Chapter Text
The pub lighting flickered as heavy footfalls trailed across audible floorboards that protested against the weight of the new guest. Several lighter footsteps scurried on as well, and soon the already barely occupied pub was emptied of friendly-ish faces. The pub itself was a run-down, rinky-dink, hollin-in-the-wall kind of place. With a mostly all-wood interior, the floors were unpolished and creaky, and all the tables and chairs were made of similar unpolished and unsanded wood, almost splintering in the dim light that coated the room in a sheen of musky yellow. There was only one poorly made chandelier in the middle of the room that lit up the dining area.
Fortunately, Reinier was sitting at the bar. The half-decaying and faded red pleather cushions of the bar stools were atrocious and something Reinier was all too accustomed to. The stools themselves has no backs but had four curved wooden legs that were polished and chipping. The bar counter was polished, enough to see her own reflection in, as if the whiskey she was pouring herself over wasn't giving her enough of a look at her miserable reflection. Long red locks cascaded over her shoulders and draped over the sides of her face, as well as her forehead and bi-colored eyes, covering the shame that welled up in them and hiding her from the world she no longer loved. This cursed planet had broken her down so many times, this was the last of it, she had finally given up.
The heavy boot steps continue to inch forward, creaking the boards with every careful step. It didn't take long for the barrel of a gun to be pressed into the back of her head, forcing her to lean forward more as she craned her head downward, her bangs dipping into the golden liquid she had been drinking. "Good afternoon, Brick." She paused and pushed her bangs out of her face, forcing the gun back as she lifted her head, the barrel digging into her scalp as she looked over her shoulder. There were a few familiar faces with him, old friends turned bounty hunters. "Boys." Reinier's voice didn't waver. She simply looked back at her whisky and ignored the gun at the base of her skull. Wrapping bruised, delicate, fingers around the glass she lifted it and swirled it around. "What brings you to this corner of Pandora?" She asked before bringing the cool brim of crystal to her lips to drink down the amber-colored fluid.
"You know damn well what we're here for." Brick spoke sternly, his harsh voice a stark contrast to the relaxed atmosphere of the pub. Even the record player started skipping out of fear. But not Reinier. She couldn't care less that she was a trigger away from death. All he had to do was flex his finger and she'd be toast. After all, she wasn't wearing armor, she wasn't armed, and she had, as mentioned before, given up.
Reinier smirked softly, swallowing the swill that coated her tongue in a thick flavor of cinnamon and burned her throat as it went down. "Don't tell me you came all this way for little ole me?" They did of course. She had a large bounty over her head for everything she's ever done. For all the things she's accomplished and destroyed. For all the people she's helped and killed. The bounty was galaxy-wide, but anyone with a brain knew she wouldn't leave Pandora. She couldn't. It was home now.
Brick sneered and shoved the barrel against her skull again, causing her to wince as it bit into her flesh and tore at her hair. Her dink, still in hand, spilled on the countertop some, and she heaved a heavy sigh. "We're here," He pulled the gun away from her skull and slowly maneuvered to sit on the stool next to her, "To understand."
That was not what she was expecting. But all the same, it earned a chortle and a snort of amusement from the woman. "A story eh? I can do that." She nodded and put the glass to her lips once more before taking a deep breath and tilting her head back to drink the rest of the whisky before she slammed the cup down on the counter and let out a loud sigh. "Where to start...?" She trailed off, her eyes trailed up the wall to the peeling ceiling.
"From the beginning." Brick chimed in, and the two men to her left nodded, now also sitting on bar stools near her. "Start," Brick sat his heavy gun on the counter and waved the cowering bartender over to pour him a drink as well, "From the beginning. We need to understand." With a nod the redhead let her eyelids flutter closed. She wasn't sure what the beginning was. Where do you start a story like this? She supposed she should start it the only way that felt natural.
Reinier shrugged some and tapped her fingers rhythmically on the counter as she weighed her words carefully. This needed to explain everything after all. It might even save her hide if she was lucky. "Well, to start, I didn't always live on Pandora." She began and the memories started to flood back. The sounds, the sights, the smells. The most prominent smell? Coffee.
Light footsteps trailed through the halls. Click, click, click. I nodded to the guard standing next to the door, and he pressed the button to open it up. A metallic hiss seeped into the air and soon the large door was sliding open. "No no, please. Keep me waiting, I just love to wait. Like watching paint dry." The dagger-like tongue hurled sarcasm through the phone as Jack spoke. Handsome Jack, he was a busy man and one with very little patience. Jack himself sat on his throne, with the back facing me as he was facing the massive bay window that overlooked Pandora. I had learned the hard way not to bother him while he was on the phone. As I approached I listened in on his velvety voice, and as soon as I arrived at his desk I took the coffee cup off the tray I was holding and sat it down.
This was my job, the job I had before everything went upside down. The job I put on a pedestal. I was an office worker first and foremost, but above that, I was also the coffee girl of Handsome Jack. I brought him food and coffee every day, bringing him fresh coffee every other hour, and bringing him food at lunchtime. Only the best for the King of Hyperion. Of course, he wasn't really the king, but he was pretty damn close. I stood, carefully holding the tray of coffee cups as I waited to be noticed. The other cups of coffee weren't on there because I had to go get other people's coffee, it's because I wanted to. I simply got coffee for my friends in the office as well. I was also the first and only coffee girl Handsome Jack ever had. Why? No one really knows why, but I suspected it was because I interned as an office worker when I was younger, and he was the one who showed me around the office. He had treated me so well back then, like a big brother. And now, he was in charge of everything.
Jack turned slightly in his chair and raised a hand to wave me off as he noticed me standing there, his fingers slipping around the handle so he could raise it and sip on it. I turned and headed back to the door, a little upset we wouldn't be having our daily morning chit-chat on how things were going and what his next crazy idea was. It was uncommon that we wouldn't chat before I headed off to go work, but it wasn't like I was obligated to talk to Jack either. I had other matters to attend to anyway, and I was already off schedule anyway, which I was thankful for Jack not noticing. As I headed for the door, the door in question wooshed open with another hiss. Before it was fully open a figure ran through the door, running directly into me.
The tray I had been holding so carefully, had been knocked backward into my chest and face, sending blistering hot coffee flying onto me. Instinctively I let out a blood-curdling scream that was cut short as I bit down into my bottom lip to silence myself, not wanting to be reprimanded by Jack for interrupting his phone call. I had fallen from the force of the person who ran into me and was now on my ass on the ground, covered in coffee that was burning my flesh, soaking my white button-up shirt and nearly blinding my left eye as I squeezed it shut to avoid any coffee getting into it. With my one good eye, I looked up to see who had run into me. "Are you okay?" A hushed Wallethead spoke with open trembling hands, he was slightly crouched and terrified at the realization he just hurt me.
"Get your ass out." The thick and angry hiss of Jack's voice hit our ears and I squirmed, painfully trying to clamber to my feet. "Not you," Jack started, it was then I realized he had not only hung up his phone call but had walked over with wide, quick strides and soon he was pointing his finger. "Him." He stated angrily and grabbed the shirt collar of Wallethead and shoved him backward, making him stumble out of the doorway and he raised his voice further. "Get your ass out of my office and get something to clean up this mess!" With that, the door closed with another metallic shhhhk.
I sobbed, pain wrinkling my face and wracking my quivering body as I clutched my left arm. Jack sighed heavily and crouched down to examine me, and as my one good eye met his eyes he spoke. "Shit... Don't sue me alright?" He asked and snaked his arms underneath my body and behind my back, pulling me into his arms as he stood up one more, my right side pressed to his abdomen as he carried me to his desk. Jack was careful to set me down on his throne before he pressed a button on his phone. "Janet, call for a doctor and tell them if they aren't here in ten minutes their asses will be spaced!" The man shouted into the speaker before clicking it off and whipping open a desk drawer. He fished through it a moment before pulling out a few things. He pulled out a health vial and popped the cork, handing it over in one swift motion. "Drink this."
As I gulped it down he grabbed a folded sweater out of the drawer next and sat it down on the desk before he looked at him with a stern, almost disappointed look. I sniffled and reached a shaky hand up to wipe at my good eye. The health potion made the stinging and burning go away, but I was still wet. I pulled the fabric off my body, dead skin coming with it as I pulled at my shirt. I whimpered and started to cry again as I looked down at my hands that clutched my shirt. "Hey, hey... hey," Jack spoke first harshly, then softer as he knelt down in front of me. "Deep breaths kiddo. It's going to be alright." He stated and snickered a little. "Though, your face could look better." He smirked, thinking it to be a funny joke. I didn't think it was funny however, and reached up to the left side of my face, feeling the wrinkled skin and the slight twinge of pain as I touched the now scarring area of flesh. I looked at him shocked and in emotional turmoil and he placed a hand on my head. "Change your shirt kid, I won't look. Promise." He stated and stood, heading over to the mess on the floor, his back to me as I got up off the chair.
Slowly with numb fingers and the occasional sniffle, I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off. Dropping it to the floor I pulled on the Hyperion yellow sweater that had one off-colored stripe over the chest. I picked up my soaked shirt and balled it up before throwing it into the trash, then I started to hold myself. "Th-thank you..." I spoke in a quivering voice and sniffled once more. Trying to pull myself together.
"Yeah, yeah, don't mention it. Seriously. I have a reputation to uphold you know?" He stated and turned back to me as he strode over. "Yellow looks good on you." He stated simply and gave a thumbs up. As he reached the desk again the door whisked open and in rushed Wallethead who was now mopping up the mess, and behind him, a whole slew of medical professionals who were in a rush of their own. Being spaced isn't fun after all. It took about an hour, but Jack made sure I was taken care of, as soon as I was cleared by the doctors they left. The scars were here to stay, unfortunately. But otherwise, I had my vision and my life. Even better, I still had my job. "Alright kid, get back to work. I expect fresh coffee on my desk in an hour, and lunch at noon sharp. I'm thinking... something exotic today. A stalker maybe? Yeah, that sounds good. Bring me stalker curry." He stated and waved me off.
I scurried out of the office and back to work, taking a mental note as to what he wanted for lunch, though, where in the world id find someone to sell a stalker let alone someone to make stalker curry, was beyond me. But, I had to do it. After all, what the king says, goes.
Brick took a long sip of his drink as Reinier stopped speaking and after swallowing the beverage he shook his head. "I don't buy it. Handsome Jack was a monster, a terrible human, and a pathetic waste of air. So why would he be nice to you?"
Reinier shrugged. "Whether you believe me or not is not my concern. I'm just telling you how it was." She stated and pulled at the faded, grungy, yellow collar to her sweater. "But if you want proof. Here it is. Course, I needed to patch it up a long time ago." She stated gesturing to the singular pink arm, ironically it was the left arm. It was sewn together at the shoulder and seemed to nearly fit with the sweater, although, it was pink and not yellow.
"You could've gotten that sweater anywhere. How would I know it's from him?" Brick asked with a snarky tone, his nose wrinkled up and the woman shrugged once more.
Her head lulled to the side so she could look at him from beneath her over grown bangs. "Like I said, I don't care if you believe me." She smirked and sighed. "Look Brick, as much as I'd love to keep talking. It's late. Are you going to kill me or what?"
Brick snorted a laugh. "Oh no. You're not getting out of your crimes that easily. We're here to take you back." He stated and rose to his feet, wrapping large fingers around the muscular arm of the woman. "Get your ass up. You can sleep in the car." He snarled and yanked the woman to her feet, she stumbled and drunkenly waddled after him as he led her outside to the awaiting car. He practically threw her into the back of the bandit truck before clapping a handcuff around her wrist and then to the rail on the side of the trunk area. With that, the boys climbed in the back and Brick climbed in the driver's seat. And Reinier simply watched the sky as she started to doze, the stars dotting the darkening sky were easy to help her reminisce on better days. It didn't take long for the fugitive to drift into a drunken slumber for the night.