it’s only natural… clearly he saw me as special.

[doppleman]

Passengers: Timothy and Rhys
Location: Center Axis, near Infirmary
Date: Immediately after this.
Summary: A familiar face comes back to haunt Rhys.
Warnings: Emetophobia per Rhys 👀

[ Unfortunately for Rhys, this is one of the few occasions in recent memory where Timothy's actually had the time to prepare a little bit. You don't run screaming through a massive casino-turned-tomb for seven years without learning to value things like, oh, the helpful floor plans you're given when you wind up in a new place! So when Rhys lets slip infirmary, he realizes it's actually just as simple as a few minutes of walking and a somewhat unnerving elevator ride to get him from where he was to where he needs to be.

It also means he's had a few minutes to cool off a little and for the panic to subside, but all the same? He needs this guy to not be a problem. Maybe if he can just explain everything, it'll all be hunky dory and he can go back to what's proving to be a really nice life of not constantly getting shot at.

For a guy whose purported goal is to hide, he's not very good at it. Tim's not sure how long he's been out here pounding at a sealed door, but it's not subtle. ]

Hey, numbnuts! You with those twiggy lil legs!

[ Then again, for a guy whose purported goal is to not scare the living shit out of someone who clearly thinks he's Jack, Tim is similarly not very good at it. ]

Comments

[smugreport]

[ He visibly flinches at the pet name, scrambling to recompose, to save himself from this awful scenario. Talking over Jack after "twink me to death": ]

To uh- to the average eye yeah sure, but my arm has a taser function! don't make me test it out on youuueeeAAUH I SAID STAY BACK.

[ Another undignified yelp as Jack reaches toward him and Rhys stumbles back. If there was a taser function, it would be in use right now. Unfortunately there isn't one. ]

[doppleman]

[ Okay, here's what we know: dude thinks he's talking to Jack. Dude is plainly terrified of Jack, but there's something about it that strikes Timothy as weird. Off somehow, lacking something. What?

He's way too fancy to be from Pandora, and he hasn't mentioned meathunks once so he's not from Elpis. (And let's be real, they always had a pretty good relationship with the Elpis peeps.)

New strat: Timothy halts his advance and folds his arms. The sleeves of his thick jacket are hiked up to just below the elbow, exposing the clear line of demarcation between cybernetics and flesh. ]

Mkay, kiddo, jog my memory. What'd I do, steal your trade secrets? Airlock your grandma? Wh–what are we working with here, what flavor of morally bankrupt completely monstrous shit did Handsome Jack dole out to you?

[smugreport]

[ While he's still very afraid (except he's totally not, he is tooootally not afraid of Jack no siree) there's another feeling coming into play here: indignant, all-consuming anger.

Like, how dare he even ask? Rationally, Rhys knows why the meat and bone Jack wouldn't know about their past, and that stings in its own way, but he's past being rational right now. There's nothing rational about this scenario. ]

Wha-what did you do?! What didn't you do, you absolute asshole! We can start with the body snatching and work back from there!

[ He grits his teeth, fuck. Everything that he's held down until now is coming up fast to the surface.

Actually that might just be lunch. Or both...it's probably both. He feels like he's gonna hurl. ]

[doppleman]

[ Tim's blood freezes. His lips part, but for a second no sound comes out. ]

Wai-wai-wait, the what? [ No. There's no way he'd do it again. ] The bod—

[ Rhys might be able to run, but there's more and more wall at his back the further he retreats. Tim's fast when he wants to be. ]

Wha–what do you mean, body snatching? I thought he switched to the digistruct method, you're telling me...?

[ When he throws caution to the wind. When he stops worrying about things like getting punched if he decides to rush a cornered gangly nerd. He stops just short of grabbing him by the shoulders; Timothy Lawrence might be crazy, but he's reasonably sure he's not an idiot. ]

Okay listen. Here's the thing. I'm not Jack. You hear me? I'm not him, and it is... [ it's not a laugh that leaves on his breath but something similarly frenetic and shaky, ] really, really important that you tell me what he did.

[ For a second, he looks almost as sick as Rhys. ]

[smugreport]

[ Rhys's face is still screwed up with righteous, long contained fury (though the set of his jaw indicates his anger as much as it's working to hold back the possibility of puking all over Jack) but as the man talks it begins to take on a more and more confused quality too.

He still takes a firm step back when he thinks he's being reached for, his back finally hitting a wall and now there's panic in there too. His expression is indescribable, a total mess. ]

Wh- stop stop stop. Stop! What do you mean you're not Jack?. What- what the hell is going on?!

[doppleman]

[ And it's that similar look of abject distress that gives him away, to be honest. Jack's never shown that kind of fear to anyone. Not anyone that Tim can think of, anyhow.

Strangely (and maybe a bit cruelly, in a way), Rhys's fever pitch does something to lower his own internal temperature. Maybe he's just relieved; he's gotten as far as Rhys asking follow up questions, which usually means his risk of being attacked has reduced by about half.

He raises his hands in front of him, palms to Rhys. ]

My name's Timothy. I'm one of Jack's Doppelgangers. Was. [ He hesitates. ] The Doppelganger, if you wanna get technical, which I kinda... don't.

[ Ruefully: ]

Now that Jack's dead, I just look like this.

CW emetophobia (for ME lol)

[smugreport]

[ He doesn't know how to contend with any of this. For a split second, the path seemed clear, the way forged by all the bitterness and resent he'd been holding in about Jack, about everything. Now...now....

Rhys slumps against the wall, a distressed hand fisted up into his hair and ruining that mornings careful styling. ]

Losing it...it's finally happening, I'm going nuts I'm- Oh my god, oh my god.

[ The dopplegangers- the true ones, not just your average mook wearing a digistructed disguise, were somewhat of an urban legend around the halls of Helios. A bit of a boogey man to scare Hyperion children. Maybe Jack himself wouldn't have the time to rip you from your desk and toss you out an airlock, but a doppleganger might!

What were the fucking chances one was standing before him now, saying his name was Timothy of all things.

Then again, what were the chances of that compared to Jack being here.

Rhys swallows thick, tries to slow his rapid breathing down but it's fruitless as he's finally overcome with that all too familiar feeling of certain nausea. He doesn't think about it as he pushes past Tim and B-lines for the trash receptacle against the adjacent wall to puke into. ]

adds warning lmao

[doppleman]

[ Welp, it's definitely one of the more honest responses to Jack that he's witnessed. Not as impressive as the anger, though, and that was a little impressive, for the record. People don't talk to Jack like that. They just don't.

Or, well, didn't. ]

So hey, um. Not to harp on the whole... body snatching thing, buuuut—

[ He steps lightly toward the trash bin and hovers a short distance away, not overeager to share in the whole... thing Rhys has going on right now. As he moves, the hand he stuffs into his jacket pocket emits a small tink! as it impacts with another object. ]

The fu—oh, oh yeah! Uh, hey, I picked this up outta that, that AUTOMAT thingy.

[ It's an aluminum can of, well, something. ]

Here. If you want. It's... [ Tim has never seen whatever this is before in his life. ] liquid.

[smugreport]

[ As awful as it is, the act of it all is grounding. Takes all those spiraling emotions and just expels them, kina literally, into the can just beneath his face.

He braces his human arm on the wall above, dry heaving a couple times one the contents of his breakfast and lunch are entirely depleated and spitting out the taste. When he catches the can being offered in the periferals of his vision he grabs it, cracking it open to drink a large swig and he spits that out too.

Heart slowing, breathing...mildly easier. He's Rhys Strongfork, he's 28, he's on the Peregrine. Handsome Jack is not here. He's not about to get killed or maimed or skinned and used as a fancy flesh suit for some fucked up robot. ]

T-thanks.

[ Ok he can no longer deep breath in position with the smell of puke in his face like that. He rights himself, pressing back off the wall. He attempts to turn to look at Tim but that face is like walking under a freezing waterfall, it's like being gut punched over and over again. He quickly averts his eyes, only able to give side glances at the moment lest he upchuck this drink too. ]

You must- hah- you must get this reaction a lot?

[doppleman]

Pfft, I wish.

[ Rhys looking up at him, eyes red-rimmed and glassy. Tim shifts his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable. ]

That... didn't come out right. No, but, I mean, these days? Yeah... hah, nobody fears this face much anymore, think they'd just as soon tear it apart with their bare hands. Maybe it's not like that everywhere, I can think of a few places it might be better. Eh. I wouldn't know. I just bit it in the bowels of the hellhole casino I've been trapped in since Jack kicked the bucket.

[ A pang of real, acute despair slams into him at that, almost dizzying. Just for a second. How many times had he promised himself he wouldn't die in there?

When he thinks about it, though, it was pretty stupid of him to think it'd play out any other way. ]

[smugreport]

Right...

[ Rhys is like, half absorbing what this guy is saying at best, and when he raises the drink to take another sip he only now notices how his teeth are chattering from the sound they make as they hit the aluminum.

And oh. Ooooookay, there's the drop. The subsequent crash after such an intense adrenaline high. ]

I need to. Sit....?

[ He doesn't feel like his body is his own (BAD FEELING) as the walks a few paces down the hall, far away enough from the puke can that he can't smell it anymore, before all but keeling over as his shoulder hits the wall and he slumps against it, sinking down until his ass is on the floor. ]

Can we not- I don't think the body snatching thing is actually the best place to start.

[doppleman]

[ But it's also the most important thing so pony up, cupcake is what he wants to say, but somehow doesn't. Growth!

He follows from what he thinks is a disarming distance away, settling into a standing lean about ten feet from the slumped Rhys heap on the floor. ]

'Kaaay, so, what is? Oh, wa-wait actually, I got one. Who are you, anyway?

[ Besides a big fan of asymmetrical textiles. ]

[smugreport]

[ This is really happening huh? Just...cruising through the depths of space with a Jack doppleganger, about to unload his life story (well, a few months of his life.)

Rhys runs a hand up and back through his hair and god he is sweating like he's spent an afternoon in a shvitz. ]

M'Rhys- er. My name's Rhys. Former Hyperion middle-management, current CEO of Atlas.

[ WAIT MAYBE HE SHOULDN'T SAY THAT TO A HYPERION EMPLOYEE, let alone one who works so directly for Jack. ]

I mean, forget that last part thaaaaaaaaaaaat was a joke ha ha. Atlas who?

[doppleman]

[ Tim takes a quick trip down memory lane that he ultimately doesn't much appreciate, glossing carefully and quickly past seven years of panic and misery, past the realization of Jack's death, past the last time Jack would ever speak with him, back, back, to a younger and stupider and marginally more innocent time where Jack's throne was still just freshly claimed.

A day he'd spent slumped over his desk after riding out a good 60 hours before that on a stimulant high, and the way he'd cheered himself up by slinging his arm heavily over Timothy's shoulder and pointing out the innocuous slip of sturdy paper in his case of trophies. Trophies in the sense that a serial killer collects them, 'specially with Tassiter's disembodied goatee just chilling out on the shelf nearby. God, that thing was gross.

Point being... the disbelief he feels at Rhys's totally convincing joke is a welcome distraction from a lot of other shit he's not thinking about now. He snorts in reply; it's derisive, sure, but not exactly mean-spirited. ]

Uh-huh, and I'm the Almighty Robot Policeman, buttercup. Try again, why don'cha? See, Jack got his hands on the shares for Atlas a bunch of years back, didja know that? Or, you know... the twenty bucks and change that was left of Atlas. Point being, I know for a fact that unless you managed to ransack Jack's office...

[ He trails off, takes in (what is admittedly) Rhys's very well-tailored suit jacket, and for the moment is just. Silent. Narrow-eyed, sizing Rhys up—significantly more carefully than before. ]

[smugreport]

[ Oh thank god he doesn't believe him. Why would he? To the rest of the universe as far as he knew it, Atlas was still done and dusted. All Rhys had was that deed with his name now scrawled onto it with a pen that was running low on ink.

It's the first time he's relieved that someone doesn't buy it when he says he's a CEO. ]

Yeeeaah, that's why I said it was a joke. Look, are you still working for Hyperion? Cause talking to you is probably a huge liability for me if yes.

[ A liability to him keeping his insides on the inside. ]

900 years later

[doppleman]

Uh, n—

[ The question takes a little wind out of his sails, because... is he? After a minute, Tim slides down the wall himself, arms stretching to rest on his tucked knees. Palms out, he contemplates the H on the back of his right hand. By now, he's close enough to Rhys that he could recognize that Marketing-approved font anywhere. ]

Well... I dunno. Maybe? Technically? I mean, I bet if we turned this ship around and drove all the way back to Helios, they'd still have my contracts and everything.

On the other hand, the asshole I was hired to impersonate up and died seven years ago, so uhhhh... [ Uncomfortable chuckle. ] Maybe not.

[ Noooot liking the way talking about that is making him feel all of a sudden. Quick, bright side. ]

Look, all I really know is these guys managed to get me the hell off that nightmare friggin' space station without exploding my head in the process, soooooo you know. I won't rat if you don't.

[smugreport]

[ He definitely notices the strange hand, he wants to remark something like "since when did Jack have a fake arm?" (he's assuming it goes further) but is momentarily distracted by the sudden info drop. ]

Se- seven years?!

Wai-wai-wai-wai-wait, you're telling me that Jack died seven years ago for you? And what am I going to rat you out for? Being the offbrand version of the universes worst monster? No one here will care.

[doppleman]

Give or take a few, I dunno, months? Kept—losing count scurrying from hideout to hideout, so...

[ Also, offbrand?? Rude. Can't put his finger on why, exactly, but. Rude.

Rhys is not wrong, of course, but maybe he's not ready to share his suspicions, which transform more into fears as time goes on—that he doesn't actually belong here at all. That Jack managed to pass the buck for his overall monsterness one last time. ]

And... you know. Jack may be gone, but nobody holds on like he does. Did. Dunno what you did, but I'm pretty sure this hand's Hyperion property. Not... not really lookin' forward to 'em coming to collect, maybe.

[smugreport]

No- wait, cause he's only been dead for a year and change on my end?

[ Seven years...that's a lot of years! Too many years. WAIT- ]

Uh, not to get too off topic but do you know how Atlas's stocks are doing? If- if the company ever got off the ground again?

[ This is a rare opportunity! A genuine glimpse into the future. It's crazy to think this guy is from six years ahead of him, but he's kinda gotten used to weird time-stuff at this point.

He does glance back down at the hand (just a hand, huh) at the mention of it. ]

I wasn't a super-fan of his or anything, but I'm pretty sure Jack didn't have one of those while he was living. What's with it?

[doppleman]

[ With a wry half-grin, Tim makes a small amused sound. ]

Not a fan? Well shit, pumpkin. Coulda fooled me, what with the super warm reception and all...

[ His smile remains, but the humor drains away. ]

All the Doppelgangers had to get one. Jack's winning hand, heh. Controlled the whole casino with this baby. Or, I mean, until everything went to hell that is, then I was mostly just running for my life 24/7... but before that, yeah, pretty sweet. I guess.

[ There's a pang of regret for the friends he's left behind there, especially because he knows he's abandoned them forever if he gets to have any say in it. ]

So yeah, didn't actually get a whole lot of news about the outside world once the lockdown hit. Sorry.

[ He never even got to know— ]

He–hey, um... Rhys? It's Rhys, right. Cool. I dunno if you know this, but you're the first person I've even talked to who might, so...

[ Tim's tone is peculiar. Neither sad nor happy, neither concerned nor vindicated. ]

Jack—

[ Just... curious, maybe. Light, soft, in search of a reason that's been missing for a long time. ]

How'd he die?

[smugreport]

[ It had been almost a year at this point since Rhys had been in Jack's corner, and he was so so sure he was over this. But that wry smile, the way he addresses Rhys, it makes something in his hindbrain sit up that he thought had been long expunged.

Well, at least he can't look any sweatier.

Rhys catches on pretty quick that Tim must mean the Jackpot. Everyone on Helios knew about it even though few could actually afford to go, himself included. At first he's disappointed that there's no info to give on what the future holds for him, until the implication sets in. ]

You don't even know that?

[ Seven years.....fuck. ]

Um. Some Vault Hunters gunned him down, I think. It's not like you could trust anything he- I mean, the propaganda said about it.

[doppleman]

[ Gunned him down. Like it was that easy. All this time.

It's not hard to put two and two together. Jack spent his last few years on an accelerating warpath—one Timothy was less and less privy to as time went on, but even from the distant lap of luxury he managed to glean the broad strokes. It was Jack's casino, after all; rumors traveled fast among people connected enough to afford being there in the first place, but... also, well. Jack couldn't keep his mouth shut about his true ambitions if his life depended on it. Not to Timothy. Or Nisha, or Wilhelm. His team. His people.

His people.

The last time he saw Jack, he came to celebrate. Unwind a little, bask in the warm afterglow of the news that Lilith had been killed in Wilhelm's purge of some Pandoran town, New Haven maybe. Wilhelm's gotta be dead too, right? If not Vault Hunters, there's gotta be some massive surgery that did it sooner or later. How many parts of yourself can you have replaced before the person you were is gone?

He doesn't even notice Rhys's odd little slip of the tongue. For a brief moment, wherever Tim is, it's not here. ]

D'you know any of their names? Jack hired me to be a Vault Hunter, actually... a long time ago. Jack, he, naturally he took all the credit, but.

[ Another short, pensive silence. ]

After Jack took out Lilith, y'know, I knew Roland would lose his shit. You could just see it in his grumpy-ass, mega-serious face. Think I heard he was a Crimson Lance guy once upon a time, too, so...

[ Hey hold on. Crimson Lance. Atlas. Atlas.

Tim straightens and twists his body to better face Rhys, eyes searching his. ]

Um, say, the name "Athena" wouldn't happen to mean anything to you, would it?

[ Maybe Hyperion's the least of Rhys's problems nowadays. ]

[smugreport]

[ Rhys takes a chance to eye him again, while Tim briefly dissociates, but quickly averts his gaze as soon as Tims is on him again. He can't do this looking at that face, he can't have this conversation.

"Y'know, I was almost a Vault Hunter once" he's about to say, equal parts joking and sad, but he's quickly distracted by Tim brining up that name. ]

Yeah, actually. She was travelling with us for a bit, before she got captured.

[ Er. ]

Sssssorry if that's bad news. And congratulations if that's good news?

[doppleman]

Wh—by who? Like, is she okay?? Do you even know? I mean, she may or may not totally murder me if she ever sees me again, I dunno, but... [ Dang, he might be feeling genuine distress right now. ] Man. I didn't think anyone could take her down.

[ And at that, another long look at Rhys. Whether he wants to meet it or not. Athena was like, literally the only good person with them back then.

Mmm... maybe Aurelia. He could never quite tell, and it's not like good or bad even matters when you're that rich, right. ]

And you're sure she didn't sail back up to Helios and just burn it straight to the... uh. N-not—? Ground? Because, I mean. Not gonna lie, she really had it in for Jack by the end there.

[ There's a particular note to the way Tim speaks about her. It's unmistakable; it's the one where you know the subtext of what's being said is "ohmygodshe'ssocool."

Please be alive, Athena. You were one of his last hopes for getting him out of there. ]

[smugreport]

A really big guy and a smaller guy? I don't know, I think they were working a joint operation with the person who was after the rest of us.

[ A short, chuffed laugh ]

As far as I know she didn't go down easy.

[ He can feel Tim's gaze burning dual holes into the side of his face, but Rhys keeps his eyes averted. Still, Tim will be able to see the way they crease with his brow at that next part. ]

I'm sure. If it's any condolence that means she wasn't on it when it did actually crash.

[doppleman]

[ Tim's not confident about a whole lot in this world—authentically confident, that is, the kind that comes from a place so fundamental to oneself that Timothy's long forgotten what it's like or how to get there—but he knows that somewhere out there, Athena's still kicking. It would take a catastrophic space station crash to slow her down, and even that would probably just make her angryUUUUUUMMM HEY HI HELLO HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE. ]

Uh. I'm–I'm sorry. What.

[ Get used to this particular Tim Sound: the bewildered and only sometimes slightly hysterical mirthless half-laugh. ]

Ahah, see, cuz, cuz like, I thought I just heard you say Helios crashed, heh, which would beeee...!

[ Crazy? Horrifying? Amazing? ]

[smugreport]

[ He should have figured that would be the reaction, it'd be his too in Tim's shoes. Even after Jack's death his legacy felt omnipotent. Helios was his pet project, his crown jewel, but in was just as destructible as the rest of him. Gone in a single evening.

Rhys worries at the back of his collar, presses his fingertips into sweaty flesh in an effort to ground himself better, and more importantly grant himself enough self awareness to not say too much.]

I did. I guess it's been about a year now. It's sub-systems failed and the whole thing went down.

[doppleman]

[ For a second, all Tim can do is sit there and gape like a fish, eyes shining and wide as Elpis itself. ]

That's. That's...

[ Whole thing went down. The words echo, ricocheting around the inside of his skull. Whole thing went down. Wreckage and fire, Jack's office reduced to girders and glass shards and Pandoran dust. ]

Thaaaat's FREAKING AWESOME!

[ Tim sort of pitches forward a ways toward Rhys, palms clapping sharply against the floor. ]

Hooooleee shit, I could friggin' kiss you right now—y'know, if that wasn't clearly the most inappropriate and disgusting thing that could ever happen to you, but OH MY GOD I hated that place, and all my paperwork and junk was in there, and if that's all gone in a pile of rubble, then I'm pretty sure I'm not technically a Hyperion employee anymore, so—

[ The words get cut short, choked by a well of unexpected emotion. He swallows, a thick sound, and rakes a hand through an already messy head of hair. By this point in his life, he's started to go gray—the same places Jack did. ]

Like, how even? God, I missed a hell of a lot while I was locked up in that hellhole.

[smugreport]

[ Rhys jumps like a startled cat at Tim's sudden, loud movements. His head turning sharply to look at Tim and cringe at that kiss comment.

He doesn't know what to do with himself here, how to respond to the mans unbridled joy at the news versus how he personally feels about how it all went down. A lot of people probably celebrated Helios's fall, if they weren't downright jealous that they weren't the ones to do it, but this is the first time Rhys is experiencing those effects up close.

Too close. ]

Yyyyep, yeah. You're free- or free as it gets since you're in this place now. That kinda undercuts the sentiment...

[ He's bracing himself against the wall as he tries to shimmy up it and to his feet. He...he needs to get away from everything that's happening right now. He needs to not be around what feels like the walking corpse of the man who tried to murder him. Who made him-forced him into a position where a lot of lives were lost. Who's now talking to him about it with unabated glee.

The real Jack would never, the real Jack would kill him just for being the messenger. That doesn't stop it from feeling wrong. ]

But you can at least consider any of your outstanding contracts null and void.

[ He gives a shaky thumbs up at he finally fully stands, eyes still darting around and past Tim's mug without actually meeting it. ]