Chapter 8: Tower (2)

"You sure this is the right call? They didn't seem all that bad." A guardsman voiced, disappointed. His rifle tilted by his shoulder as he viewed the vault hunter's trot way. Their figures slowly disappear into the arid badlands.

"Especially that lady, she seemed kinda hot. You think she's a siren?" One asked excitedly, his eyes darting towards Liliths' physique. Vulmbitous on the bottom he printed the image in his mind.

"Varcus man, what about that guy with the muscles? He looked like a goddamn bruiser!" Another huffed exasperated by the Mans' figure.

"Stop rubbing it out to the vault hunters. Check the bounty board before you cream your pants. Those people are a security risk. I would be cautious in your approach next time. You don't know what they're capable of." I voiced, disappointed. My voice led them to watch flamboyantly at their numbers.

While my approach was confronting in nature, it was due to scepticism around their bounties. Lilith with her strange tattoos was possibly the biggest threat to my camp, her abilities unknown. He similar to the bandit bruisers was large in frame and muscle. I had no clue about their personalities as well. All four with the exception of Lilith were quite literally canon fonder, the only other possible individual making me exert any tinge of force was Brick.

To describe the fellow he had broad shoulders similar to a tree trunk, veins that seemed vibrant like vines and abs that were toned like stone. He was almost the visage of a bodybuilder if it weren't for his pitiful legs. In comparison to his upper body, his legs were quite lacklustre.

One couldn't simply skip leg day.

Though this may have been due to his height as he stood way above me at 212 metres or 7 feet tall. Steroid use was also possible but that didn't seem to be correct as the signs of back acne or stretch marks weren't seen.

Lilith on the other hand was something else as well, nearing a similar height to myself but not quite she had light blue tattoos that were etched similar to a sleeve, stretching from her whole left arm to her chest. With an alluring and striking charm that seemed to sway the opposite gender towards her. I would admit she was aesthetically pleasing - that was all.

Her attire was a red top, utility belt, brown leather pants and bomber jacket. The shit was not at all appropriate for the weather or environment. Just from her appearance alone, I could gouge a fiery temper and a mischievous tone. Her lack of presentation was merely a trap to lure you in and if she was a 'siren' then most likely had weird powers of some sort. One couldn't rule out alien powers when in a futuristic setting.

When analysing Mordecai his attire consisted of a blend of functional practicality and a hint of a lone ranger's style. He dons a tattered and weathered duster coat, the fabric wore thin from years of use and countless adventures.

Underneath, he wore a simple and worn-out shirt, its sleeves rolled up to allow freedom of movement. Lean, tall and agile he walked with a sharp gaze and worn scars around his hands and legs. Add on the majestic bird and you have a fierce scout on your hands. He was the most useful just from his mere appearance alone.

It wasn't hard to correlate them to their bounties. Indsituisahable by their traits, Lilith had bright red hair with strange tattoos. Brick was built like a brick. Mordecai was the huntsmen with an endangered bird and Roland was the boring soldier archetype with a complicated past - Boring!

Compared to the other three he was dull, his expression remaining neutral at each conversation with a gaze that screamed - "Yeah I'm a soldier and I'm so serious."

I had almost forgotten him for it not been his assassination of an Atlas superior. At least the bandits had personality with their random screams and outer monologues about flesh, blood and skulls.

It had made it all the more pleasant to remove them from this plane of existence when I did. Donning parts of Crimson Lance gear painted black, he had similar ebony skin to me with a diamond edge jawline worthy to crack boulders. This was obviously an exaggeration I was the better-looking individual.

He seemed dull and that brought him from a possible six to a negative four. Dull people were boring and that's a fact. Dull people didn't refer to their energy parameters as in fact you could be dull in social parameters (introvert)and be amazingly interesting. Being dull wasn't an excuse to be boring.

There were few such people such as Ralph who represented this concept well. While one would mistake him for an extrovert the man casually sat in his home for days at a time working on cars. His hate for the village was second to none, in fact, he most likely tolerated my presence due to my similarities to another person.

The man had always had a gaze of reminiscence when hanging out with me that I could not miss. His gift had been an assurance to this theory, with his treatment of Jess a 'child' like me far worse. So it wasn't merely my age but my demeanour that soothed and reminded him. Who I reminded him of? I had no clue. I kinda missed the bastard too, Oldman's probably having a drink right about now. Perhaps, I would need to check on him.

Regardless the ECHO devices that I had given them were tapped. How? Well, I re-routed the recording button to remain active at all times so whatever conversations or discoveries they made would be transmitted back to my ECHO logs.

Was I Paranoid? Yes.

Was I Foolish? No.

I would never allow such a mistake to occur while i knew I would slip up at some point I knew I wasn't going to slip up here.

To further note today had been very productive, with many theories and new information gained. Discussions with Scooter while strange at times were quite enlightening. You see the man while strangely following the stereotype of an individual of Alabama was amazingly gifted with mechanical endeavours. Seeing him improve and list suggestions on my vehicles was quite humbling.

Discussion on his catch-a-rides was also a fascinating insight into molecular reconstruction. You see his business and invention the 'catch-a-ride' held vehicles stored within a subspace similar to an Internal storage Device or deck before being pulled into reality via nanotechnology or as told by the natives 'Digi-struction'.

This subspace was merely a micro-dimension created or entered by the crystal or rocks that I had obtained throughout my scavenged. Named Hyperium it was subsequently found by the Hyperion cooperation and named after it. Although rights to the ore would be made free domain as while they did discover it, they could not hoard it. The ore had properties that allowed for vast amounts of energy to be gathered and stored within without the use of conversion to chemical energy such as modern batteries from earth.

Earth in this apparent universe didn't exist but if it did then its name would be Terra. The planet was destroyed after the majority of corporations railed it to oblivion. It would explain the similarities in cultures yet the distinct lack of cultural awareness. While It was calming to know, it also created a strange cultural barrier between me and the natives of this universe. Jokes and insights into cultures would be slightly meaningless as only the surface could be interpreted.

Insight into the geography of this area was going to be met with drastic measures, Scooters' own map now correlating with mine. Seeing the landmarks I saw that I sat in the middle of the Aird Badlands, similar cities being spread about with New Haven and Old Haven being shown. It was this unknown that sparked my paranoia.

How many towns were around me? How many were captured by Atlas? What was Atlass' method of espionage? Were they inside the town? Could they turn invisible? Did they have a satellite? How far was their influence on this planet?

It was questions like this that prompted me to move. Discussion of the topic revealed the base of operations of the Atlas cooperation, Old Haven. The residence was a former city to a large number of pandora citizens before being raided by bandits. The bandits were then destroyed by the Atlas militants moving in and holstering the position as a garrison.

Anoyying shits were always sending their squadrons over. The size while small always left numerous guardsmen wounded, fortifications of the town needed to be redone due to this. As I kept my beasts outside they would act as vanguard to the possible threats that would converge onto Fyerstone. Their tactics were similar to guerilla warfare. If bandits camped by they would attack in the night or strike their food and resources if they maintained a large number.

New Haven led by Helena Pierce was now the new Sancuatrary for explorers and folks seeking a safe place to live. It would seem I'd need to travel over alone and restack on gear the vending machines barely providing any versatile weaponry. Or possibly get Heleana Peirce to follow under my wing.

Plain and simple the average brand consisted of Torgue, Tediore, and S&S munitions. Analysing the weapons' functionality and quirks some had elemental anointments attached similar to the 'negotiator' - The bullets having elemental properties such as incendiary, corrosion and electricity.

Oh, and explosion if you count it - I don't.

Firstly, Torgue was clunky with black, grey or gunmetal paint schemes and heavy construction. Average in quality, the weapons made by such a corporation didn't excel in a single direction but held itself in regard to normality. Reliable, affordable and maintainable it was a suitable weapon for urban to mixed environmental spaces. Overall, good but not good enough.

Secondly, S&S munitions' it's lack of precision and fire-per-second abysmal. I had a feeling the bullets were sleeping while travelling at times. With a large mag size, it just spat bullets. The bandits of Pandora mostly carry this type of weapon due to its ease of patience and reliability to fire. While trash it could handle quite the stress on its calibre, barrel and stock before being trash.

Thirdly, Tediore was just something else made of cheap plastic and sometimes ceramic it felt brittle on the hand and would almost snap in my hands. Certain pulls on the trigger would often jam it and would sometimes cause the bullet within the chamber to explode. While lightweight and had great reloading speeds it wasn't enough for me to just sit around and have my bullets explode in my face. With a matte grey finish, it belonged in a matte grey trash can.

Lastly, Hyperion was just the worse. Sleek in design and quality Hyperion offered the superiority of the three with its price a tad heftier than the previous three. With its light red and black aesthetic it offered a Gimic of sorts with its anti-recoil stabilisation - the more you fired the better the recoil stabilised.

Due to this, its receiver was much heavier than the previous three. With an increased mag, heightened recoil-stabilisation and compact yet sleek design its more uses are for urban warfare as certain parts of the weapon needed to be cleaned.

With such an array the most quality guns we had were from Atlas yet with fewer Atlas patrols, the weapons became much more scarce to gather (steal). Every guardsman was equipped with two and it ranged from a sniper to a combat rifle.

I too was equipped with their weaponry and while I hate their annoying arses coming to harass me they did boast the best weaponry. With light-weight material, recoil stabilisation, high damage and elemental prefixes Atlas was quite literally at the storm front of weapon manufacturing.

But first I had to stabilise and protect Fyerstone first and foremost. As I had nobody to trust to lead the town while I was gone I could only rely on beasts to remain governance. The few that I 'could' trust were part of the guardsmen but they couldn't exactly 'lead'. None could match my authority or charisma to entice one another. Yes, they could follow orders but that was all - they seemed content with merely patroling.

The previous discussions with Doctor Zed had also all bore fruit, the autonomy of skags studied under his watch. Experimenting with steroids and their lower and two upper jaws found that they defecated exactly where they ate. Yes, they shat from their mouths the discovery was very disgusting. It explained why their vomit stunk as much as it did and why they lacked an anal canal.

The tissue inside their maws was also soft similar to a human lip with their outer flesh (of course) hard and coarse, the feeling similar to bark. The Alpha variant of this species as discovered by Scar (The skag that I had hunted for TK Baha) was doubled in size - the density of both their inner and outer flesh durable to slashes and stabs. Steroid use increased their speed, strength, endurance and size. Although the side effects were increased appetite, heart failure, heart failure and signs of increased fatigue. More testing was required.

Watching carefully at the bus it remained station in front. A large framed man with a black goatee exited. Studying him, my eyes never wavered from his figure - but then again how could they? His lower body was larger than my upper body.

"Hello, friends! My name is Markus Kincaid is your town in need of supplies? It can get a bit thirsty no?" The merchant inquired, his bus still in view with the four gone with the wind.

"Hmm, what are you selling?" I asked, walking over. Gesturing for the guardsmen to follow, they listened and made their way over.

"Haha - Well, I offer food, water, medical supplies and of course my favourite guns!" He exclaimed. Sliding a notch from underneath the bus a large conveyor opened to showcase his supplies. The large board in the system of a holographic display is similar to an ice cream truck. It was pretty surreal, to say the least.

"So how much for the food and water?" I inquired my eyes set on the bottles of liquor near his water barrels - an idea formed within my mind.

"Only a hundred dollars for the water and another for the food." He waved gesturing.

"Hmm, we might need water just in case the wells and pipelines dry up.... I'll take all the water you have on you alongside, the coffee, sugar, kettle and hot chocolate." I requested.

"Hot chocolate?" One of the guardsmen asked.

"Is it wrong to get hot chocolate?" I mused.

"Ah, no sir... Just... Please ignore my previous statement." He replied.

"Look I'm not some monster, I enjoy the simple things too you know." I huffed. It seems my image was getting out of hand.

"Ignore them, what's the damage?"

"Ah, that'll be $2000, my friend. I have a hundred litres of fresh clean water, ten canisters of coffee and ten canisters of hot chocolate, twenty kilograms of jerky skag meat, ten kilograms of sugar - I assure you nothing but the best." He explained.

Nodding I merely transferred the amount to his account- My ECHO device transferred the amount over.

"Hoh, very nice," Markus exclaimed seeing the amount.

"Alright lads anything else you want, I don't mind forking the bill." I offered.

Hearing silence I shook my head.

"Not a single bastard thirsty?" I inquired the guards, my question allowing the alcoholics to show themselves.

"You know... I wouldn't mind a drink..." One asked staring at the bottle of whiskey.

"How much alcohol do you have?" I asked.

"Hoh, I have many! Hyperion whisky, Clix and Maliwan Black label. I have a few bottles and boxes of each - their flavours are a real tongue burner. It'll keep you warm in the winter and give you a good time in the summer."

"I'll take your entire stock."

"Oh, but it won't come cheap friend - The total will cost you big money."

"Did I stutter?"

"Okay, but it comes to $20'000 and remember no refunds!"

Sending the necessary amount I received barrels, bottles and cases of liquor.

"Take them to storage and leave a bottle of each type in my office. Other than that drink responsibility and don't forget your duties." I stated, towards the guardsmen.

"Now your weaponry can I take a look?"

"Please, I insist." His attitude changed to a positive outlook.

While I could tell the man was sceptical at first he knew that I was willing to spend. Seeing many new differing brands I inquired about their specialities and differences. Specific brands like Jakobs, Maliwan, Vladoff and Dahl.

"I'm exactly well informed on the differences between these particular manufacturers would you mind telling me what separates them?" I asked the man. My hand gesturing to the corresponding weapons.

"Hoho, Jakobs is the weapon of the gunslinger, slow yes, but strong! It goes without saying - If it took more than one shot, you weren't using a Jakobs. That is the Jakobs motto and a reason why I have one too!" He smiled, showing the weapon.

"Hmm, so the typical Western iron," I hummed analysing it. With a silver and wooden finish, the weapon boasted a large crackle when fired. Hearing its power bolster through it reminded me of the traditional hand canons back home.

"Good, eh."

"It's impressive for its size."

"It is not the size of the dog that matters but the size of the fight in the dog my friend."

"What of Dahl? Seems average to me." I asked looking at the Dahl weapons. Their designs and emerald pattern scheme are almost similar to the modern designs of my universe.

"Heavy, with decent recoil it supports long distant fire. A weapon used for soldiers and one bested for the strong. It's not a weapon you can carry around so easily I would leave such weapons to the big muscle guys."

Analysing it myself, It featured a frame made of durable materials, ensuring longevity and resilience. The finish was unadorned, with an emerald colour that blended into its surroundings without drawing unnecessary attention.

The firearm operated on a semi-automatic action, allowing for rapid and controlled firing. The grip was ergonomically designed to provide a comfortable and secure hold, facilitating accurate shooting. The trigger guard was appropriately sized, enabling easy access to the trigger while ensuring safety. Overall a decent weapon but a normal one nonetheless - It was the bread of the weapon manufacturers.

"Yeah, don't worry about me you'd be surprised at what I can do," I snickered before turning to face the Maliwan weapons.

"Now Maliwan Is the opposite of Jakobs where Jakobs relies on tradition and simplicity Maliwan wishes to advance further into the science of weaponry. Maliwan only creates elemental weaponry, so why stop at killing a man when you can burn him?"

"So a manufacturer that specialises in elemental weaponry that is interesting," I murmured.

Staring at the Maliwan submachine gun it was crafted with a careful blend of lightweight alloys and synthetic polymers, it boasted a sleek and utilitarian design. The firearm exuded a sense of efficiency, with clean lines and a no-nonsense appearance.

The colour palette chosen for this Maliwan model was modest, eschewing flamboyant hues for more subdued tones. There was a quiet elegance to its simplicity, dedication to practicality rather than flamboyant ornamentation.

As I held the firearm in my hands, I stared impressed at its balance and weight distribution. The grip offered a comfortable and secure hold, allowing for precise control during operation. The trigger guard served as a reminder of safety, a barrier against unintended discharges.

My eyes were drawn to the sights, a modest yet effective aid for targeting. Whether it was the traditional iron sights or the unassuming optical sights, they provided a reliable means to align my aim and acquire my targets.

But what truly set the Maliwan firearm apart was its elemental capabilities. Integrated within its design were advanced energy cells and capacitors, harnessing the power of fire, electricity, corrosive agents, and other elemental forces.

With each pull of the trigger, the firearm unleashed projectiles infused with these effects, adding a unique and formidable aspect to its functionality. With such elemental affectation, I started thinking about the possible weaponry I could create. It won't be long before I start walking around in a mech with flamethrowers attached. The scene of me bodying bandits will be a sight to see. I would need to equip my guards with such weaponry for extra insurance against the skags - all of the Atlas weaponry distributed being neutral.

"Alright lastly Vladoff, what's so good about them."

"If you want something to die fast, then Vladoff is where you want. With more bullets in less time, they offer the highest fire rate of all weapons. I wouldn't usually use them personally - It's strong yes but a money burner, but if you have the pockets it's all yours."

Visually, the Vladof weapon carried a distinct militaristic aesthetic. The colour scheme leaned towards earthy tones and matte finishes, evoking a sense of practicality and camouflage. There was a lack of ornamental embellishments as if the focus was solely on the instrument's performance rather than superficial decoration.

As I gripped the weapon, I could feel its weight in my hands, substantial but balanced. While all weapons felt light in the hand for me it felt just right. The ergonomic design of the grip ensured a comfortable and secure hold, enabling extended periods of use without sacrificing control. The trigger, though simple in appearance, had a smooth and responsive action, allowing for quick and precise firing.

The notable feature of the Vladof weapon was its impressive rate of fire. The firearm boasted a high-capacity magazine, emphasizing its dedication to sustained suppressive fire. It was a weapon designed for those who valued overwhelming force and a relentless barrage of bullets. It was impressive, but the cost of maintaining suppressive fire was lingering.

Taking my time to decide I went for a Maliwan sniper, Jakob's pistol, and Vladoff's combat rifle, the total cost coming to ten-thousand dollars.

"Alright, that'll be all. A pleasure doing business."

"And a pleasure doing business with you, too! And remember come visit me in New Haven if you have the time! I have but the best quality arms and items you can find in all of Pandora!" He exclaimed before entering his bus and zooming off.

Walking back into the Town I was greeted by the concerns of citizens.

"Is everything alright?"

"Who were they?"

"Are they bandits?"

"Everything is okay, merely a salesman, if you have any other inquired please refer to the guardsmen and they will direct you from there."

Making my way through I decided to re-organise and build new structures. An idea formed in my mind when I saw the alcohol. With the town merely housing people not a lot of business growth was occurring due to the constant stream of bandit attacks. But soon, bandits would disappear and more business would erupt.

With such a chaotic time occurring right now, it would be best to start a business and private mercenary group. In both ways, I would have my own military force of combatants and a business to support both ventures.

As with the lack of landmarks, neither food shops nor sources of recreational centres were made. So in this stead, I would start a monopolisation over gambling, alcohol trade and food trade, my end goal to create a biotech company. Pandora lacked a lot of things one of them being rules and laws. While Atlas did control the planet all I needed to do was kill them and drive them away from the planet.

A simple yet stupid plan? yes, but even a large military would falter under a highly ruthless and radical group if pushed hard enough. I first needed to ignite hope and tension against the Atlas forces. There have been numerous examples of such ferocity in my previous world and with an amazing backer (Me) there's no doubt I could take this planet over.

But to first do this I would need to first plan security around the surrounding area and create a mercenary band, to ensure security of course. Definitely not to show dominance and create a totalitarian government with me as its ruler - that'll come later.

It seems I'll have to show my face to the world. But as an individual with no face did it really matter? While my eye colour and skin colour would never change; my face would and could. Besides remaining incognito and having ambitions didn't exactly go toe in toe with one another. To truly achieve 'peace' you either had to decimate all opposition or blend with it. I would go against that grain and decimate all opposition. Remaining incognito would merely stunt my organisation's growth.

To firstly begin this amazing campaign I would need to design an emblem, a symbol of my power; one that would inspire my companions and spread fear throughout the galaxy - one such symbol came to mind.

An X-shaped rune with a bar on the bottom - a stylised skull to be precise, they symbol crimson red. While the Atlas corporation was already stylised in red I wore it better. Stamping it against my armour shoulder piece I stared at smiling. The universe would bow before me and thrive under my mere presence - this was the way.

Deciding to name my mercenary band on a later day, I started to analyse the alcohol present. While I had yet to secure the area study into recreational centres. Las Vegas for example hosted such activities that I wished to recreate. The environment the glamour, addiction and loss of money would be beneficial.

Activites to draw the moths and alcohol to stick them to it.

First taking a look at the whiskey I poured myself a glass. The whiskey in the glass resembled murky swamp water, with a sickly brown hue that made one question its origins. The foul stench that emanated from it assaulted the nostrils, a repugnant blend of musty socks and rotting wood. It was as if the liquid had been steeped in a cesspool of filth and decay.

With great reluctance, I took a sip, only to be met with a vile assault on my taste buds. The initial contact was a harsh, burning sensation that seared the tongue and left an acrid aftertaste in its wake. The flavour itself was a grotesque mishmash of bitterness and rancidity, like a cocktail of spoiled fruit, mouldy bread, and cheap cleaning chemicals.

The texture was equally revolting, with a slimy and oily consistency that coated the mouth in a greasy film. It clung stubbornly to the palate, leaving an unpleasant residue that seemed impossible to wash away.

As the noxious liquid settled in my stomach, it churned with an unsettling queasiness, threatening to revolt at any moment. The lingering aftertaste continued to torment me, a lingering reminder of the repugnance I had just subjected myself to.

I was no alcohol connoisseur or sommelier but I knew trash when I tasted it. Turning to pour the other beers, I examined their contents. The beer appeared dull and murky, lacking clarity and a vibrant hue. Its foam was sparse and quickly dissipated, leaving a thin film of residue on the surface. The aroma emanating from the glass was off-putting, a pungent combination of stale grains, wet cardboard, and a hint of skunkiness.

With great reluctance, I took a cautious sip, only to be greeted by a cacophony of unpleasant flavours. The taste was overwhelmingly bitter, reminiscent of burnt toast and spoiled vegetables. There was an underlying metallic tang as if the beer had been contaminated by rusty pipes. It left a lingering aftertaste of sourness and decay, clinging to the palate like a foul stench.

The texture was thin and watery, lacking any substance or smoothness. It felt as if I were drinking a diluted concoction, devoid of body and character. The carbonation, if present at all, was weak and lifeless, failing to provide the crispness and liveliness expected in a well-crafted beer.

As I continued to endure each sip, the disgust grew, and I found it increasingly challenging to stomach the repulsive liquid. The beer seemed to embody all that was wrong with fermented beverages, a testament to poor quality control and a disregard for taste - in conclusion, this universe beer was shit. Absolutely sinister. Whoever dared to make such a concoction was truly evil, no doubt. And to the mud drinkers that loved this was equally as sadistic as no sane individual would muster the courage to drink all this.

I had a feeling the drinks were either spoiled or this universe was truly twisted. My opinion leaned so on the latter. Creating a makeshift distiller, fermenter and refinery I decided I needed an important vegetable.

Corn and potato.

Yet even then I had no clue if it existed in this universe. Checking the ECHOnet I found that the fruits and vegetables did exist just not on Pandora. I would need to import them from an Agri-world apparently. An Agri-world short for an Agriculture world responsible for the growth and distribution of food to other planets or commerce spaceships.

While attempts at growing vegetation did occur the harsh soil and sunlight made any such attempt futile. The plants were killed before they could even grow and even if they did grow the wildlife would steal them. So, the only potential vegetable that could grow on this planet with a bit of help would be a potato.

I guess vodka it is.

It was questioning this world's ecosystem that made me wonder how exactly the energy is transferred from wildlife to wildlife. With a lack of primary energy sources, something else was feeding these animals and their strange evolutions.

Some even developed elemental powers with an 'Alpha' skag a mutated skag twice the normal size of one being able to spit flames from a gland within its body. Even an electric Skag was present, their three-mouthed face zapping one of my beasts. Perhaps the vaults had something to do with it.

I needed Pandora to become a central hub of trade. Whether it be through recreational centres or slavery, money and life had to travel through this planet - and I was going to be the cause of it all. Vaults were merely a tourist attraction that would soon run dry once it opened. Even mining operations would cease with other planets having less hostile wildlife to mine in.

I would need to ponder on this thought as terraforming the planet did cross my mind. Yet, how could you terraform a planet? What exactly technology did you need?

Perhaps I could give Pandora a soul and then demand it to live again. That was always an option, though my mastery over my powers would most likely need to reach greater heights to do so. Lost in my own thoughts a tiny robot made his way towards me.

"Hey, Lex you free now?" Claptrap asked.

"Sure," I smiled.

"Woooohoooooo!!"

Taking the time to lean back on my chair I swirl under its movable seat.

"Hey, can I sing a song?" Claptrap asked.

"Hmm... I don't know is it any good?"

"I think so!" He exclaimed.

"Alright but if it's trash I'm never allowing you to sing again."

"No worries!"

"Hey, hey, hey, everybody, it's Claptrap here, Gonna sing a little ditty 'bout friendship, clear? In this crazy world of bullets and loot, One thing's for sure, friendship's always a hoot!¬"Friendship, baby, it's the real deal, Gives you that warm and fuzzy feel.

Through thick and thin, we stick together, Like birds of a feather, whatever the weather. From Pandora to the farthest of lands, We're the Vault Hunters, a legendary band. We fight the baddies, and save the day, With friendship as our guide, come what may!

Friendship, oh, it's a treasure untold, Worth more than all the shiny gold. Through highs and lows, we're never alone, Together we rock, in every zone. Now listen up, my little minion friends, Friendship's a bond that never ends. Through glitches and crashes, we persevere, With friends by your side, there's nothing to fear!

So join the party, let's raise a toast, To the friends we've made, the ones we love the most. In this wacky world, we're a crazy bunch, Laughing, dancing, and having a blast, it's a hunch! Friendship, baby, it's the ultimate prize, With friends like these, we reach new skies.

Through explosions and mayhem, we prevail, Together we'll conquer, without fail! So remember, my buddies, wherever you roam, Friendship's the power that brings us home. Claptrap's signing off, but the friendship's alive, With you by my side, we'll thrive and thrive!"

"So Lex what do you think?"

"Just stick to beatboxing and dancing..."

"ok."

*Beatboxing noises*

-

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

The scorching sun beat down on the travellers as they approached the entrance of the long-abandoned mine. It had been a few days since their departure from Fyerstone, the waypoint indicating that perhaps they had arrived at the correct location.

Pictures of the bandit leader Steve and his lieutenants were displayed on their ECHO drives. The information was sent by Alexander who was currently hanging out with Claptrap the two enjoying each others' company.

Steve, the bandit leader, was a menacing figure draped in tattered clothing that barely clung to his scarred and muscular frame. His sun-kissed skin was weathered from years of ruthless desert living, bearing witness to his countless battles and brutal acts. Standing tall and imposing, he exuded an aura of sheer brutality. His eyes, cold and piercing, seemed to hold a twisted pleasure in the suffering of others. Wearing a mask it's iconic style wasn't foreign to the citizens of Pandora.

Lieutenant Wee Wee's clothing, much like his mind, was in disarray. A mishmash of mismatched garments adorned his frail form, bearing the stains of countless encounters. His tattered hat, cocked at an angle, added an element of absurdity to his terrifying presence. The two bandits donning the infamous psycho masks.

Breezing through the air was thick with anticipation as Brick, Mordecai, Lilith, and Roland surveyed their surroundings, their fingers gripping their weapons tightly, but the absence of any immediate sign of the bandits or bandit leader left them on edge.

The mine stood as a foreboding structure, its entrance framed by decaying wooden beams and rocks worn smooth by the passage of time. The wind whistled through the cracks, adding an eerie symphony to the already tense atmosphere. Roland took the lead, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement.

As they cautiously made their way inside, the travellers found themselves in a labyrinth of dimly lit tunnels. The sound of their footsteps echoed, amplifying their presence in the desolate space. Each step was met with a flicker of anticipation, an anticipation that mounted with each turn they took, hoping to stumble upon the bandit leader and bring him to justice.

Hours turned into an agonizing search, the travellers meticulously combing through the mine's winding corridors. The air grew heavy with dust, and the sound of their breathing became the only respite from the silence that enveloped them. Doubt began to creep into their minds as they questioned their sources and wondered if they had been misled.

"We should split up," Roland finally suggested, breaking the silence that had settled over the group. "Cover more ground and increase our chances of finding any clues."

Brick grunted in agreement, his massive frame a testament to his unwavering determination. Mordecai adjusted the strap on his sniper rifle, his eyes narrowing with focus. Lilith, her elemental powers crackling faintly around her, nodded, ready to unleash her fury if necessary.

With a plan in place, they divided their efforts, each traveller venturing down different passageways, their senses heightened. The mine seemed to come alive with the echo of their footsteps and the rustle of their movements.

As they explored the labyrinthine tunnels, the travellers encountered signs of the bandits' presence — discarded ammunition, makeshift beds, and the remnants of hasty meals. The signs grew more frequent, indicating that they were drawing closer to the heart of the bandit stronghold.

But there was still no sign of the bandit leader himself. Doubt began to gnaw at the edges of their determination. Had they been led astray? Were their efforts in vain? Was this perhaps a trap?

Just as frustration threatened to overwhelm them, Lilith's keen ears picked up a faint murmur of voices. A sliver of hope rekindled within the group as they followed the sound, moving stealthily through the shadows.

They emerged into a large cavern bathed in a soft, eerie glow emanating from a crack in the ceiling. The cavern teemed with bandits, their raucous laughter and jeers filling the air. The travellers concealed themselves behind stalagmites, their gazes scanning the crowd for any sign of the bandit leader.

As they watched, a hulking figure stepped forward, his voice booming above the others. It was not the bandit leader they sought, but rather one of his lieutenants.

With renewed determination, they regrouped, devising a plan to confront the lieutenant and extract information about the bandit leader's whereabouts. They knew that unravelling the lieutenant's defences would lead them one step closer to their ultimate goal — finding the elusive bandit leader and smashing his head in.

Futher analysing Wee Wee actions, they huffed and recoiled back sadistic bandit the bandit committing unspeakable acts of cruelty against defenceless children.

Their bodys spasming and convulsing on his every actions dried tears and lifeless eyes rolling at his every movement.

"Hmm just like that!" Wee Wee moaned.

"I feel like vomiting..." Mordecai murmured, his hands attempting to cover his mouth. The foul stench and whimpers had drained any semblance of what he saw. Mixed with a wretched musk, flesh and flesh it was too much for the vault hunter.

"Same..." Lilith gagged.

"Damn.." Roland murmured, he had attempted to steel himself but even then it wasn't enough.

Brick though, remained quiet, his arms tensing with ferocity. Breathing heavily his heart started to pump quicker, his eyes slowly turning red. The sight ignited a fire within his soul a sense of heroism shining brightly. The Bandit was going to die and he was going to die slowly. That was a promise.

With their expressions hardened, their weapons gripped tightly, as they stepped forward to confront the sadistic lieutenant.

Brick's massive frame loomed over Wee Wee, his muscles tensed with an undeniable fury. "You sick son of a bitch," he bellowed, his voice trembling with raw anger, "You think you can get away with this?"

"I'm gonna tear you apart, piece by piece. And I'm gonna like it," Brick roared charging towards the deranged man, his men surrounding him.

"You sand munchers think you can stop me?" he spat, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. "I'm fucking Wee Wee! I'm... gonna choke and stroke your lifeless body!"

The Vault Hunters squared off against Wee Wee and his horde of loyal minions pressed forward. Wee Wee's maniacal laughter filled the air, echoing through the desolate canyon where the battle was about to unfold.

With a wave of his hand, Wee Wee unleashed his bloodthirsty gang, a motley crew of deranged bandits armed with rifles and crude weapons. Their twisted smiles mocked the crew.

"It's time for the meat puppet!"

"It's time for THREE pounds of flesh!"

"Be my garden! My gestational soils!"

Brick, the hulking powerhouse of the group, charged forward with a mighty roar, his fists clenched and ready for action. His muscles rippled with every step as he ploughed through the swarm of bandits, delivering bone-crushing blows that sent them flying in all directions. Mordecai, perched on a nearby ledge, expertly unleashed a barrage of deadly accurate shots with his sniper rifle, picking off enemies with precision and grace.

Lilith, the fiery siren, tapped into her otherworldly powers, creating flickering orbs of energy that danced around her. With a swift motion of her hand, she sent the orbs hurtling towards the bandits, engulfing them in flames and causing panic in their ranks. Roland, the seasoned leader, took a strategic position, barking out orders and providing cover fire with his assault rifle, mowing down anyone foolish enough to challenge him.

The battle raged on, a symphony of gunfire, explosions, and screams. Wee Wee, unfazed by the chaos around him, revelled in the violence, darting through the fray with unhinged ferocity.

His minions fought with a desperate fervour, driven by their twisted loyalty to their deranged lieutenant. But the Vault Hunters, fueled by their shared determination and thirst for justice, pressed on with relentless resolve.

The clash of weapons and the crackling of elemental powers filled the air, as the Vault Hunters methodically cut down their adversaries. Wee Wee's laughter turned into frustrated snarls as his forces began to crumble under the onslaught. The bandit leader's desperate attempts to rally his minions fell on deaf ears, as fear and doubt crept into their once-mad eyes.

Finally, in a climactic moment, the Vault Hunters cornered Wee Wee, the embodiment of madness, in a circle of fire and smoke. There was no escape for him now. Wee Wee's manic laughter turned into a chilling howl of rage and despair as the Vault Hunters closed in. With a final act of defiance, he lunged forward, blades flashing, but the combined might and skill of the Vault Hunters proved too much.

In a flurry of coordinated strikes and elemental powers, Wee Wee was brought to his knees. His once-maniacal gaze now held a flicker of fear and realization as the Vault Hunters stood over him, victorious. But even still he continued to smile, a slight snicker at their menacing gazes.

Roland, the stoic leader, stepped forward, his gaze locked on Wee Wee. "Where is Steve?" he demanded his voice firm and commanding. "Tell us, or you'll suffer a fate far worse than death." Lilith staunched, "Ever felt your eyes melting fucker?"

Wee Wee hearing their threats curled his lips into a wicked grin, revealing bloodstained teeth. "You think I'll talk? You're all dead!" he spat, his voice filled with contempt. "Steve will make you pay for what you've done here. He's got plans, big plans, and you won't be able to stop him."

Brick, known for his explosive temper, growled impatiently. "Enough talk!" he roared, his massive fists clenching and unclenching. "I'll make you talk!"

Before anyone could react, Brick's rage got the better of him. In a split second, he unleashed a devastating punch, his fist colliding with Wee Wee's face. The impact was bone-crushing, and Wee Wee's head snapped back with a sickening crack. He slumped to the ground, lifeless.

The Vault Hunters stared in shock at what had just transpired. The realization of the unintended consequence settled upon them, a heavy weight of regret. Roland sighed deeply, his disappointment evident. "We needed him alive," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration.

"I'm sorry..." Brick murmured frustrated. "it's just, how could he?"

Staring at the corpse he realised that he had dealt his justice too soon. The bastard didn't deserve a quick ending.

Roland calming him merely shook his head, "We can't change what has happened now."

"Let's just have a look around and see what we can find."

Determined to salvage the situation, they began to search Wee Wee's base for any clues that might lead them to Steve, the notorious bandit leader. Their footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridors as they combed through the debris and discarded belongings. The stench of decay and desperation hung in the air, a haunting reminder of the atrocities committed within these walls.

Among the chaos and wreckage, they discovered a hidden room, tucked away behind a false wall. Inside, they found a crude recording device, its red light blinking ominously. Lilith, with her keen eye for detail, carefully extracted the recording and played it back.

"Steve, you're a force to be reckoned with. Your reputation as a merciless and sadistic bandit leader precedes you. And we at the Atlas Corporation see potential in your ruthlessness."

"Heh, I don't need your praise, Atlas. I do what I do because it brings me joy. Heyoooo!"

"Indeed, Steve. Your menacing nature aligns with our interests. We want chaos, fear, and confusion. We need someone like you to drive citizens away from certain locations and keep them on edge. We need you to join us."

"Fine by me. As long as you keep the rewards coming, I'll keep causing mayhem. Money, weapons, whatever I want. Just remember, I'm the one calling the shots. Don't try me. Heyooo!"

"We understand, Steve. We won't interfere with your sadistic pursuits. We'll continue to support you, but remember, loyalty is a two-way street. We'll send you the credits now alongside a cache of stolen weapons. Remember no one knows that we're helping you. You do your best to keep your mouth shut and we'll keep you happy. Is that a deal?"

"Haha - Fine by me. Heeeyoooooo!"

"Brilliant..."

After listening to the incriminating recording, silence enveloped the vault hunters. The weight of the truth they had uncovered was heavy on their shoulders, but it was Roland and Mordecai who broke the silence with scepticism about informing Alexander, the very person who had sent them on this mission.

Roland folded his arms, his brows furrowed in deep thought. "Alexander sent us here, knowing the risks involved," he said, his voice tinged with scepticism. "What if he's part of this too? What if he knew about the alliance between Steve and Atlas all along?"

Mordecai nodded in agreement, his eyes narrowed. "It's possible. He might have his own agenda, using us as pawns in his game," he suggested, his voice laced with suspicion. "We can't afford to trust anyone blindly, especially not someone who put us in this situation. Even I'm starting to doubt that voice..."

Lilith's expression tightened, torn between her desire to do what was right and the seed of doubt that Roland and Mordecai had planted. "If we approach Alexander without concrete evidence, we risk exposing ourselves and jeopardizing our chances of bringing down Steve and Atlas," she voiced her concerns cautiously.

Brick, however, remained steadfast in his belief in justice. "We can't let our doubts cloud our judgment," he insisted, his voice resolute. "If there's even a chance that Alexander is unaware of the situation, he deserves to know."

The group fell into contemplation once more, the weight of their decision heavy in the air. They understood the risks involved in trusting Alexander, but they also knew that keeping him in the dark might hinder their mission and put innocent lives at further risk. While they were all selfish they knew that something had to be done right.

After a moment of silence, Roland spoke up, his voice steady but filled with caution. "Let's approach Alexander with caution," he suggested. "We'll gather more evidence, discreetly investigate his involvement, and only then reveal what we've discovered."

Mordecai nodded, finding a compromise. "Agreed. We can't ignore the possibility that Alexander might be part of this, but we also can't ignore the possibility that he's genuinely unaware," he acknowledged, his voice reflecting a mix of scepticism and hope.

With their decision made, the vault hunters prepared to proceed with caution. They would tread carefully, gathering more evidence to confirm the extent of Alexander's involvement, all while keeping a close eye on his actions and motives.

Travelling back to Fystertone they made a few stops and caught sight of the wanted poster displaying Xander's name - an exorbitant bounty attached to it, a mixture of intrigue and surprise washing over them. Noticing the similarities with Alexander they knew that the two were but the same.

Each hunter had their own unique background and a set of crimes attributed to their name, but none could match the staggering amount placed on Xander's head.

Lilith, in particular, had lived a life on the edge, embracing the chaotic nature of the wastelands. Her rap sheet was filled with acts of theft, subversion, and even some unsanctioned uses of her formidable powers. She was no stranger to danger and the thrill of pushing boundaries.

The others, however, had taken different paths. Mordecai was a sharpshooter with a bounty mainly tied to having incredible marksmanship and owning an endangered bird. Brick, known for his raw strength and close-quarters combat skills, had a reputation for being a formidable enforcer. And Roland, a former soldier turned renegade, had his record tainted with acts of rebellion against an oppressive corporate officer.

While they were no strangers to the criminal underworld, the sheer magnitude of Xander's bounty astounded them. It was a testament to the severity of his crimes and the perceived threat he posed to the Atlas Corporation.

Rather than being scared or intimidated, the vault hunters saw the situation as an opportunity to delve into the complexities of Xander's character. They were curious about the path he had taken to warrant such a significant bounty.

As they continued their journey towards Fyrestone, the hunters couldn't help but wonder how their encounters with Alexander would unfold. The town held the promise of answers and potential alliances, but it also presented a volatile landscape where trust was a rare commodity.

The thought of standing face-to-face with someone whose crimes surpassed their own was both unnerving and exhilarating. It heightened their senses and sharpened their focus, reminding them of the dangers that awaited in the shadows. The hunt for truth and purpose had taken an unexpected turn, as their own identities intertwined with the enigma that was Alexander.

With each step closer to Fyrestone, the vault hunters embraced the challenges that lay ahead. They were prepared to navigate the treacherous terrain, driven by a mix of curiosity, ambition, and a relentless pursuit of the vault.