Chapter Text
“So, what exactly does Hyperion do?”
And there it was. The question. Why did people always have to ask that question? Rhys had been working at Hyperion for three years and he still didn’t know how to answer the question. And to be frank, after years, he was tired of answering it. He was a programmer in their robotics department. Designs and blueprints would show up, and Rhys would do his best to program the robots to do what Hyperion wanted. Some defused bombs, some were bombs, and some seemed were just really grown up toys that were meant to impress people. Each day brought a new and more bizarre project, but Rhys never questioned it. One of the things he’d been told by the stony-faced woman on his first day was to not ask questions and he’d done exactly that. Rhys liked to think that’s how he managed to get the robotic prosthetic arm they’d given him six months later. Hyperion didn’t have a high employee retention rate, but he never questioned it.
The same way Vaughn had told him he never questioned how millions of dollars would ebb and flow from the company’s books. The two of them had been slowly making their way up through the company that way. That didn’t stop them from telling each other the weird things they’d been asked to do over lunch.
“Hyperion is a leader in robotic technology and weapons development.” Rhys told the guy who had been flirting with him at the bar. It was from the description on Hyperion’s website, and that was about as accurate and as inaccurate as it could get. They did more than make weapons and robots. He knew of several departments in the company that had ambiguous names where he’d only seen the employees once or twice. But they did develop weapons and robotics, and as little as they produced, they were good at it. Hyperion was just starting to catch the attention of larger industries for their small batches of what magazines were calling “smart weapons” whatever that meant.
“I heard there’s a drug cartel that stole the Hyperion name.” The guy said as he sipped at his drink. Rhys shrugged and stifled a groan. That was the other question that people always asked him. “How much would that suck? You couldn’t even go after them for stealing your name because that’s probably the most legal part of their operation.” The guy laughed, Rhys wanted to forget he’d even mentioned the Hyperion name.
He’d heard of the other Hyperion, but he’d been assured, that the two were very different operations. Hyperion the Drug Cartel was owned by a lunatic that shot people for fun and spent money like there was no tomorrow. Hyperion the Tech Company was owned by a recluse that had never shown his face. Vaughn had assured him that if the Tech Hyperion was owned by the Drug Hyperion, their spending would have made both companies bankrupt years ago. But that didn’t stop them from speculating anyways.
“Yeah.” Rhys muttered. “Hilarious. I think I’m going to go.” He said. “I have…stuff to do.” And with that, he paid his tab and left the bar, pointedly ignoring the number the other guy had written on a napkin for him.
Vaughn had told him Hillcrest would be a good area for him to meet guys, but they’d all been the wrong type. They all liked talking about themselves and asking Rhys about rumors that surrounded his job, then got bored when they found out he was just a boring programmer. Rhys was too busy for a relationship anyways. Work had steadily been piling up and his superior had implied that if he kept up the good work, a promotion might come soon.
The nice thing about Hillcrest was that it bordered the park, and at this time of night, it would practically empty, leaving Rhys with a good place to clear his thoughts. He just needed to figure out how to get there. He wandered around for a bit, admiring the way neon from the storefronts illuminated the sidewalk and listening to the dull thump of the music from the various clubs. It really was a nice night, even if he didn’t find the park, walking down the streets wasn’t a bad way to spend his time. It was better than listening to self absorbed assholes talk about how much money they made at a bar.
As the area around him got more and more worn down and dilapidated and the streets emptied, Rhys started wondering how far from the park –and his car- he’d wandered, but he didn’t have much time to consider it when he saw a large group of people gathered in an empty lot about a block ahead of him.
A man from an alley stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder and Rhys had to stifle a surprised shriek. “You’re late.” The man growled from the shadows. Rhys tried to make out his face, but the man’s hood was obscuring his features. “Vasquez is gonna be pissed, but you should be fine. Just give me the drive with the coordinates and we’ll be golden.”
“Coordinates?” Rhys asked as he stepped back. The crowd up ahead took notice of him. Shit. What had he walked into? “I don’t have any drives, or coordinates with me.” Rhys said as he tried to break away from the stranger, but the man’s grip was tight in his shirt. “You must be mixed up.” He tried to break away again, but the other man refused to relent. Who did he think Rhys was? Rhys was still dressed in his work shirt and slacks. He didn’t look anything like the men approaching them.
“Is this our guy?” A man from the large group asked as they approached him, effectively trapping Rhys. He was probably twice Rhys’ size and despite his suit, Rhys did not think he was a businessman. No. This was not good. There were masked men with guns, looking bored and they perked when they saw Rhys like wolves finding something to hunt. What had he wandered into? The man in front of him was dressed too nicely for this to be something gang related, but this clearly wasn’t legal, and there was something sharp in his glance.
“He fits the description they gave us but he’s playing around like he’s clueless.” The man from the shadows said. “Show him the money, maybe that’ll make him remember why he’s here and that he has a job to do.” A man in baggy pants wearing a ski mask stepped forward and opened a suitcase full of what had to be the most money Rhys had ever seen in one place at one time. He briefly wished he had a thumb drive he could give them, since the money was clearly meant for him. Well, the man they thought he was. The case snapped shut and he winced, head snapping up.
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rhys started to say when a car pulled up and a group of men jumped out, yelling and shouting. The men with the guns turned around and started shooting, the suited man shouting at them. The sound of gunfire was loud in his ears and felt like a punch to the chest.
A man in red grabbed the suitcase and tossed it into the car collapsing to the ground moments later, full of holes. Shots rang out and two of the men with guns fell before Rhys came to his senses and hid behind a trash can in the alley. He could hear yelling in spanish and more gunfire and peeked out to see the car taking off, tires screeching.
“Somebody fucking chase them!” The man in the suit shouted, face beet red, as the remaining men scrambled into a car and took off after the men that had stolen the money.
“Oh. You’re in deep shit.” The hooded man said as he opened a door and slid into one of the buildings. Rhys jumped up and tried to go after the him, tugging at the door desperately, but it was locked. He was trapped and he was sure there was still a group of very angry people out there that wanted their thumb drive and money.
The man in the suit stepped into the alley, only this time, his face was spattered with blood and he was glaring daggers into Rhys. He was pretty sure if looks could kill, he’d be dead right now. Dead like the men in the street. Wow, that was a lot of dead bodies, and a lot of blood. The air smelled like smoke and burnt rubber, but there was something sickening about it. Rhys felt his stomach churn. “Come with me.” The man said. “You get to explain to Handsome Jack why his biggest trade of the year was just ambushed by a bunch of cholos.”
Handsome Jack. That name was familiar. He’d heard it whispered on the streets and in alleys. The name clicked and all the color drained from Rhys’ face. Handsome Jack was the head of the Hyperion Drug Cartel. Everyone at work knew that. Handsome Jack, the man who would shoot you if you told him something he didn’t want to hear, the man who had more money in his back pocket than Rhys had ever made in his life. The world’s biggest drug lord, and Rhys had just fucked up his biggest deal of the year.
“This is all just a huge mix up.” Rhys said, holding his hands up and stepping back. The man pulled out a pistol. Rhys was going to die. There was no way Handsome Jack would believe him; he doubted the Drug Lord would even listen to him. “I was just looking for the park and I got lost, you don’t understand!”
“Save it for Handsome Jack.” The man said with a smile as he brought the butt of the gun down on the side of Rhys’ head. There was a burst of pain and then, darkness.