002 ▷Hyperion Yellow
It was akin to the adrenaline rush of downing that seventh whiskey from the dare of a few mutually inebriated buddies at the expense of the following morning’s hangover. Thunderous pounding in his temples were reminiscent to the quick strike of an empty glass hitting the bar counter. Gods of the sea continued an endless mid-war battle in his stomach and goddamn; he wanted to hurl. As unwilling eyes opened from prolonged immobility, his vision blurred and sharpened until it found the proper adjustment. Lifting his torso provided a beastly groan and a quick grasp to his head like so many times prior. This was, however, like no previous late-night binge. He arose not to the familiar atmosphere of his room, but instead a room that was far too cold, far too white, and smelled far too much like cleaning solution.
‘’ What the hell? ‘’ He murmured in clear irritation. Vision wandered his surroundings with an unhindered confusion and this brought only additional annoyance. While everything about what happened before he awoke and why he awoke here was unclear, there was a single fact he was solidly aware of:
Handsome Jack had died.
But.. no, no. Heroes.. heroes don’t die.
Enraged, Jack threw off the hospital sheets from his lap and got himself dressed in a hurry. Making a b-line for the exit ( along the way ignoring the shouts of multiple nurses ), he found himself surrounded by citizens at the entrance of the hospital. Providing the drop of his jaw in disbelief, the ( previous? ) CEO furrowed his brow at the sight. This wasn’t Helios, nor Pandora for that matter. Perhaps one of the Edens he had not yet visited? He scowled as his sight flew back and forth to find some sort of sign of his location ( or perhaps he was looking for a sign that this was just a shitty, unhinged dream ). With a glimpse from his peripheral vision, Jack caught something of familiarity; Hyperion yellow and ECHOeye blue.
‘’ Hey, HEY. ‘’ Jack called out, cutting off the citizen adorning Hyperion tech. ‘’ Alright, listen here, doll face, ‘cause I’m not in the peachiest of moods for selective hearing: tell me where the hell I am and why I’m here and I won’t cut your clavical. Probably. ‘’