Chapter Text
You’re standing on the tips of your toes, desperately trying to maintain your balance as the galaxy’s easily most terrifying man is holding you up in the air by your collar. Not to mention he’s holding an Earnest Logan pistol under your jaw. You know that one shot from that gun will not only kill someone, but as soon as the bullet makes contact with skin the victim will burst into flame. What can you say? You’re into weapons. Just... Not in this way. And in this moment, having a legendary pistol so close to you doesn’t take away from your internal panic.
A sadistic grin slowly spreads on Jack’s face as he watches you try not to squirm in his grip. The hot metal of the gun presses deeper into your neck, making you wince. Tears of pain prick your eyes as you struggle to maintain eye contact with him, and you internally kick yourself for not doing research on your boss before applying (well, it was more like volunteering) for this job. But really, what could’ve you done to avoid this?
***
-18 hours ago-
The Hyperion recruitment ship rumbles as it blasts through the atmosphere of Asteria. You watch numbly as your home planet, plagued with pollution, poverty, and actual plague drifts from the view of your window. You hear muted cheers and stifled coughs from the other forty-nine refugees in the passenger cabin. Fifty refugees, including you, out of the two hundred thousand people on Asteria... And the people you left behind. Friends, family, everyone you cared about, left there to die. So no, you’re not as happy to evacuate as the cheer squad on this ship, but you’re definitely not the only one who feels the way you do. A lot of people gave up everything to be here. But looking around at the relief on everyone’s faces, it seems they’re more focused on the fact that they’re no longer breathing the caustic fumes of their planet, rather than grief.
You take a deep breath and run your hands along the glossy canvas of your seat, soaking in your surroundings. You are quite literally out of your element. Everything in here felt... Alien. The plush seating, roomy aisles, bright lights and crisp uniforms of Hyperion officers was a stark contrast to your dirty appearance. With that thought you notice that you’ve been absentmindedly brushing your hair back and straightening your clothes. You quickly stop.
God, you wouldn’t have left if your best friend and family didn’t beg you to. When you applied for the internship at Hyperion, you expected to be able to bring your whole family to Helios. That was what the Officer Charles implied when he interviewed you. Charles mislead you.
Fucking Charles.
You remember the feeling of walking into the interview all too well. The sterile metal room of the bunker, with two guards guarding either side of the door, and about twenty soldiers lounging around on crates and weapon cases. Other than getting checked in, your presence wasn’t acknowledged by anyone. No one greeted you. Not even a nod. But you could feel the burning stares through the helmets of the soldiers as you made your way to the back of the room to the sole desk where Charles waited. He was the only one without a mask or helmet of some sort.
“Hello, my name is (Y/N).” You say, mustering up as much confidence as you could, “I was told I was meeting with Officer Charles?”
He glanced your way with a look of pure disdain. You get the feeling that he really doesn’t want to be here.
“Sit down.”
You sit on the cold metal chair at the desk, noticing that he doesn’t make a move to do the same. If he’s trying to intimidate you, he’s succeeding.
”Why though?” You laugh internally, “I’m not in a position to be a threat to anyone right now. Maybe it’s an ego thing.”
“Is something funny?” He spits, breaking you away from your thoughts and you check yourself. Fuck, are you smiling? No, you aren’t, but maybe you look too at ease. You quickly wipe your face of any expression and sit up straight.
“No Officer, I’m just grateful that you’re taking time to consider me as an employee for Hyperion.”
This seemed to calm him down.
“Damn straight.” He grumbled, looking a little pleased with himself. So he definitely has a power complex.
“Let’s get straight to the point. What makes you think you’re qualified for a job here?” He looks you over, “Tell me what makes you think you’re special, kiddo.”
“Well,” you start, ignoring his last comment, “I’m a firearms expert, more specifically in modifying and designing the hardware and ammunition. I’ve been dealing guns ever since I could pull a trigger.”
“Give me an example.”
“Example?”
“I’m asking what you’ve invented.” He says impatiently.
“I don’t really... Invent guns, per se. I don’t have a brand.” You say carefully, then quickly add, “People commission me to refurbish and amp up the power and efficiency of the weapons they bring to me. I can make a flimsy first generation Jakob’s shotgun into a low-maintenance death machine.”
Charles didn’t seem convinced.
“Sounds to me like you’re a common repair woman.”
“Oh, trust me.” You smile politely, “I’m a firearm connoisseur.”
“Got any evidence to back up that bold claim?” He challenges, circling the desk and leaning on the edge in front of you.
“I do, actually.” You pull out your ECHO device and pull up your weapon inventory. You see a few soldiers from the entrance get up and saunter toward you, their own guns in hand. As you hand your ECHO to Charles, you pray to whatever god there is that it’s impressive enough to not get you shot.
The Officer looks through your arsenal. The longer he scrolls through your select masterpieces, the wider his eyes get. About five minutes pass. More soldiers have gathered around. A few are looking over his shoulder. You can’t see their expressions, but there must be something noteworthy they’re seeing because the tension is so palpable you could feel it in your chest.
“This, uh, these...” He stutters, “These statistics and effects- there’s no way they’re accurate.”
“They are.” You state.
“There’s no fucking way.” He argues, his eyes fixed on the screen as he pulls up your favorite sniper rifle, “Ninety nine percent accuracy? The bullets barb into the target? How is that possible?”
“As the bullet leaves the rifle it goes through a scanner that coats it in an outer shell, which contains the barbs.” You explain, “To make sure the bullet flies seamlessly through the air, the shell has sensors that release the barbs when it hits the target, making the bullet near impossible to remove without lethal damage.”
“And the accuracy? Whats up with the one percent?”
“Oh, I usually put one percent chance miss rate if someone buys the gun and they don’t know how to handle it. I don’t want people to come to me with complaints about how “they’ve been cheated.” If you know how to use a sniper rifle,” you emphasize, “You won’t miss.”
Another long pause.
“Well... Miss uhm... (Y/N).” Charles clears his throat as he regains his composure, “If you’re telling the truth, you’re hired. If you’re lying... You’re as good as dead. But still hired. You seem... Smart enough.”
He eyes the rifle one last time before handing back your ECHO. By this point every soldier in the room surrounded you. You don’t think about this too hard as you’re caught up in your own surprise.
“Really? I mean— thank you! Thank you so much!” You smile brightly, “You won’t regret-“
“Not so fast.” He interrupts and your little celebration ends abruptly, “I need to know a few things before we proceed.”
What? Then why did he say you’re hired? He then addresses the soldiers and guards gathered around your ECHO, ordering them to leave, which they do somewhat reluctantly. Once you’re alone, he speaks.
“(Y/N), how much do you know about Hyperion?”
Uh oh.
“They’re one of my favorite manufactures of pistols,” You say carefully, as you really don’t know anything about the company itself, “I like their-“
“No. What do you know about the inside works of Hyperion.” He asks bluntly, “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
You falter.
“I don’t.” You say honestly. He sighs.
“Listen. You’re a bright girl. And I’m not really a heart-to-heart kind of guy. But I will tell you... Living on Helios is brutal, no matter your position. You could be a goddamn janitor and still be in danger. Do you understand that?”
“Can’t be any more dangerous than Asteria.”
“But it is.” He deadpans, “You aren’t escaping suffering by applying here. You’re trading your problems for a set of new ones.”
You feel like a child being lectured, and frankly, you don’t care for it.
“I have a grasp of that at least,” you nod, “But if we are having a heart-to-heart, please understand that I’m desperate. This planet doesn’t have much time. I don’t have enough money to evacuate my family,” you said pointedly, and he nods in return.
“Alright.” His eye soften for a second before immediately going back to his brisk, harsh tone.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
You both sit in silence for a moment, staring at each other. This is weird, even for you. You’re about to ask if you can leave, but then he breaks the tension.
“Uh, is there any chance I can— I mean, you can give me that sniper rifle?”
***
I can't believe I gave him the rifle.
The ship has entered the loading dock of Helios, and when it lands, cheering erupts among the refugees. You unbuckle your seatbelt and stand up, stretching the stiffness from your muscles. You linger a bit as everyone grabs the little luggage they have and file off the ship, and once the bustle calms down, you grab your ECHO and canvas bag from under your seat and follow out the door.
You squint as your eyes adjust to the bright lights of the loading dock, but they quickly widen at the sight incredible vastness of the place. Holy shit. You tried to imagine what Helios would be like, but your fantasies don’t compare to the real thing, hovercrafts and surveyors fly around you at dizzying speeds, the clamor of people and loader bots disorient you. Home suddenly felt more far away than ever.
You rejoin your people in the entrance lobby. A chic-looking woman with square glasses was leading the group.
“Hey everyone. Welcome to Helios. My name is Yvette.” She smiles charmingly. You feel there’s something a little off about her.
“I’m here to welcome you and make sure you all get situated with your respective living areas. So my job is half done.”
There’s a half-hearted chuckle throughout the group. She retains her billion-dollar smile.
“Right. Before we continue, I’m going to have a few of my guys search your belonging for contraband. Now,” Her eyes scan the crowd, “Is there a (Y/N) (L/N) here?”
You raise your hand.
“That’s me.” You confirm.
“Great.” She chirps, “You’re coming with me. Everyone else, the guides will be with you shortly.”
She gestures for you to follow and you walk along her. You both get to a big set of doors with the sigh AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY on the front in big neon letters. You briefly look over your shoulder to see if the group was behind you, only to see them go through what you think is the main entrance.
“Where are we going?” You ask, furrowing your brow, “Aren’t I supposed to go with them?”
“Everyone goes separate ways eventually.” Yvette says in a completely different tone than her ‘Welcome to Helios!’ voice, “I was instructed to search your things somewhere else. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.” She adds, noticing your expression. You walk through the halls with her, noticing how secluded this place seems to be from everywhere else.
“Your ECHO has quite an arsenal, I’m told.” She speaks up, “When we get to the lab you’re gonna have to hand it off to some engineers for research. You can take whatever you need from it, as long as it doesn’t shoot or explode. You know, standard company policy.”
“So these are labs? Where you guys invent new weapon tech?”
“Well...” she hesitates, “I suppose you’ll be working here one day, it couldn’t hurt to tell you...”
“Is it confidential?” You ask curiously, your eyes meeting hers. She grins, seeming much more genuine now than from your first impression of her.
“Yes, but not extremely confidential. We just don’t want people to mess with weapons around here. Not that people would. Over half of us are accountants.”
“Gotcha. So when do I start here?”
“Whoa, someone’s eager.” Yvette shrugs, “I’m not sure. I’m just the messenger.”
“Ohhh. My bad.” You say sheepishly, “So... Are you an accountant?”
“Yeah. Not a high ranking one though. Working my way up to the top of the food chain, you know how the biz is.”
You give her a “do I really look like I know how the biz is” look.
“Oh. Right.” She snorts, “You got here like fifteen minutes ago. Whatever, you’ll get it soon.”
“Thanks for the encouragement. I need it.” You say half-jokingly, “When I’m a bigshot engineer I’ll make sure to give you credit.”
She looks surprised for a moment at your comeback, then breaks out in another smile.
“You better. Alright, we’re here.”
She shows you to a set of double doors with another security station. She presses the paging button next to the scanner.
“I don’t have the clearance to go in there, so this is as far as I go.” She says, turning to you, “Good luck.”
“Thanks Yvette. I mean it.” You smile warmly. She seems slightly distressed at this.
“Don’t mention it. I hope we meet again.” She nods before striding off in the direction you came.
Then the doors of the lab slide open, marking the moment where everything went downhill.