Written for Yuletide 2012. Because Borderlands is fun ok geez. (This whole thing could be better, but um, live and learn~)

John's workspace was a small, cramped cubicle. He had one tiny desktop computer, its monitor barely half the size of a dinner plate. His mouse was a shitty little thing where it took a dozen clicks or more to open any program. Its processor was ten or more years behind, and the only thing that made the stupid thing work was by hitting the computer repeatedly. John learned early on that the only way anything would ever go his way, or work well for him, was by force.

"Piece of…fuck!"

But hey, at least the job paid… enough.

"That is company property, John."

The man whipped his head around, his hand raised in mid-swing from giving his computer's daily beatings. "Sorry, sir. Mister Tassiter, sir, I was just… fixing some technical problems." He glanced at the dents of the computer case and inwardly cringed. It would be his balls if his boss saw the extent of the damage, so he tried to take the other's mind from the sight. "Oh, have you lost weight, sir? You're just so incredibly fit."

The Hyperion president was a tall man, his face clean-shaven, and his hair professionally slicked back with pomade. He suits were always neatly pressed, as if he had just plucked them out from the dry cleaner's very hand just five minutes before. He stared down at John in his wrinkled t-shirt, frayed jeans, and bed hair, his mouth (did he use lip balm?) curled in a frown.

Mister Tassiter wasn't much of a fan of Casual Fridays.

"Uncultured swine," he heard the man mutter, making no attempt to say it any lower. "Do you always dress so savagely?"

"I… sir, it's just that today's-"

"If you come across any more technical problems, call the IT administrator. Do you understand that, you little code monkey?"

John would have incredibly vivid fantasies of popping out the president's eyeballs and stuffing them down the man's throat about… eight times a day, give or take. Such wonderful daydreams really made the work shift just a tad more bearable.

"Yes, Mister Tassiter. It- it won't happen again, sir."

The president simply shook his head and walked away, off to another meeting to attend, another deal to make, another six figure to collect. John ground his teeth and sullenly turned back to his flickering monitor. Just when he was about to smash open the screen, a familiar voice floated through his little cubicle in hell.

"Yeah, that guy's an asshole." A woman leaned over the grey-colored wall, face perched on her folded arms, staring down at John with a crooked little smile.

He raised his eyes to her, grinning in turn. "Oh yeah? Didn't notice, thanks for the heads up."

"I can see you're having a fun first week."

"What gave it away?" He leaned back in his swivel chair, staring at the small strand of black hair that hung over her left eye. He had this indescribable urge to brush it away.

"I dunno, you seemed to really enjoy sucking his dick just now." She winked. "I think he liked it too. Should I have been watching?"

John felt like he should've gotten mad at her for the comment, but instead it made him laugh, something he hadn't done after a dreary seven days in this corporate dump. "You're a real treat, Sarah."

"Oh, John, sucking my dick isn't gonna get you anywhere." She flipped her hair and lowered back down into her own cubicle, out of his sight.

Things were brightening up already.

Barely a year after they were married, Sarah got pregnant. John felt himself get practically giddy at the prospect of becoming a father. The downside to it was that his wife was gone on maternity leave, leaving him alone in his tiny cubicle with no one to banter to over the wall. That and Mister Tassiter kept riding his ass about his projects, about his broken down instruments, about his still slow as shit processor. But he was having a kid. Nothing could change that, not even his boss' insults.

And then he saw his little girl in her arms. "What is that on her?"

Long, flowing lines covered the baby on one half of her body, stretching from her scalp to the bottom of her left foot. The designs were fanciful, too perfect to be an accident or an anomaly or anything of the sort. They were of a blue color, looking almost normal- until they glowed, brightening then dimming at intervals.

There was not much known about Sirens- the general agreed-upon explanation on them being "crazy ass bitches" with "crazy ass powers," and here they had a tiny one that was their very own, all their own.

Sarah burped their little bundle of joy over her shoulder, saying her next words very carefully. "This doesn't change anything, you know."

"No, no, what? Pfft, geez, Sarah, what do you think of me?" John chuckled, hoping it didn't sound so forced.

"I know you've been looking for a break to move up in the company." She stared at him. "I don't want you thinking that this is some sort of sign or any other bullshit like that."

"Honey, I know I'm a dick, but come on." He tugged on his daughter's little hand, the one inked with small circles and curves. She giggled at the touch, pulling on his thumb. "I thought we were deciding on a name today."

"I already did." Sarah held up the baby a bit higher, her face softening. "Angel."

"…Really? I was kinda hoping for something a bit more original, ya know?"

His wife smirked. "You had something better? From what I remember, 'Princess' wasn't it."

John made a theatrical sigh. "Fiiine. At least it's better than that other one you had, Ass Turd or whatever."

"Astrid."

"Eh, to-may-toe, to-mah-toe, whatever. You gonna make dinner or what?"

His grandmother had this favorite saying, something about "spare the rod, spoil the child," or whatever stupid bullshit. It was probably that, but whenever he thought back on it, all he could remember was the horrible screeching of her voice when she would ask him just why he was bleeding on the carpet, etc, etc.

And while he hoped his dear old granny would roast in hell for all of eternity, he did learn something valuable from her. He would not do that to his own kid. No, he would be a good father. The best. His daughter would be bragging about him to all her friends, because man, what an awesome father he was!

Besides, taking care of a kid didn't sound that hard really.

He left most of the discipline to Sarah, which really consisted of a light swat on their girl's head whenever she would throw stuff to the floor in her tantrums. And then he would sneak Angel a favorite treat before bedtime, assuring him the role of favorite parent. Easy little things to win his daughter's heart, and Sarah didn't mind too much. (Usually). After two years, he was sure he had it all figured out. Yeah, work sucked hard and Mister Tassiter still beat on him virtually every day, but home life couldn't be any better. He even stopped paying attention to the markings on Angel's skin.

Then at 3 AM one night, his couch caught on fire.

The smell of burning polyester and…whatever else couches were exactly made of filled his and Sarah's bedroom. He had hopped from his bed, rushing toward Angel's room, finding the space with its neon pink walls completely empty.

"Angel?" He ran in the direction of their living room. "Angel!"

And she was there, one pudgy fist raised to her eyes, clothed in flowing pajamas. The orange flames dancing on the couch's surface illuminated her face. Gathering her up in his arms, away from the fire, he nearly missed the glow on the skin.

Sarah had grabbed a fire extinguisher on the way (she had insisted on having one around, so he knew right away she would never stop reminding him of this incident) aiming the nozzle toward the flames. After a long hiss, foam splayed out on their floor, the fire dying out quickly.

He handed Sarah to her reflexively, watching as her hands felt along their child's head, her arms, her face. "Angel, are you all right, baby?"

Sparks flashed from above their heads. The light fixture embedded in the ceiling had broken apart, an expensive and decorative chandelier-like contraption. "That fucking cashier sold us a defective one," Sarah said with venom.

"Wait a sec," John said, looking at Angel's tattoos, now as dull as the dark around them. "Angel, why were you up?"

The girl bowed her head, her guilt painted all over. "Was thirsty."

"So why didn't you go in the kitchen?"

"Dark. I…tried turning on the light."

She had such clear eyes, the kind that you could just see through. And Angel knew it. She kept her gaze away from his.

"I just closed my eyes and dreamed."

Over the next three years, John was really beginning to believe that the rumors about Sirens were pretty much true. Moody things with unstable powers to back up their threats- and it was more terrifying when you saw it coming from a five year old ranting about her icky vegetables.

Angel was really a temperamental kid. He knew how his grandmother would react, that he had given Angel so much room, that a child needs old-fashioned discipline to stay on the right path. I mean, look at him, right? It was all thanks to his dear old grandmamma. He really wished he had punched the old hag in the face, just once.

It's not like Angel was doing all these things on purpose.

He and his wife had to have their house remodeled several times a year- for a room that had collapsed, or a fridge that had inexplicably exploded, or their clock just blinking 12:00 forever and never turning off. They had succeeded so far in keeping others from inquiring about their daughter's… special ability, whatever it was. And whenever someone caught a glimpse of the blue tattoos, they would always supply the excuse of their little Angel having played with a permanent marker again. "Ha, kids, you gotta love the little fuckers, right?" John would say, all smiles, all sweat.

So he wasn't really sure what got into him when he took his daughter to the "Bring your Son/Daughter/Pet to Work" day. Probably because he had been drinking heavily the night before.

His piece of shit monitor was completely turned off when he got to his cubicle, and was doing all he could to not curse out loud in front of his daughter (at least not where other people could hear him). He was just about to settle for throwing the thing out the goddamned window when he saw Angel staring at the blank screen with the strangest look in her eyes.

"Angel, baby, can you stop… being weird for a sec?" He hoped she wasn't about to start another little accident, like summoning the devil for example, or whatever else equally as damaging to his payroll. "Angel?"

The monitor turned on, its screen unusually bright. The desktop wasn't his own, (meaning there was no hot chicks to be found anywhere) exhibiting another's icons, another's files, another's passwords. Angel's tattoos started to glow.

"What the…" John looked at the monitor. There were databases on the screen- databases only admissible to the highest authority. He clicked on the email program, finding files written in Mister Tassiter's name. There were addresses, there were resources and letters and company info that no code monkey had any right to be looking at.

When asked by her father just what she did, Angel only shrugged and said, "I was just looking around. Don't be mad."

"No no no! Of course not." He picked up his daughter, twirling her in the air, making her laugh prettily. "I love you, Angel. You're a good girl."

Even Sarah had to admit that Angel's power was an intriguing thing. Though more of a technical researcher than a programmer like her husband, she had the authority over what they would do. And research, in and of itself, was generally harmless, right?

"How long do I have to stay here?" Angel complained as she sat on the stretched out leather chair, little wires placed on her decorated arm. "I wanna go play!"

"Later, Angel. Just a little longer and I'll let you have a snack, okay?" Sarah said in her most sweetest voice, her fingers tapping away at her keyboard. Numbers were fluctuating on the screen, computer code flashing systematically. "Now, try it again for me."

"But I'm tired."

"Angel," John said firmly. "Do what mommy says."

"Fine." Angel sat back, closed her eyes. Her tattoos illuminated her body. The computer screens went berserk.

It should've been weird seeing his daughter lie still like that, with electric lights flashing around her like she was stuck in some eclectic thunderstorm. But there were bigger issues here, so he kept his eyes on the monitors, waiting for a sign. He hadn't set up this room in their house for nothing.

"Did she find it?" John asked his wife in a whisper, his shoulders taut.

"It's barely been a minute." She looked on her screen, watching as pictures snapped before them, most of them maps of the galaxy, of solar systems, of stars light years away from their own. But then the flashing stopped, focused on one little sphere that looked nothing at all special.

Mister Tassiter's reports had detailed about the backwater planet called Pandora. It had been brushed aside as nothing important, just a refuse for bandits, for outlaws, a planet made from so many mistakes. But Mister Tassiter was a fucking moron, and John knew about the rumors of the Vaults, of the Guardians that hung around them. He knew, and wouldn't it be a shame for his boss to find out too late that his little code monkey was working on such things?

"There. She's locked onto one of Hyperion's satellites. The rest of this though…" Sarah gestured to the techno babble on the screen, leaving her husband to sort through it all. The code was easy to sift through, and as long as Angel held onto the connection-

The screen went blank. Angel opened her eyes. "I wanna leave now!"

John clenched his fists, counted to ten. She was his little girl, only five. It was fine. "Angel, you don't leave unless we tell you to. Understand?"

The girl cringed slightly, only slightly. "It hurts my head."

"We could all use a break, John." Sarah lifted Angel from the seat, setting her down on the floor. "Go play but don't blow up any squirrels this time, ok?"

"Promise!" Angel ran out happily as John watched. Sometimes, she almost seemed normal, like every other snot-nosed brat.

"I'm this close, Sarah." He sifted through his research papers- embellishments on Tassiter's pathetic reports. "There's something big there at Pandora, and when I find it-

"John," Sarah grabbed his arm. "Look, alright, I know the man's a jerk, but still, all of this-"

"I'm doing this for both of you!" He would do things right, he knew he would. That must have been why Angel was born like this, to show him how! "For you and Angel. Besides, you don't want that fucker ruling over us in that shithole, do you?"

He watched as Sarah twist her lips in thought. She despised Mister Tassiter just as much, and she hadn't been so opposed to her husband's plans. Because she was just as much of dick as he was. (Like true love). That, and sirens were just too fascinating for any researcher to pass up. "As long as we don't pressure Angel too much."

"I know." He looked at the white walls, the fluorescent lights, the small army of machines hooked to the chair. It wasn't enough. If his instruments could be hooked up to Hyperion's massive power supply with its top-of-the-line computers, he could do this much faster.

"We need a bigger place," he said, knowing she would understand. There would be the risk of his boss finding out, of people blathering, but who got anywhere without taking a little risk, anyway?

Some of Sarah's fellow co-workers were also just as interested. A Siren, here in their company. John made sure to keep their plans about Pandora a secret, even whispering it to Angel as they made their way to one of the laboratories. "It's like a game, baby. You remember how it's played?"

"Tell no one nothing," she said back dutifully. The chair was much bigger, the monitors as well. But the lights were brighter too. Angel whimpered slightly. "I don't like it here."

"Come on, Angel. Who's my princess?"

She sniffled. "I… I am."

"And where is your throne?"

She pointed. "Here."

"That's a good girl."

It should've been relatively easy. Angel locked onto the satellites easier, gave info on the world of Pandora through her eyes, through the computer screens. She wondered at the people dancing as sharp sounds hurt her ears, at bright red splashing against the ground. "They're playing!" John would say. "Nothing to worry about."

It should've all been easy.

Funny thing about Sirens. Supposedly only six existed in the universe at one time. Whether it was genetics, or some magic crap, John couldn't really say. He didn't even know why his Angel had been born like that- was such powers in ancestry or something? Latent in his family, or Sarah's? And why only six? So far, the only known Sirens had been women as well. What did any of that mean? That God liked to fuck around?

That was it, he thought, staring at the blood coating the floor. That must've been it.

The year had been good- more than good. He knew about the Vaults, the Vault Hunters, and the thing that lived within one of them. The Eridian were really terrible at keeping in their secrets and treasures- their weapons were scattered all over the planet, lugged around by some mentally retarded bandit that didn't know which end shot out the pretty lights. And the Guardians practically screamed that there was something valuable to find, if only someone worthy enough would come by. Though with Pandora's population mostly comprised of in-breds, such a person was rare to come by. John knew he could be that person.

He was still thinking such a thing when he heard a rumble from across the building -and it was a large building, it took almost a half hour to cross the entire way. Lights flickered on and off, a part of the ceiling collapsed. The only good thing was that it was very late. Much of Hyperion's staff had already gone home, along with Mister Tassiter, leaving only John, Sarah, a few researchers, and Angel.

There were few good things that day.

"I don't know where she went. I-" A man before him had stuttered when he arrived. There was rubble covering the entryway to the laboratory, though not completely. The lights in the hallway had gone out. "One minute, she was at the computer, and… and then I don't even know, it got so bright-"

John was already tired from his mad run to the laboratory, but he rushed over the debris, stumbling through the open holes, into the room where his wife and daughter were supposed to be. Just another late night session, one of many. They had found a communication system within Pandora society, trying to get Angel to hack into it from the satellites. Sarah had expressed some doubts, but they were so close, and John could always sweet talk his wife. How else did he ever get her in the first place?

That was when he found the blood on the floor, when he found Angel laying on the chair, on her side, her whole being practically shining.

How could such a little thing…? "Angel!" She was his little girl. "Angel! What hap-!"

She opened her eyes. Wings sprouted from her back.

The pain was a very real thing, implanting itself in his brain, blinding him from the glow of his daughter's skin. He staggered backwards, his foot stepping on something soft, something dead. What was that thing about Sirens? Not the ones in the universe. Like that stupid little legend, of enticing creatures to their doom? Who would be dumb enough to fall for that nowadays?

Even through the brief image of blue, of a symbol he remembered embedded into the walls of the Vaults, he reached for Angel. It took all of his will to not grab her by the neck, to not scream. She was only a kid, and kids were always such dumb things. He wouldn't hurt her, even though he was aching to take this out on something, to pay for the blood, for the mass that lay by his feet.

"…Daddy…" Angel whispered, clutching at his chest, the glow going out so quickly. Was it because she had been tired, or hungry, or grumpy, or just…?

He remembered the man's shock when he walked out of the doorway, carrying his little Angel in his arms. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and he could feel the line that was traced along his face, burning. "Clean this place up," he told him, walking out of the mess. The blood was gone now. He had made sure to wipe away every trace.

The man stared. "But, John-"

"Clean it up!"

Covering things up weren't so hard. Not when you had threats, or charisma, or just a nice little chain to choke back people's blabbing mouths. Mister Tassiter, the moron, never even noticed the damage to one of his precious laboratories. He had even made the assumption that the reasoning behind Sarah's "disappearance" was because she had finally gotten the brains to leave pathetic John, no doubt taking their daughter with her.

Such a goddamned moron.

Booking a trip to Pandora had been easy as well. Angel had barely talked to him during the weeks, but that was alright. He treated her good, wiped away the tears when she cried out for her mother. All of this only proved to him that he needed to do this, so that such a sacrifice wouldn't go to waste.

A lack of control was the last thing he needed.

The ECHOnet system was quite a remarkable piece of technology, especially for an infested planet like Pandora. He had thought up ways to use it for his purposes, long before the disaster. The files he had found on that day had helped him along the way, manipulating the other shareholders of Hyperion, to convince them to help erect a little station on Pandora. No need to tell the President, he assured them. It would only be a waste of time, and there were so many secrets to hold, and what if a couple of them happened to fall from his hands to lay waste to their reputations?

The Control Core was vast, barely lit. Hexagonal shapes dotted across the floor. There was the chair, so similar to the one he and Sarah would have their daughter sit on as they tapped away at their screens. He brought Angel forward, who had now come to life once they entered. She struggled.

"I don't understand, Daddy."

John looked down at her and smiled. The mask still took some getting used to. His artificial cheeks felt stiff, and his lips were also a bit numb. But at least this way, he could walk in public again, and keep the Vault symbol hidden away. "Say hello to your new home, darling!"

Angel's eyes widened, looking around the room frantically. She looked at everything but the chair.

He had learned that sometimes a little force was needed.

"Remember, Angel?" He gestured ahead of them. "You're like a princess. Do you remember?"

"Y…yes…"

"And this," he gathered the little eight year old up in his arms, remembering when she used to laugh when he held her this way. "Is your throne!"

When he started to seat her on the chair, she looked like she had been set on fire. Her hands clasped against his wrists. She kicked out at him with her legs. "I want mommy! Where's mommy?"

"She's not coming back, Angel." Because you killed her. "Now get in the freaking chair!"

"No! I don't want to!"

"This is for your own good!" I'll protect you, Angel. "Now come on, there we go." He forced her onto it, his hands on her shoulders. She was so light, so fragile, it was laughable. "In. The. Chair."

Angel was crying, her blue eyes watering. She hadn't even cried this much when Sarah died. "But… I don't…"

"Angel. This is all for the best. You'll see." He smiled again. It came easier to him this time, almost natural. "Even when I'm gone, I'm always with you, okay?"

"You're leaving me?"

"Just for a little bit! But I need you to do exactly what I say. Do you understand?"

Angel shook her head. "I-"

"You're Daddy's special little girl, remember?"

"Yes…"

He plucked out an object from inside his jacket, a piece of metal fashioned in a loop, blue lights shining from its surface. "Do you remember the password I told you on the way here?"

The little girl slowly nodded her head, the fear draining out of her, leaving her empty. "I do."

"Say it for me."

Her fingers clutched at the chair's sides. "I love you."

"That's a good girl," he said as he tethered the collar around her neck.

When the first Vault had opened, letting out a beast that none of the idiot hunters had anticipated, Handsome Jack felt pleased. More than pleased, really! Eridium flowed out from the vault like water, making his fortune, making his goal so much clearer. Poor Mister Tassiter just couldn't understand, even when he lay gasping for air. ("Go to hell, John!" "It's Jack, you idiot.") He hadn't even known what his company was doing half the time at all until Jack had taken it from under his feet, using it to propel himself to power.

Hyperion was under his control, and so was Angel. The next step was Pandora, and the first thing he needed to do was to get rid of all those walking dicks that called themselves Vault Hunters. Especially those Sirens. They were a menace to society- or whatever semblance of a society there was on Pandora. Ah, but there still so many things to do, like his little experiments with Eridum on skags and rakks and other gross things, and his construction of the city of Opportunity. At least he had gotten his dear old grandmother to move onto Pandora. Eridum Blight really suited her well. And then, there was the Warrior.

Things needed to be remade for the better, after all. Just look at him.

The Control Core Angel was the same as it had been for years, still as vast and empty, with its throne in the middle. Only now, there was a shield, and there were pumps embedded in that shield, its energy flowing into the woman floating above that throne, a heavenly thing that always made him smile.

"Hey, baby girl."

She didn't answer right away. The dozen screens up near the ceiling flickered slightly. Her tattoos glowed a bright blue against her skin.

"Executing phaseshift." The shield dissolved, tiles of it fading away.

Her eyes were still that clear blue, matching her wings, matching her tattoos. She held a cone-shaped object in her hands, the valuable Vault Key, lines of purple slicing through its sides.

"I told you I would be back soon!"

"Yes," Angel said. Part of her left scalp was exposed, the rest covered by her dark hair. Just another accident that had been remedied quickly enough. "You always do."

He walked up to her. In response, she lowered herself to the ground. She was thin, having only fed on Eridum for years.

"You still haven't found the Warrior, you know."

"I know." She winced in guilt, turning her head away. "I've been trying. I've been contacting more Vault Hunters and-"

"Eh, eh, getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?"

She held her breath, fingers digging into the cracks of the Key. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"That's alright, Angel. I'm a forgiving guy." He pulled her into a hug, his daughter easily slipping into his arms. After a day of slaughtering bandits and feeding an annoying researcher or two into a skag pit, seeing his daughter always brightened his day. She was his eyes and ears, and he was the hand that slapped some sense into this degenerate planet.

Because he needed a safe place for his daughter. And he would mold Pandora into one.

"Remember, Angel?"

She looked straight at him, tilting her head slightly to the left. "Yes?"

He grinned. "I love you."

Angel nodded, saying nothing back.