We're the wicked ones.

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

No movement, no light, not even a single soul around. An endless void filled with a deafening silence that could drive anyone insane. It was almost as if time had stopped entirely.

Whatever remained of his fractured mind tried to fill the silence with the warblings of his own thoughts, echoes of his former self, and the phantoms of the people he once knew. Sometimes it would get painfully loud, but it wasn't enough of a distraction to keep him from slipping back into a sense of dread. 

Again… 

And again. 

He felt nothing, yet everything all at once. 

How could an artificial consciousness even feel or remain aware of its own condition? Perhaps it was merely part of the simulation programmed into him. 

It was a pitiful way to exist—so much for living forever.

He wanted to scream, kick, thrash, but without a physical form, all he could sense was a tingle, say, a faint electrifying buzz in his system. A sensation best described as trying to run inside of a dream while your limbs remain detached from your body, numb, immobilized.

Fragments of memories would play before him at random intervals as incomplete reruns, a broadcast displaying the remains of what he once was, what he had, what he had achieved, and what he had lost.

 It was a nightmare. 

Beep… beep… “System check initiated. Please stand by.”

Amid the unnerving calm, a robotic voice finally broke the excruciating turmoil that felt like an eternity. 

What on earth was that?

Beep… beep… “System check completed. No errors detected. Welcome back!”

“Wh-what…?”

Reality returned ever so slowly, yet his vision was blurry, unfocused. Just like waking up from a deep, yet restless slumber. All he could make out were a few twinkling splotches of illumination in the distance and a figure moving around behind a densely grainy filter.

The figure paused for a second, moved closer to view, then shook its head and resumed switching places, acting all jittery. He identified the mumbling and the keyboard clicking, but they were overlapped by a shrill digital noise, followed by a single voice seemingly coming from within his own ‘realm’.

A line of text appeared in his line of sight.

“Download success. H-J4CK.exe detected.”

A beam of white light roused his senses, and for the first time in what felt like years, he could finally see into the outside world and perceive his surroundings clearly, but only within a limited range. He was met with the sight of a computer lab, flickering speckles of colorful bulbs adorned the room like immobile fireflies. Part of an enormous tank could be seen in the corner of his eye, nearly out of frame. And in front of him, there was a very familiar face.

A young man, with pointed ears, bright green eyes, peculiar canines protruding from a scarred mouth… of course. He recognized that freaking weirdo. Pip? Yes, that was probably the name. 

"Huh. Well, hello there, Pipsqueak."

The young man continued his work uninterrupted, staring intently at the screen with his big, bushy brows nearly overlapping his eyes, his face set in an intense frown. The man anxiously scratched the bare, fuzzy scalp where his distinctive, long, red hair once was, then continued clicking and typing on his computer. 

Guess he was too engrossed in his tasks to acknowledge him.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

Nothing. No response. Not even a surprised look or a twitch of his ear.

Strange.

Jack looked around his space as far as his sight could reach, and then a vision slipped into his digital consciousness. It was foggy, and it came in short flashes; the Helios station, or what was left of it, fire all around, and… Rhys. He remembered his final moments, dropping to his knees as he pleaded one last time before Rhys tore the cable connecting his eye implant, cutting the AI's feed linked to his head. And it was then that darkness came. 

Ah, that’s right. He was still stuck in that flimsy piece of hardware that Rhys left behind. It was very likely that Pip-boy couldn’t hear him from there without that ill-dressed meatbag to help him communicate. 

He had so many questions, starting with “Where the hell am I?” followed by “What the hell happened?” “What the hell are you doing?” “Where the hell is Rhys so I can strangle him with his stupid tie?” 

It was no use, unfortunately. 

So annoying.

Pip smacked his cheeks, letting out a pained, overwhelmed groan. Jack could tell the young man had reached a critical point of exhaustion, as he clumsily buried his face in his hands and then plopped his head down over the desk with a light thud. He did not look well compared to when he last saw him. What once was a very vigilant, smart-mouthed asshole was now reduced to a miserable wreck of a person, complete with a scruffy, patchy stubble, and deep dark circles intensifying the depth of his eye sockets—a sign of constant friction from rubbing them in an attempt to keep himself awake. 

The poor bastard. It must have been months since he last had a proper nap.

Jack thought for a moment, looking down at such a pitiful scene. He had to find a way to communicate with the pathetic short-stack of a man to get answers after being out of the loop for god knows how long. While Pip was out, Jack took the opportunity to dig through the fresh new system he had been installed into, finding a link that connected his tiny prison to the massive computer. 

Finding it was just the first step, though. He had to transport himself through its system without blending his frail existence into oblivion in the process. 

As expected, it wasn't as easy as it seemed. That computer was so heavily protected that it made hacking into Rhys’ system feel like slicing butter with a hot knife compared to facing such a behemoth of a machine. It was like confronting a heavily armored badass skag with a blunt pizza cutter. 

He was no stranger to Hyperion technology, but it was evident that the code-monkey before him figured out a way to customize it beyond recognition—something that even a master coder like Jack could admire. There wasn't a lot to do other than maybe picking a simple text software and making do from there, like a freaking savage. 

There goes nothing.

Typing… Typing… Beep.

A small window popped up right in the middle of the screen with a cheery jingle that made the marauder’s ears perk at the sound. Slowly, he lifted his head, followed by a long yawn that ended with a bothered grunt. With tired eyes, he squinted really hard at the big monitor sitting in front of him. His expression switched abruptly with shock. He rubbed his face, grumbling into his hands before taking a second look, stretching his lower eyelids in a desperate attempt to pry them open and to make sure that it wasn't yet another of his hallucinations induced from sleep deprivation.

[Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead]

Those were the words, glinting in white text against a blue background, from that very small window. 

[I see you've been busy, Pipsqueak]

Pip’s hands began to tremble. Chuckling in short, dumbfounded huffs, he sat back as a wave of overwhelming joy and uncertainty washed over him. Tears slowly began to form in his eyes, taking a balled fist over his mouth to keep himself from cackling like a madman. The green-eyed man proceeded to type so fast his claws caused his fingers to trip over the keys, clicking and scratching clumsily enough to mess up his words. 

"Who is this? Is that you, Jack?" He hastily wrote on the board and stared at the message intently, fingers hovering over the board with slight hesitation. 

Was it really him? No other person called him by that name; the speech pattern was spot on, too. But it could always be someone else hacking into his system. He shook his head, discarding the thought. Impossible. He had safeguarded that machine for months; it was practically impenetrable. He took a deep inhale and sent the message, waiting for a moment as he anxiously nibbled the calloused cuticles around the tips of his fingers. 

The cursor blinked right below, and it promptly began to drift across the screen once again.

[Unless you have more people’s brains installed in this computer, then yes, it is me, cupcake…]

Breathing deeply as a knot formed in his throat, the young man swallowed hard, pursing his lips and clutching his chest with a balled fist, whimpering from the growing pain as he forced himself to hold back the strong urge to break down from the barrage of emotions hitting him at once. He attempted to type a response, groaning as he tumbled over his written words, failing to type with numb fingertips. He didn’t get enough time to finish before a new message appeared on the screen.

[Oh, also, you don’t have to type everything]

The lines of words flowed in swiftly. 

[I can hear you perfectly clear out there]

"Oh stars!" 

Pip's voice quivered through a hoarse exhale, sinking into his chair as his body fell limp with apparent relief. He sat there giggling softly to himself into his hands, dragging them over to his shaved auburn head. 

"Ye have no idea…" his voice cracked as he spoke through clenched teeth, leaning closer to the broken eye implant sitting inside a glass dome. "...ye have no bloody idea how long I've been tryin' to reach ya. To bring ya back…" His pupils dilated wide as saucers, covering most of the bright green of his iris. 

Grimacing, he began to sniffle. 

Uh oh, he's crying. 

The cursor slid across the screen in a blink. 

[Before you set up the waterworks and make things awkward, can you tell me what is going on?]

Perplexed, Pip blinked and quickly sat upright, tilting his head, clearing his throat with a heavy sigh as he wiped his face with his sleeve. 

"R-Right…" He slumped back on his seat with a squeak, crossing his leg with his foot pressed on the edge of the desk, lightly rocking himself back and forth. "It is quite the story. Where should I even begin?" 

[Well, for starters, where are we?]

"Aegrus…" Pip asserted. "...Within a highly secured, top-secret Hyperion base. I’m surprised ya don’t recognize this place since it was ye who got it built for this project.” 

The cursor blinked idly for a moment. 

Projects… Yeah…Jack had many of those still floating around for him to work on after opening the vault of the Warrior, assuming he was still alive by then, but none that he could fully remember needing a laboratory for, and in Aegrus of all places. 

[Mmmkay, I give up] 

The words slid across slowly, with a noticeable sense of defeat.

[I have no idea what you’re talking about. What project specifically?]

"Huh…" Pip frowned. “Ya…don’t remember?” he scratched his head and leaned on the desk once again with a hand tucked up under his chin. “It can’t be. This was one of yer most ambitious works. Ye had the entire R&D workin’ their arses day and night to get it done properly.” 

He tapped on the keyboard with the tips of his darkened claws and clicked away through numerous digital files. 

“This oughta refresh yer memory. Hopefully…”

The young man was right. 

A plethora of screens powered up, illuminating part of the room and allowing Jack to see more clearly into the previously obscured objects around him. There were graphic diagrams and loads of extensive scientific data, none of which the AI could quite understand on his own. Jack didn’t have the patience nor the attention to dig through the details that would only confuse him even further. That was until his sight landed on a live feed of the stasis tank he previously struggled to identify at the corner of the room. Inside, a shockingly familiar sight rested unbothered, submerged within a greenish transparent substance. 

He couldn't believe it. 

It was his face. But something was off about it.

Upon further inspection, he figured that the man inside the tank couldn't be his old broken body which was likely left to rot at the Vault of the Warrior, whatever even happened to it anyway... He looked about a decade younger, his ears were slightly pointed, his hair was no longer greying. Most importantly, the grotesque scar on his disfigured face, it was gone. There was no trace of it. 

Jack processed the images presented before him, and again, pieces of information traversed into his digital consciousness at an incredible speed it made him dizzy. The creation of his AI, his pursuit for a powerful form, an immortality program, that’s it! As the gaps began to fill, more questions arose just the same. All of his memories were supposed to be stored in one place—then what happened? What was he missing?

[So wait… is that a clone of me? A whole new body?]

The ECHO eye glowed dimly. 

[Y’know, this whole time I was convinced that I was going to be more… metallic and badass]

Pip scrunched his nose in confusion; his mind started racing. 

"Metallic? Where'd ya get that idea from?" 

[UHHH the super cool endoskeleton that was going to be put INSIDE my original body? My whole existence was made specifically for that, dummy!]

The marauder frowned, struggling to recall what possible conversations ever lead up to Jack's transformation including an endoskeleton. Eyes darted around as if trying to find something at the back of his skull. He then turned to his computer and skimmed through every bit of information in hopes of finding anything related to the inclusion of such a thing.

“N-No…that can’t be right…”

It made no sense. Cloning Jack’s body with Pip’s Helian DNA was the only goal, and an endoskeleton seemed like an unnecessary step.

A pattern in the AI’s scrambled data painted an alarming picture. Then a memory in Pip’s mind surfaced that made his stomach churn,

Professor Nakayama.

A man who begrudgingly had to go along with Pip’s plan. He hated it. Hell, he even hated the marauder above all things because of all the pampering and privileges Jack was giving him. 

“It should have been me…” the loathsome man would mutter under his breath through crooked teeth whenever Jack praised the marauder after a good day’s work. 

Nakayama was brilliantly smart at best but inevitably incompetent at worst, always running his mouth and breaking things, as if misfortune followed him everywhere. That feeble nitwit had far too much confidence for a grown man who had his lunch money stolen almost every day and stank of cheese. Jack kept him around only because he had already created the AI and was tasked with perfecting it as the final piece of the puzzle.

However, Jack still forbade him from ever getting his dirty mitts into the meat and potatoes—the cloning process, that is. Nakayama was already banned from performing any further genetic experiments after attempting to clone the Destroyer, botching it by a single miscalculation. The result was a hostile genetic failure that cost the company unnecessary losses and wasted precious resources.

But then, Nakayama disappeared. 

After Jack’s death, Nakayama had been sent to deliver the AI to Aegrus so Pip himself could set the plan in motion. But Terminus, the ship he boarded, crashed, and by the time Hyperion agents went searching for him, Nakayama was gone. A body was never recovered. Yet there were signs that he was still alive after the crash. Remnants of his extracurricular activities proved that the slimy worm had still tried to create, not one, but multiple Jack clones of his own, using DNA from the various creatures of the continent, and poorly crafted metallic skeletal frames.

All of them—failures, as expected. Handsome Jack’s iconic masks crudely stapled to every single one of them. Cheap imitations of the original project, born from a man so desperate for a crumb of validation that he’d driven himself mad.

It all started to make sense. 

“Nakayama…” Pip growled.

[Oh…that weirdo? What about him?]

Pip's anger flared, voice rising into a furious growl, and the hairs on his tail bristled as he pieced together the truth.

“That snake! I knew somethin’ was wrong!”

The digital consciousness blinked through the ECHO eye as if trying to process his own disjointed memories to make sense of the redhead’s outburst. 

[What do you mean?]

"That jealous git altered the whole bloody project! That’s why ye’re all messed up!” he barked, pounding his fists on the table, rattling the glass dome.

[Woah, hey, easy! Your stupid tantrum’s gonna mess me all up!]

The cursor paused for a second as if to process something. If a face were projected on the screen, it would grimace in disgust. 

[...So that’s why I know so much about his genetically altered cheese collection…]

The marauder sunk in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t believe this…how could I let this happen?” He let out a defeated sigh. “Months thinkin’ yer data was corrupted. Turns out yer whole code was altered from the very start.”

[That sounds concerning. Should I be concerned?]

Pip didn’t respond at first. Leaning back again with his hands on his face, audibly taking very deep exasperated breaths.

“Is this even worth it? What am I meant to gain by this?”

[Hmmmmmaybe to help me regain Hyperion and exact revenge on my enemies? That’s a good start, yeah?]

Jack’s quip went unnoticed by Pip, who had gone quiet for a very long time, then draggin his chair closer to the desk, where he propped his head on balled fists.

“What’s the point anymore? All the things we went through, everything about us is gone…”

The revelation sparked Jack back into attention. The word “us” lingered in the air. The ocular implant dimmed, then flared faintly, like a thought recalibrating itself. Pip could almost hear the circuits grinding, searching for the right conclusion. 

[Us, cupcake? Is there something you wanna share with the class?]

The marauder snapped his head wide-eyed at the question displayed on the screen.

“P-...Pardon?”

[You're implying we had a little something-something going on. Or am I wrong?]

Pip’s face flushed deeper, a mix of embarrassment and frustration overtaking his rugged features.

“Look, I know it sounds…” he squeezed his eyes shut and huffed through his nose with a little snort. “I worked for ye as yer personal henchman. I did anythin’ ya demanded without a second thought, and... 

His voice dipped.

“…a-at one point, we were close. I mean, I thought we were, at least.”

The cracked cybernetics snapped and buzzed a few times, simulating a laugh.

[Oh, I bet we were real close, huh? You and me, the perfect duo, making everyone jealous]

The marauder clenched his fists, trying to keep his composure despite the AI’s teasing. 

“Ya... ya meant somethin’ to me. And I thought I meant somethin’ to ya too.” He paused, closing his eyes and tucking his lips, nibbling on them. “And then Nakayama, I don’t know what he did, but messed ya up.”

[Nah. You’re bluffing. That sounds freaking stupid]

“I’m not bluffin’, Jack.” Pip growled. 

[Aw, don’t tell me I broke your little heart, buttercup. This is almost too good]

The marauder took a deep breath, glaring with fury and disillusionment, his voice lowering, steadier. 

“I’m not gonna argue with ya about this.”

He pulled out a worn-down ECHO drive from a secret compartment he had within the drawers of his desk. It was carefully tucked between the folds of a piece of cloth. His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled the cable loose and gently inserted it into the massive computer. His fingers glided with swift precision over the dashboard as he brought up multiple files, almost as if it were part of his routine. He hesitated, looking at the electronic device through the glass dome one last time before playing the first recording.

The video crackled to life, presenting Pip’s and Jack’s faces. It appeared to be a video-call between them. 

“So, you made it out of that bandit den, huh? Good for you, Pipsqueak.”Jack wasn’t showing his usual cocky demeanor; it was softer, almost affectionate, though still laced with characteristic sarcasm. “Had me reeling after you stopped responding.” “Yeah, dropped me communicator while I was in the middle of a chase, but everythin’s fine and dandy.”Pip huffed breathlessly, his face was caked with mud and blood yet he kept shining a bright smile. “Are ya forgettin’ who y’are workin’ with, Jackie?” “I’m just keeping tabs on the times you return to Helios in pieces. Medical equipment is expensive y’know?” “Ya were worried about me, admit it.” “Worried? Nah. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little...on high alert.” “Suuure. Ya owe me dinner after this.” “And I’ll get you that meal plus your favorite jelly donuts as long as you don’t make my crew scrape you off the pavement again, m’kay?” Both men laughed with comfortable familiarity until the recording ended.

Pip sat quietly, looking up at the screen. 

“We... we had each other’s backs. Ye trusted me.”

Jack’s AI remained still, the flicker in the eye dimming, whirring as he processed the clip. Pip continued, pulling up photos next. Grainy images of the two of them, side by side in various situations—celebrating after a successful mission. Posing during many of Hyperion’s business events. Even a rare moment of camaraderie between the two, where Jack was genuinely smiling. 

It wasn’t forced, not even slightly fake.

Finally, the marauder opened an audio recording he was too anxious to play. It seemed very important and personal. A piece of media he’d kept hidden, perhaps even abandoned. It was played once and never again since. His fingers trembled as his index slowly descended on the play button.

“Heya Pipsq-... ah... Pip. Before I head into that Vault, I just want to say—thank you. You’ve been amazing. Seriously, I couldn’t have asked for a better hench- no, a better partner in this madness. I was thinking about what you said to me, trying to get me to reconsider, and I know you’re worried. But trust me, I got this. I’m the hero here, remember? And heroes don’t die. They come out victorious all the time. So I’m walking out of there with the Warrior by my side. And those bandits? I'm gonna make it rain molten agony on them, or my name isn't Handsome Goddamn Jack. You’ll see. This isn’t goodbye, Pip, just a quick ‘catch you on the flipside’. We’ve still got plenty more to do, especially with our little secret science project. So keep that faith. The universe better brace for what we’ll bring. I l—uh... I’ll see you soon, m’kay? Kay.”

Jack’s final message before facing the Vault Hunters. His voice was confident. Tired but sincere, as he spoke through the crackling static. 

The room fell quiet as the recording ended, carrying a silence that weighed more than any possible argument or explanation. Pip looked up at the ECHO eye as if Jack were there in person. His expression was softer now, more vulnerable as the memory reopened an old wound. 

“That’s what we had, Jack. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was special. At least, it was to me.”

The AI’s electronics whirred again, and the usual bravado drained from his responses as he struggled to absorb what Pip had shown him. There was a moment of hesitation before he finally spoke, his tone no longer teasing, but tinged with something that almost resembled... disconcert.

[I... I see. Well, that’s a lot to take in]

Pip swallowed hard, forcing a small smile despite the ache in his chest. 

“Yeah, well... now ya know.”

Jack's processors hummed quietly trying to reconcile the images and recordings with the fragmented data banks that served as his memory. His gaze lingered on Pip, the strange man who supposedly had meant something to him—something more than just another connection in a sea of countless interactions. But the memory was elusive, like trying to catch smoke with his hands.

For a moment, the AI's usual confidence wavered, replaced by a hint of doubt, maybe even fear. Then he blinked, and the vulnerability was gone, replaced by an immediate defensive tone.

[So that’s your game, huh? You show me some carefully edited footage and hope I’ll just... what? Believe I was besties with some delusional monkey-man who insists we had something special? Well, take a number and get in line, Pipsqueak. You’re not special]

Pip’s shoulders slumped, with the brief twinge of hope in his eyes fading fast. He felt his heart crumble into a million pieces and even began to question the effort he spent trying to reactivate the AI from the shattered piece of useless hardware he fought so hard to retrieve. He had pushed his only friends away by isolating himself for months trying to succeed in his mission. His fury brewed up like boiling water, he wanted to break everything in that very instant. 

“I’m not messin’ with yer head, Jack. I’m just... I’m tryin’ to—”

[TRYING TO WHAT?]

Jack interrupted, the text rushed in bold letters. 

[YOU THINK I’D JUST BELIEVE I WOULD BE ASSOCIATED WITH SOME FREAK LIKE YOU? NEWSFLASH, CUPCAKE: I’VE HAD ENOUGH LOSERS SHARING THE SAME CASE OF MASS PSYCHOSIS. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU OR ANY OF THIS NONSENSE!]

That became the last straw. 

Pip’s breath hitched. His vision blurred, heat burning behind his eyes as his teeth bared on instinct. His tail lashed hard enough to rattle nearby equipment, his claws digging into his palms as he shook, fighting the animal urge clawing its way up his spine. 

Oh crap…

With a raw snarl, he raised his arms, fists clenched tight, and brought them down—

Then stopped.

Panting.

His knuckles hovered inches from the glass dome.

The screen flashed violently.

[PLEASE DON'T!!!!]

Pip grumbled, covering his face, letting out a strangled sob before laughing painfully and composing himself. He couldn't bring himself to destroy the ECHO eye. He just couldn't.

“Ya know what? Forget it. I’ve got a lot to do before I can get ya hooked up to the new bloody body and relieve myself from this shite.” 

He turned away, the hurt clear in his tone.

“So then, I can finally strangle ya meself with me own hands.” 

The shift in his voice deepened to a monstrous, unsettling tone, signaling that he was no longer interested in being vulnerable and marking himself as a threat. 

Jack watched Pip for a moment longer, a faint trace of something—guilt, maybe—lingering in the depths of his synthetic consciousness. Irked, he moved on. 

“It’s always the obsessive weirdos…” He thought. “Why do I keep attracting these types of freaks?”

As Pip busied himself with the preparations, the room settled into a tense silence, the air heavy with the weight of things left unsaid. Jack’s thoughts churned as did his mechanical confinement. The lines between what he was and what he had been were blurring in a deeply unsettling way. 

For now, he decided to hold that thought as focusing too hard on it would bust the ocular device, given its poor state.

Hours passed, and no more words were exchanged.

Eventually, the exhausted marauder finally hit his limit and lumbered away, dropping limp onto a hammock made with a torn tarp and rope that he propped nearby, curled up like a kitten with his tail loosely drooped on the side. He left the computer running a routine diagnostic of his progress, and Jack's AI quietly took this opportunity to sift through the files linked to his core. 

He wasn’t supposed to be doing this—his mere presence was a blink away from fading, and he had to stay put for the sake of his survival—but something gnawed at him, a deep, persistent curiosity.

The files were comprehensive ECHO logs detailing their operations together. They were filled with moments that Jack could barely recall and yet seemed so genuine. It was all noise for him, still. He needed more patience to attentively sit through all of them.

Tactical discussions, mission logs, personal diaries, candid recordings of late-night drinking sessions that blurred into early morning…

It was a lot. 

The AI could only go through a few at a time before he began overheating. However, what little he managed to dig through only raised more questions, and made his denial falter, much to his frustration. 

But how could it be? Well, he did remember some things, all minus Pip. It was like reading a story about someone else’s life, someone else’s emotions, grafted onto his consciousness without his consent. Yet the files were clear, detailed, and painfully sincere. 

If he allowed himself to believe, even for a moment, that this had all been real, what did that mean for him then? 

Revulsion bubbled up inside him like a reflex, a defense mechanism against the avalanche of feelings he didn’t want to confront. But there was also a deep, almost instinctual fear beneath it—a fear that maybe, just maybe, he was more fucked up than he wanted to admit. His life, his essence, was hanging by a thread, and now that thread was fraying by the minute.

Jack shut the files down, forcing them back into the recesses of his data banks, trying to bury the disquiet they stirred within him. But it was already too late. The doubts had taken root, and they gnawed at him, refusing to be silenced, swarming at him like furious varkids threatening to devour him as punishment for meddling too deeply in their nests. 

Was he just trying to evade the truth because it was too embarrassing to accept? Too existential? Maybe Pip, just like Nakayama, somehow manipulated the data, trying to fabricate a connection that had never truly existed. But something, somewhere, tingled within the depths of his subconscious. Like a deja vu of sorts. The more he thought about it, the more tangled his thoughts became, and for the first time in a long time, Jack felt truly lost. 

More lost, actually.

For now, all he had to do was wait while stewing in the murky blend of his tainted artificial thoughts. Yet even as he tried to push it all aside, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if this was what was left of himself, his legacy. Was this hell? His hell? Could he really trust this Pip-guy to make things better, bringing him back to life, to his new self, to start all over again? What would he even do if it worked out? 

Helios was gone. His stronghold. His proudest project—one of many, at least.

Just as Pip asked, was it truly worth it? What would he even do now? He had no loyal accomplices left, none who would receive him with open arms…or any that were even alive, for that matter. All he had left to look forward to were awkward interactions with what hypothetically would be his ex.

Were they still technically together?

Actually, scratch that last part. It was absurd.

He felt useless, helpless. There was no easy way out from this other than…

No…

No, no. 

He couldn’t just give in to the idea of ending his own existence like that. He already knew what digital ‘death’ felt like, and it was more agonizing than anyone could imagine. Probably worse than actual death itself.

“F-... damn…” 

Like a miracle, the burden of his thoughts was suddenly lifted by the sound of Pip’s quiet sobbing. Jack turned his attention to the marauder who seemed to be crying in his sleep. 

Maybe, just maybe, for a brief microsecond, the AI felt a twinge of sadness for the guy. He didn’t know where that feeling came from. It wasn’t in his style to feel bad for somebody. Jack watched until Pip stood up, lumbering slowly towards the large glowing tank with his clone inside, and crawled on top of it, curling up as tears never ceased to roll down his rugged face.

God… it was hard to watch.

There was nothing else for him to do in the stale silence. Forced to remain awake as some kind of psychological torture.

Jack opened the files again with resignation, having taken a step back to recollect his thoughts. He organized them and, one by one, studied them as long as he could stay active.

SYSTEM DIAGNOSIS 7% COMPLETE FIFTEEN HOURS REMAIN

It might take a while…