could just hide and wait. As he ran for the next target, his hand tapped down to the small, glowing pack that was strapped to his thigh. Fingers wrapping around a piece of air that had become solid, before a bright, shining blue light filled his hand bit by bit. Another explosive kit digistructed into his hand. Already opening its top, and skidding down to his knees before he even reached the next ship! But the sudden sound of metal marching, and shouting voices through the doors that lead into the docks sent him reeling all the way over onto his side. Turning his head all around. Eyes going wide open at the worst case scenario... Dozens. DOZENS of them were starting to surround him from every perceivable side. All armed, and all gunning for him. The moment the first bullets started flying, Timothy dropped that charge down, to dance his fingers over to his left wrist. A quick flick of his hand across the watch on his left arm. "Come on come on, back me up!!"

Just like that, he was supported. Quickly phasing into reality from the ground up, were two near-identical clones of him surrounding him on either side. Save for the computerized vibrations in their voice, the constant flickers of light that occassionally twisted their forms to betray their solid place in reality. And the colors they held. Both of them were massively tall. Maybe eight feet high. And a blazing red in color... Timothy wasn't going to play with just his small-fry clones. It didn't matter how risky it was, he brought out both badasses right away. He just went to work. Faster now than ever as his clones kept their cool. Hands lifting to each and every enemy that dared come in sight, and bursts of burning, exploding balls of lightning erupting from the cannons affixed to THEIR wrists as well. While hundreds of bullets flung towards Timothy, his digital doubles were busy trying to send back an array of explosive light back to them tenfold. Even if they WOULD fail. But he was done here, he started to run away. On to the next ship.

Good timing for him too. Enemies had already started closing in on his position. Loaders and soldiers. Hyperion's usual fair now. And just as he was leaving his last set-up kit, both DigiJacks - no. They were Digi-Tims now - simply smirked at their assailants. One of their cocky voices ringing out into the air. "I've got looks that could kill!"

KEE-BOOOOOOOM

It rattled the entire docks. Both digital clones erupted into a violent explosion that not only sent fire flying everywhere, and engineers flinging miles back to where they started, but they set off the bomb charge on that plane early. And even bigger explosion that sent Timothy tumbling to the ground right in front of the next plane. Whatever, that was fine, he'd work from here. Laying down flat, and gripping another charge from the seemingly endless hammerspace that technology offered him. But his eyes quickly caught on to what else that explosion sent flying. The squealing, flaming husk of the escape ship he was last at was sent flying far overhead. To crash into the very last plane... And dragging it right off the docks with it. It would be impossible to get now. Two birds killed with one stone.

"... Huh.. bonus!"

But no time to celebrate now. A new pair of Tims constructed themselves next to him, and he crawled back up to his knees. Halfway through his work, now he shoved that charge back up against the hull of his now LAST target. Just as he was starting to put in the last few keystrokes to set off its timer, he looked to the ever-growing flood of an ARMY that came after him.

Then he froze. He lost the air in his lungs, trying desperately to gain it back when he couldn't believe his eyes. Out of the crowd of yellow that was forming towards him, he saw the LAST thing he wanted to see. Handsome Jack. That angry face locked on to him instantly... spurring newfound energy in Timothy to just keep going. Even when his muscles were sore, and even when his lungs felt like they were trying to strangle him from the inside. Because even if he overworked himself to exhaustion and death, it would be NOTHING, compared to what Jack would do to him.

Jack spoke regardless. He always wanted to talk and scream even when it wasn't neccessary. "There you are you insufferable little PRICK! Your esophagus is gonna be my new bottle holder, you hear?!" Over all the bullets, over all the explosions still surrounding him and the sounds of heavy, thumping metal feet from every dozen robot that filled the air around him, he could hear that voice. But he tried to ignore it. Just for a few seconds. FINALLY, he was done planting that last bomb! And he stood up, to face Jack again... Only for his last decision to deploy his full-powered clones to backfire on him.

They both only spoke half a word before the digital friends he had disintegrated into thin air. Leaving Timothy, ONLY Timothy left to face the wrath of Hyperion. Staring down to the watch on his wrist. Charging. Two percent.

Jack screamed at him again. This time with a sick little smile joining his preemptively victorious words. "HAH! And to think I even CONSIDERED giving you an upgrade package for those pieces of garbage!"

Timothy snarled as he turned to run from that monster. But he wasn't going down without a fight. Bullets focusing in on him as he ran. Sending sparks flying off from the ground around him, and occassionally bouncing right off from the sides of his head, and across his chest as he scattered to save himself. Thank GOD he was wearing a shield to stop them from coming through. His hand raising as he ran. That same Torgue pistol he was holding dear to his heart earlier, was about to save him again. The Unkempt Harold... Jack didn't even give him enough money to buy something like this.

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!" It was a desperate plea as he fired. One massive, brightly-shining bullet that plunged out of the tip of that pistol, before it split into a half-dozen handful of smaller bullets to scatter explosions EVERYWHERE in front of him. Blowing limbs off of flesh and metal alike every single time he shot that weapon. And he didn't stop shooting till it was entirely empty. Buying himself maybe a few SECONDS worth of time with the enemies he just put out of commission. Behind an array of metal crates is where he dove to take his safe haven. Reloading desperately fast, just to pluck his arm and his head out to unleash another hail of explosive bullet fire again... But that struggle could only go on for so long. As he sat back down into cover once more, he just stared out at Pandora... At the emptiness of space.

"God DAMNIT, where is she?!" She was supposed to meet him right here! Right now! His gun just wasn't doing the trick now. He simply dropped it back down to his hip to snap it into its holder. Raising both his wrists to stare at the beam cannons affixed to them... A simple nod to himself. These things were ready to go. With a scramble up to his feet, he stood straight up from where he was, and both fists aimed forward... Right for Jack, even if that handsome demon was so far away from him, these beams would reach. The moment he fired, two massive arcs of pure LIGHTNING started erupting from the cannons on his wrists. Sending Handsome Jack diving to protect himself - as embarassing as it must have been - and sending every single thing it touched into a twitching, epileptic frenzy. Both hands splitting apart from eachother, whipping and swinging those lasers to every single side independant of eachother to push every foe back until the barrels were burning hot and they both ran out of juice. Dropping down into cover, staring out into space again... His most powerful options spent, and time seeming to finally catch up with him... This was going to be it. He was going to just die here. Never knowing how close-

But finally, he saw it. A bright blue, curvishly stylized ship that WHIPPED around the side of Helios and made an absolute beeline for him. It filled him with glee just to see that. His escape plan! It pulled right up next to him, doors already open and Timothy clambering forward to both feet to run up that open ramp as fast as he could. Bullet after bullet still pinged off of his shield. Sending sparks flying off of his cheeks, his arms and legs. But the shield was holding out, he was going to get to the ship before they got to him!... Till one BLAST of green splattered across his entire left leg just as the ships hull closed. "OOoh nonononono-"

His shield finally caved in just as he got inside. And the burn of acid ate through his pants instantly to start singing away at the flesh underneath. Flooring Timothy in an instant with him hissing and growling to try and fight right through it, to let that strong liquid wear itself out on him. A voice shouted out to him. A strong, but feminine voice that was SHOCKED to see the state he was in, and the ruccus he caused.

"Good LORD, what did you do?!"

He looked right up to see just who he wanted to see... blue, designer coat with a plume of fur around the neck clung to her body. A swirl of stylish dark hair with streaks of white, and strong defined facial features that even Handsome Jack might fall jealous for. Aurelia Hammerlock... one of his least likely allies.

"Just go! GO GO GO!!"

---

---

They made it... Barely, they couldn't be considered SAFE. But they made it... In front of them, all that they could see was the bright surface of Pandora as they circled it in orbit. And behind them, the Helios station was gradually dissapearing behind the planet itself till it couldn't be seen in the slightest. All its main escape ships destroyed, and the little personal vehicle Aurelia and Timothy used was too small to be shot out of orbit by any Hyperion tech that might have still been down on Pandora. They were long gone for now, even Jack knew it, and he was regrouping himself back on Helios. Furious... But he'd give this betrayal its payback another day.

As for Timothy? He was shaking. Barely able to breath, the occassional strike of lingering pain causing his air to catch for a moment as he forced out a grunt. But he would be fine. Finally, he was somewhere he could call 'friendly'. Or at least as friendly as anything had been for the past few years. Hell, the past his entire life. Almost no one had ever decided to do him a favour. Here he was slumped into his seat next to Aurelia, and just a couple feet back. Off to the side of the main ship pit. While the Hammerlock sister manned the controls. Keeping the ship stable. Ensuring that she could prepare for where they'd go next. ... Timothy finally stopped his heavy huffs of breath to relax. The air around him absolutely dead silent save for the constant rap of Aurelia's fingers on her own computer screen. He broke it with just a single, silent word.

"... Thanks."

All she responded with was a simple little hum of her voice, before one of her arms swung out from a pocket in her coat, and held it back to the boy. Old, sturdy parchment paper with an absolute slew of unbroken fine print all over it, with a single signature line at the bottom. Her name already on it... And the pen he was expected to sign with was clutched between her fingers... That's right. This wasn't some favor she was doing for him. This was something they'd agreed on. He was supposed to sign himself over to servitude. Why him, and why such a massive risk just to get HIM?... He had Jack's face. With that man rising up to be one of the most influential universal figures known to man, having someone who was an exact clone of him would no doubt be useful... Though, this was her thought process before Timothy decided to forego the mask and bare his scar. Still, she'd come all this way, she would work with it.

With a sigh on his breath, he snapped out a single hand to grab that paper out from her fingers. Pen caught between his pointer and middle, and dragging both items back into his seat. His free hand took the pen, and then he just lounged his wrist across the arm of his chair. Other wrist draped over its own resting place to hold that contract paper in his lap. Upright for him to read, while Aurelia flew and prepared. ... But the fact that Timothy was already 'damaged goods' for his purpose was making the rich woman shaky already. And now that he was spending his time? Doing nothing at all?

Aurelia finally got curious enough to look back at the disfigured, handsome double behind her. One brow raised as he just... stared to that paper. Her regal, always-sharp voice ringing out loud enough to sound over the gentle hum of engines around them. "What are you doing?"

"... I'm reading."

That worried her. Lips cringed back, tensed against her own teeth for a moment. "What is there to read? I saved your life out of my own spare time, and you sign that contract! It is as simple as that!" There was a clear sign of rising irritance in her voice. But Timothy finally wasn't reacting to that. Normally, he'd be pulling back away from an angry person. Receding into a shell of fragile, weak defense mechanisms. But he stayed stoic now... Still glaring across that paper. It took him a few agonizingly long seconds to respond.

"... We're negotiating. I've had one bad boss already. I won't make that mistake twice."

She couldn't believe the nerve of him there. Turning her head almost entirely around to stare at him, mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. She even scoffed out at him! A heavy shock of her voice to exclamate just how... displeased she was that he dared to be so disobedient. And her voice was rising. Word by word she was getting louder. Till it began to echo off of the plastic and metal walls around them. "We already negotiated that I give you an escape, and you give me a signature! If you'd like I can turn this whole ship around, and I'm sure they'd be MORE than glad to take you right off my han-"

She stopped dead silent the instant she felt a hand - not Timothy's - grasp right around the top of her skull. Simultaneous to the touch of cold steel that butted against the side of her temple. And just as she was about to react, her vision seemed to shatter like glass for a moment. Flickers of white light that danced across her entire body in an almost skin-tight MAZE of the stuff. Her shield! It had just been ripped from her! And Timothy still lay silent and statuesque in his seat... Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see a rather familiar, bright-blue glow filling her peripherals.

When her eyes turned to look to the glass reflection in front of her, she confirmed what she thought had happened... Both of Tim's personal, digital clones were recharged and deployed without her noticing. One of them was far off to her side, juggling her shield in his hand with a bright smirk across that still masked face of his. A physical feature Tim would take off later. But the second DigiJack was the one that was holding onto her head. With the loud end of his wrist-strapped gun planted right into the side of her cranium... Without her shield, a single shot would kill her instantly. Send her splattered all across the room... Timothy meant business this time.

After her voice calmed, she looked over to see Tim again... The hand that held a pen was now armed as well. Was he using a Torgue pistol? Lord, even if he MISSED her she'd be exploded into pieces in such a small space. She was trapped with no options now but to listen to him. But even now, when he had her at his mercy, he was still just reading that contract. As if it... still interested him. Once more, Aurelia spoke. Following a deep, shuddering sigh of her breath. "... You've grown up quite a bit, haven't you."

"... You could say that."

---

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... Wow, that was starting to smell pretty good actually. Every single time he shook the pan, a new waft of deep-cooked smells arose from the broccolis, the chunks of beef, carrots... The whole works. Timothy was particularly glad that he imported Venusian-grown onions. Apparently the difference in atmosphere and gravity has a different effect on certain vegetables that can grow there. Aurelia was already a fan of anything that seemed like civilized food being pan-fried. She was surprisingly decent to cook for. But she'd probably LOVE this tonight! His free hand put that spatula down, and left the pan to sizzle for the moment as he walked himself across the kitchen. Wandering towards the steel door that opened to a massive walk-in-fridge and freezer. Perhaps eggs? Maybe if he put all these ingredients together into some sort of omelet as a side dish, he could roast up some heavier steak slabs with a marination of barbecue sauce and spices on top as a main dish. Some wine on the side... Yeah. That sounded nice.

Timothy had been spending the better part of the last couple years now underneath Aurelia Hammerlock's service. After agreeing to terms that he felt his morals could withstand, he upheld his end of the bargain to hand himself over to a reasonable servitude. By now he'd learned to cook just the way she liked, helped her when she went out on a shopping trip or went off to do it himself when she couldn't. He'd learned to dry clean expensive clothes properly, how to shine shoes. Later into his work, he'd even learned how to properly be a masseuse for her royal highness. And of course, he was a permanent bodyguard and gunhand for her. He'd proven himself so capable that, even after Handsome Jack's death, when his face was no longer useful as a big corporate bargaining tool, she kept him on board. It might seem like the work of someone lower than a butler. Why would he agree to practical slavery for himself when he had the upper hand, to escape for dependancy?

On one hand, his morals just weren't made for the likes of Pandora and Elpis. After she agreed to save his life - even if he did alter MANY terms of their contract - he felt he still owed her a heavy piece of that life. And he was willing to uphold that bargain... But the truth of the matter was that he was actually enjoying himself! It was satisfying work to please, and be praised by someone that he started to look up to in a way. Someone who didn't treat him like a really useful paperweight, and wasn't a complete psychopath. He'd gotten quite good at menial tasks... Besides. Where else would his life take him? As he was now? His college education was just useless. He was legally dead as the original Timothy anyway. Even if he did keep the name for himself. No one would care about the degrees of a dead man. This work certainly came with benefits anyway. Like a glorious, high-price living... And style!

Timothy had fallen into wearing much more regal clothing these days. Finely-shining, well-fitted black shoes on his feet that cost more than his first car. Dark brown, slightly rust-colored pants hanging from his hips and a black belt. A long-sleeve shirt on his upper body that he always kept the sleeves rolled up to three quarters. He quite liked that style, buttoning it in place there. The shirt itself, often times it was either just plain white or a very, VERY light color of coffee. Nearly a beige in tone. Of course, he almost never went anywhere without his vest. A tight-fitted, eye catching bright orange of color with strong gold buttons to keep it locked on to him. Intricately designed across every single inch of the garment... He'd chosen these firey, warm colors to compliment the cooler, blue tones that lady Hammerlock often took to.

... But his face. It was still technically Jack's. With him forever being an enemy of Hyperion, there was never any chance he'd get the disarming codes to the bomb planted behind his face. It wasn't part of the data he'd stolen... Unfortunately. It was the same reason he could never get his burned eye replaced and fixed. Facial surgery was just too risky for Tim. It saddened him. That he'd never feel the admittedly pudginess of his old cheeks, or the slight rough texture of his freckles. But he'd get past it. There was one part of that face that he... surprisingly never chose to cover. The massive scar that wrapped up around his face. Permanently binding the symbol of the vaults in a deep gouge in his skin. He could have chosen to cover it up with make-up, sure. But he preferred to wear it... It was the one massive thing that separated him from the most well-known look of Handsome Jack. And Jack himself HATED that scar enough to cover it up with his own ego. Timothy would gladly wear anything that Jack hated. Even if it was disfigurement...

Suddenly, just as he was cracking eggs on the side of the pan, the watch on his right wrist gave off a telltale ring of sound to him. Wiping his fingers off on a cloth before pushing the button, and speaking out as he cooked away. "Hello?"

It was someone at the front gates of the manor. One of Aurelia's... many, many manors. But for now, this one. That watch of Tim's was wired right to the front entrance intercoms. And whoever it was spoke back to him in as casual a voice as ever. "Got a package here for delivery?"

Tim didn't take it entirely casual either though. He still had a duty to perform, and a boss to protect. One he cared about now. Just as he was sprinkling salts and herbs across the slowly-solidifying mix of egg and stir fry, he questioned. "Who is it adressed to?"

"...Package says 'Timothy'."

"Last name?"

"... There... isn't a name given. Uuuh..."

That sounded about right. Timothy never gave a last name on shipping orders. It was one of his ways of chasing would-be troublemakers away. If they just said 'Timothy Hammerlock' out of assumption, they'd be rejected right at the door. With a few shakes of that pan, and his hands setting the burners to a much lower temperature just to sizzle while he was gone, Timothy stepped back with his hands wiping themselves off on a cloth again. Exiting that kitchen, a couple hallways later and he found the grand, expansive main lobby of the Hammerlock estate. "I'll see you out front."

When finally he met his delivery man, the admittedly confused man took rather... careful steps up towards the front door. Seeing a rather serious-glaring man in front of a mansion was a bit intimidating enough. But that scar - he'd never say anything about it - just sealed the deepest feeling of worry. Still, he held out a box for the butler. Long, thin and rectangular in shape. Almost as long as Tim was tall. The doppelganger just took it with a smile and a nod of his head. Only a small word of thanks muttered under his breath as he signed... With package in hand, he turned right back around for the inside. Almost running up the stairs. This package was for Aurelia directly. But she didn't know it was coming... He was excited! Oh, he almost forgot to rip off the label too. Didn't want her to know what it was too early!

Knock Knock Knock. "Madam?" His voice rang through the door of Aurelia's own personal working space. A much smaller room with massive windows at her back, shelves of books lining the walls to her left and right, and a desk that faced the windows. Keyboard constantly clicking under her fingertips, and her eyes locked to a brightly-glowing, laserlight display projected right above her desk.

"Come in." She spoke out simply. To hear the door open wide behind her, a few heavy footsteps close the distance, and then a single... tap on her shoulder. With a turn of her head, the first thing she saw was cardboard out of the corner of her eyes... Turning even further, till she spun in her chair to face Timothy directly. The doppelganger smiling dumbishly wide with a long box in both hands. Silently he offered it forward for her to take. "..O-Ooh..." She just muttered those words as she took it. Observing the box for a moment before plucking its staples, its cardboard, ripping out its bubblewrap and peanuts... Till she found the glory inside. A massive, long construct of gold-painted metal, with wooden finishings. Handcarved and crafted down to its very last detail. And before her hands were already reaching in to feel it, Timothy was speaking again.

"It's a Jakobs sniper rifle Madam. One of their most expensive, and high quality... A Skullmasher."

She looked up to him at that name. "Skullmasher?" A quizzical little hum given as she stared down to the bulky chunk of precise metal in her lap. "... Isn't that the one that acts more as a shotgun than a proper sniper rifle?... Acts a little sloppy for my tastes..."

But even when she criticized his gift, Timothy just grinned a crooked smirk on his face. Hands now wrapping behind his back for the sake of proper posture. "In all fairness, you haven't left me much choice Madam. What with you having bought almost every gun in the six galaxies." His polite little retort finally earned a smile from the lady herself... A simple shrug from her was all she gave him. But it meant that he was right. She was always rather stern about showing how much she 'cared' for something. But he tried anyway. Whilst she kept inspecting it, he continued to speak. Catching her interest with every new detail. "But it's not a pure Jakobs. I've had it custom fitted with a DAHL brand stock, and grip. Because I know you hate rifles that kick too much. It even has an accessory to help give extra bullet velocity."

He was particularly proud of the gift he'd gotten her. And she could tell. He customized it right down to fit her tastes even. She never gave him access to her money... He must have paid for it out of pocket even! Finally, she gave up. And a wide smile cracked across her cheeks. One hand resting underneath the barrel of the rifle, the other holding it around the thinnest part of its stock. "... Well thank you Timothy."

"Very welcome, Madam."

Suddenly, she stood herself up, still inspecting her brand new Skullmasher for a moment. Before handing it forward to him. "Would you like to postpone supper for now, and take a trip to the firing range?"

He almost went wide-eyed when she offered that. His smile wavered for a moment as pure surprise took him over. He expected good reception, but this was exceptional! His hands rather cautiously took the rifle now. His manners gave the slightest slip. "... Rr-really?... M-M'lady? Sorry..."

"Of course."

With her simply nodding to him as he took it, Timothy tried to stop the little chuckle of joy from escaping his lips. But of course, he couldn't. It slipped juuust barely past the grasp of his teeth. Already he was stepping backwards with a slight bow at the waist. "Gladly! I shall put the dinner on hold and prepare the training targets Madam!"

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Just one more part to go for this story, and I'll finish writing that tomorrow, folks.~