Sure, the stalker parts of his DNA were fine with this, and the parts of his DNA that were some strange Terran animal called a ‘peacock’ didn’t seem much more bothered by the lack of anything engaging, but that was a given. And, really, the scientists were likely only taking those pieces into account, here. They liked to ignore (or some of them simply forgot) that one third of his DNA was human… Or at least it seemed that way.

One would think that if they remembered, they’d try a little harder to give him some sort of recreational activity. From what he understood, humans hated being bored.

He flicked his tail, pawing at the dirt with his front paw, examining the toes that were nearly human fingers with the interest of someone who had nothing better to be doing with their time. He huffed out an annoyed sound and scraped some of the damp soil into a vague semblance of a ball.

He wondered if the scientists knew how much of the stuff they showed to him actually stuck around in his head. He wondered if they knew how much he understood. They probably didn’t, he reasoned, or they probably wouldn’t talk so freely when he could hear them.

Blue and green mismatched eyes flicked their gaze around, searching for the ‘hidden’ cameras in his enclosure, then up toward the sky high above him.

Another annoyed sound as he looked back at his lumpy mudball.

… It was better than nothing.

He batted it gently with his front right paw, sending it rolling off to the left, just far enough for him to bat at again with his opposite paw. He occupied himself like that for a little while before giving up and crushing the ball back into the soil. He’d give anything for something to actually do.

Jack always gave him things to do. Jack seemed to be the only one who understood that he wasn’t just a dumb animal. Jack gave him puzzles and things to sort through. Jack would hand him ECHO pads and tell him where they went, and let him carry them to wherever that was and put them away.

Clearly Jack hadn’t told the scientists about any of that.

Tim wasn’t surprised, really. He’d want the idiots here to figure out his level of intelligence all by themselves. Tim just wished they’d hurry up with it. He’d been with them since they made him, however long ago that had been, and they really should have picked up on this stuff sooner.

“Timothy!” One of the scientists called, preceded by the hiss of his enclosure’s door sliding open.

He turned, lashing his tail in mild annoyance, and approached, sitting down in front of the door when he got there. Watching the scientist with an unimpressed glare that Jack would have been proud of, the experimental creature wrapped his tail around his legs and waited about as patiently as he could. Thankfully, this scientists was one of the few who seemed to be picking up on his higher level of functioning.

The scientist smiled at him, marking something on his clipboard. “Good morning, Tim. Would you care to accompany me for your weekly tests?”

No, Tim wanted to say, I would not care to accompany you, but he knew that whatever would have come out of his mouth wouldn’t have been understood by the man. So instead of bothering trying to speak, he stood and flicked his tail to display he wasn’t really happy to have to do these tests yet again, but stepped out of the enclosure nonetheless.

He did like this scientist better than the others, he had to admit, because as well as speaking to him as if he understood, the man didn’t bother restraining him or leashing him when they walked through the facility. That was nice. He hated collars and leashes and having his beak tied shut. Walking freely was a freedom he didn’t often get outside of his enclosure, and a freedom he therefore cherished.

“Have you been given enough food?” The scientist asked as they walked, “I noticed there was less than usual today.”

Tim nodded his head, but lamented not being able to explain that they’d realized he wasn’t eating as much as they were giving him and were trying to conserve food by giving him meals closer to the amount he ate on average. He wished they’d make some sort of translating device for him. That’d be cool.

Maybe he should learn how to read and write so he could put the idea forward.

He made a derisive noise out loud at the thought. The likelihood of him being given the materials for that with no way of asking for them was incredibly low. Nonexistent, really. Even Jack wouldn’t think to try and provide him with things of that nature.

Sucked.

Whatever, though.

“Is something bothering you, Tim?” The scientist raised a brow.

He shook his head, clicking his tongue boredly as they continued to walk.

To his surprise, the scientist clicked at him in return. He immediately clicked back, and they continued like that until they arrived in the usual testing room. It was the most rousing exchange Tim had ever had with any of the scientists. More interesting than sitting alone in his enclosure, too… Although being alone was better than them sticking him with the full-blooded Stalkers.

They’d done that once.

He was not a fan.

Neither were the other Stalkers.

The tests were the same as usual, once they got started. Blood tests, taking his measurements and weight, checking the barbs on his front legs and talking about how weird it was that they’d grown there instead of on his tail, examining the inside of his beak and muttering about how weird it was seeing a beak on a mostly human face, sorting carefully through the feathers at the end of his tail and gushing about how beautiful they were… It was nothing he hadn’t gone through before.

However, when one of the scientists told him there were still more to do after he’d finished the usual ones, he cringed and wondered what in the hell they were going to do. Would it be an excrement sample? They’d done those before. Less pleasant than the blood tests. He hoped it wouldn’t be that.

But instead of bringing out the tools for that particular test, the scientists presented him with a puzzle much like the ones Jack liked to give him. He perked up immediately, tail feathers fanning out in delight. The scientists made note of the reaction before asking him if he could solve it. And he did―with haste.

They seemed rather impressed, but gave him another with the same request, this one more complicated.

He solved it as well.

He preened when they praised him for his intelligence―he couldn’t help it. He liked praise. But who didn’t?

After several more puzzles of varying types, including some sorting and memory ones, he was presented with what appeared to be a collar.

Given his past experience with collars he reared back onto his hind legs and watched the scientist holding it warily. She raised her free hand placatingly and told him to relax. That there wasn’t a leash to go with it, and that he wouldn’t be muzzled.

She explained, once he’d sat back down with his front paws on the ground, that the collar was a device Jack had ordered they work on specifically for Tim. It was a translator, of sorts, that would need some calibrating to work with whatever animal language it was he spoke.

Knowing this, he allowed her to put it on him.

Then, she said several words, asking him to repeat them back to her. He did so, and was rather startled to hear the words coming out in a voice similar to Jack’s instead of his own. He imagined there was a reason for that, though… A reason called ‘Jack’s Enormous Ego’.

It took several hours for the collar to calibrate completely, but once it had, he found himself laughing about it.

After all―Jack liked to call him exotic before, a mix of three creatures nature would never combine, but what was more exotic than a mix of those three creatures that could talk?

He reached out with his new cybernetic arm for the cup on his desk. It was the only part of him that didn’t twinge and jerk with every movement from stiffness, but unfortunately… Unfortunately he tended to get distracted by the simple silver metal that made it up. Even in the dim light of this old, musky office, it gleamed. He was proud of that. He was proud of the arm in general.

He’d built this arm from scratch, more or less, and it hadn’t been easy in the slightest. It had been his first order of business after getting the building up and running proper. After that he’d made his new ECHO eye.

So many tiny, delicate pieces in that one… So many mistakes to make.

He shook his head and grabbed the cup, lifting it to his lips. Hesitating just a moment longer, he was soon taking a hearty swig of its contents.

Ugh.

Cold.

That didn’t prevent him from taking another drink, of course. It merely led to a disgruntled internal monologue about the quality of the coffee he was still drinking.

No matter what anyone said about him, he knew no one could deny his determination… Or his rising levels of spite. And that spite and determination were what led him to finish the disgusting mug before setting it aside once more. He knew he should have just drank it while it was hotter than the very spite burning through his veins that had led him to drink it in the first place.

The coffee was colder than Handsome Jack’s dead heart, more bitter than Fiona, and about as energizing as being told he was being promoted to Vice Janitor, but all of that in combination somehow gave him the energy to look over the last of the files he desperately needed to look over.

There were still several that he needed to look over eventually, but for now he’d done all he needed to do. He could sleep at last.

He smiled to himself as he stood, stretching out, and stumbled over to the modest nest he’d built for himself behind some ancient-looking filing cabinets, out of view of anyone who might come into the office. Though the likelihood of anyone, even Bandits, coming to the old Atlas building wasn’t exactly high, it never hurt to be prepared. He needed to watch his back down here.

The man with the key is king…

Dragging his hand across the display before him, Rhys rearranged the items into a more manageable configuration―priority tasks at the top, partially covering the less important ones. He nodded, satisfied, and set about examining the first thing on his roster.

Recruitment.

Again.

He almost hated himself for setting such a task as the most important for possibly the ninth time this week, but it was a necessary evil. To get Atlas back on its feet he needed workers. To get workers he needed to recruit. To make himself go out and recruit, he needed to set it as his primary task.

So far, he had two staff members, and neither of them were particularly useful to actually producing anything for the company… Which wasn’t to say they weren’t useful at all, of course. They certainly had their uses.

But he needed engineers. He needed mechanics. He needed desk jockeys. He needed many more workers that he couldn’t really put names to the jobs of when he was running on so little sleep. It’d been at least two days, now, since he’d gotten up from his meager nest behind the cabinets and set to work on several other tasks that needed done. He’d mostly been attempting to recruit during the day, since most of the people likely to be in need of a job he could provide them with would be awake that that time.

He peeked over his shoulder at the one window in the room. Even through the blinds he could see the sun beginning to climb into the sky at last. It had been dark the past couple of days―rainier than he’d ever seen it. Stormy. The place had nearly lost power several times.

But the sun was out now.

It was time to recruit.

He sighed and smoothed his hair back. He needed desperately to wash it and slick it back proper, but running water was precious and better used keeping him alive right now. He’d wash it tomorrow… Along with the rest of his body.

He checked the second priority item once more, just to remind himself what it was.

It was simple enough. Sell a few items to make a little money to put toward repairs and making new items. And paying his workers. He just had to hope he met someone who wanted Atlas wares.

He paced over to his desk, straightening his back and wetting his lips with his tongue. Presentation was important, especially at this stage in the reemergence of Atlas. He needed to look his best.

He converted his main holoscreen on the desk into a mirror app and checked his appearance.

Fine. He was presentable, at the very least. His hair could use some work, and he needed to smooth out some wrinkles in his suit, but for the most part… For the most part he wasn’t looking too bad. He could stand to go another day before he for sure had to change things up and take that shower.

He’d just have to be careful. He never knew when the water was going to decide it didn’t want to work.

He smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit, smoothed his hair back again, and grabbed the duffel bag full of handmade tech he intended to pedal while he was attempting to get some employees. It was heavy, as was to be expected, but that was fine. He could live with that.

The bag itself? Certainly not handmade, but he’d managed to take some time out of his schedule to carefully place an “ATLAS TECH.” decal on it, and seeing that decal? It reminded him of what he was doing with this company.

Yes, Atlas would still make weapons―that was a given. But Atlas Armaments was long gone. Atlas Technology though? Atlas Technology was just getting started. And Atlas Tech was going to be the biggest company on this shithole of a planet, no matter what Rhys had to do to make that happen.

The ends justified the means, as far as he was concerned.

And honey…

Atlas had a grand total of twenty-seven employees, not counting their beloved CEO, and Rhys absolutely preened at the knowledge every time he thought about it.

Yes, there was still a ways to go before Atlas rose from the ashes like an extremely technologically advanced phoenix, but there were twenty-fucking-seven people willing to help him in this endeavor. And, according to his first two hires? There were more waiting to be interviewed.

It made him positively giddy, if he was honest.

His new dream was finally beginning to come to fruition. His hard work was finally going to get him somewhere.

He laughed to himself a bit and threw a glance at his nest in the corner.

The employees had picked out their own places in the facility to stay until Rhys could provide them with housing, but thankfully they all understood that Atlas wasn’t anything amazing just yet. Rhys could pay them, if everything went well, but he couldn’t provide a place for them to stay outside the facility yet. It seemed to ease their minds a bit that he was also roughing it in the facility with them.

Soon enough, they’d have the money to have proper company housing. As long as things kept going well. As long as he was able to keep selling Atlas tech to people who needed it at reasonable prices.

And, see, that was the thing he was almost certain had made him the money he’d earned so far―he was selling this amazing tech at a reasonable price. He wasn’t overselling it or underselling it. He was offering it at more or less the price of the materials and a little labor. People loved good tech at reasonable prices. They ate it up.

As long as he kept doing that, he knew he could make some good money… At least until Atlas was back on its feet. Then he could raise the prices of the goods a little. Feed the people some crap about using better materials for even better tech… Even though he knew very well he’d be using some of the money for exactly the purpose of buying decent materials. For the most part Atlas still had some awesome materials lying around here, though, and he didn’t really need to buy any until the completely tore through what had been left in the storage rooms.

He laughed to himself again and sagged into his chair a bit.

First order of business once the company was well and truly thriving?

Better furniture for the offices in this dump. The desk in here was nice and sturdy, sure, but the chair? He’d sat on sand more comfortable, thanks. And the desks and chairs in the other offices? Miserable. His employees deserved better.

Thinking about having employees made him laugh again, lips stretching into a rather contented smile.

Things were running pretty smoothly right now.

He could probably…

He could probably go lay down, couldn’t he? He could head to bed for the night and get back to what he was working on in the morning. He sat forward again to check, and his smile only grew into a grin when he realized that, yes, he could do this in the morning without any negative consequences.

Hell yeah, he was going to put this off until morning. He deserved a good night’s sleep after all the all-nighters he’d been pulling these past few months.

He flopped into his nest after shutting off the lights in the office and passed right out regardless of his intimate knowledge of how sore he’d be in the morning from spending another night on the floor.

… You should see me in a crown.

Rhys stepped out onto the catwalk above the main floor, beaming to himself with pride as he gazed at the now fully-operating production line. He had enough employees to staff the whole building, with his first two employees having been promoted to the heads of the Security department. They had an entire team of people just as good as they were behind them. And the rest of the facility? Well, it was working wonderfully under several nearly over-qualified Department Heads who actually listened to Rhys when he told them that their department needed to do something.

The main thing being produced at the moment were weapons, shields, and cybernetic enhancements. They’d already sold several dozen cybernetic limbs to people in need of them, and Rhys had gotten a new employee from it―a cybernetics specialist who could help people attach their new limbs.

Everything was going perfectly.

He turned and paced down the catwalk, wandering through the facility, just making his rounds, letting himself be seen overseeing production. It was good for company morale for him to be involved in their day-to-day operations. It helped employees to see that, yes, he was a busy man, but he wasn’t so busy that he couldn’t have a look ‘round here and there.

By making his rounds when he could, he made himself open and accessible to his employees. Made himself seem more like a person and less like an intimidating voice over the intercom that had no body and all the power necessary to fire someone.

Things were going pretty much perfectly, if he did say so himself, though.

He made it through the rest of the day, and found himself beaming yet again when he remembered he didn’t have to retire to his office to sleep (although that had gotten more comfortable ever since the company started making some reliable money and he’d put a couch in his office). He’d managed to get some company housing set up near enough to the facility that he and his employees could walk to and from work.

His home was the nearest to the facility, of course, but he got to work the earliest and stayed the latest, so it was only fair. His schedule had him getting to his office before the facility actually started production in the morning and getting home an hour or so after everyone else had already left. That was okay though. That was how it was supposed to be.

He headed home, yawning, and calmly collapsed onto his bed.

It wasn’t anything lavish―not yet. It was just a bed, and it’d do just fine until Atlas could assert itself a little better. Until he was selling several hundred items a day instead of several dozen items a week. It was better than the nest on the floor, if nothing else, though. It worked for his needs. It was soft enough not to make him ache.

He stared up at the ceiling with a grin on his face.

Yeah.

Things were going perfectly, and, honestly? Jack had been right about one thing.