Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A/N: Hello, readers! I’ve had this story on my mind (and writing it down in several notebooks) for a long time. Freya and Ceres are my OCs; everything and everyone else belongs to 2K and Gearbox, unless otherwise specified. Naturally, there will be some artistic liberties and not everything will be canon. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Enjoy!

Down the Rabbit Hole

Jack glowered at his monitor as he wrote the last bit of code to the New U stations on Pandora. The plan was to have the stations strategically placed all over the hostile planet so that customers could enjoy exploring without confronting their mortality, but at a price. A small drop of blood could allow a person to be cloned with the original’s memories and skills. Jack convinced the board members of Hyperion that the stations would drive profits up almost exponentially. His goal to tame Pandora was on its way to fruition.
There was one problem: Harold Tassiter. The CEO argued that funding was a huge problem as well as against the necessity of using Jack’s technology to observe and collect data on Pandora.

“Sure, John’s coding is somewhat better than most,” Tassiter claimed in a board meeting that Jack was somehow invited to, “but I doubt that it’s better than his supervisor’s. I’ve received reports that John comes to work early and leaves when everyone else is gone. How do we know he isn’t stealing someone else’s work?”

The words from that particular meeting echoed through the programmer’s head. Jack jabbed a key in frustration. The raven-haired man was so caught up in his angry musings, he didn’t realize that a second monitor crackled to life. A young woman with glacier blue eyes and long black hair appeared on the screen.

“Now’s not a good time, Angel,” Jack dismissed. “I’m really not in the best of moods.”

“I have information for you,” Angel insisted gently, “It’s about the Phoenix Project.”

Jack froze and glanced at Angel’s monitor. He saved his work and turned so that he could face his assistant. Angel summarized and relayed the information Jack wanted; it was more than he expected. Atlas was planning something big. Some of the scientists in a more clandestine part of Atlas were trying to figure out how to either create Sirens or, more ambitiously, bring them over from alternate realities. Sirens were extraordinarily unique and powerful women who could control elements and manipulate dimensions existed in Jack’s reality. Now, he learned that they existed in other dimensions that were not as advanced as his, and one of those realities had a Siren; or at least, had the DNA markers associated with Sirens.

“It looks like Atlas already found a candidate,” Jack mused, scanning through the confidential documents Angel submitted to him. “She’s from Earth? That planet’s been uninhabitable for centuries!”

“Remember, she’s from a different reality,” Angel replied. “Check the date.”

“Holy shit, she’s from 2010.”

Jack continued to scroll through the documents and frowned in confusion at the reports’ scientific jargon. He stifled a yawn and rubbed tiredly at his face as he questioned the validity of the candidate’s DNA markers.

“Although she has the right Siren markers, there is no indication that her abilities have manifested,” Angel informed Jack neutrally. “Earth’s conditions are hindering her development as a Siren, and have hindered previous Sirens as well. There is little likelihood that she will manifest her abilities even if we bring her to our reality.”

“And what if we were to help her along with developing her abilities?” Jack quizzed Angel. “Just imagine what we could gain if we brought her to this dimension. We’d have the first ever interdimensional Siren!”

“Interdimensional travel has never really been tested,” Angel replied cautiously. “It’s not even in the infant stages of research. If it was possible, bringing her here would be tricky enough. Even if it was successful, the journey alone could kill her. I’m assuming that that is the opposite of our goal.”

Jack thought for a moment. His assistant was right about the potential danger of interdimensional travel. The chances of the woman surviving were slim to none, so he’d have to get creative. Jack dismissed Angel with a brief nod and ‘thank you’, and he began to piece a plan together.

Two years later, Jack sauntered into the lab with a triumphant grin. Everything he did, all of the resources he kissed ass for, and the countless hours he’d spent perfecting his New-U stations had culminated into his imminent success with the Phoenix Project. It was perfect timing, too. A group of four mercenaries, nicknamed Vault Hunters, found a way to the Vault of the Destroyer. He paid a turncoat Atlas soldier handsomely to plant a device (that was copied and perfected from those idiots at Atlas) in the Eridian ruins leading to the Vault, and only needed to wait for the right moment to open the doorway from his reality into another. Unfortunately, it was in enemy territory due to the heavy presence of the Crimson Lance; the military unit being a subdivision of Atlas, Hyperion’s number one competitor. There was no way he or any of his more qualified associates could be present when the subject appeared. Jack sat back and enjoyed the show, briefly wishing for a good bag of pretzels or popcorn. He watched as the four Vault Hunters laid waste to the Crimson Lance’s forward camp. It gave Jack a sick sense of pleasure to watch the Vault Hunters destroy the faction. As the mercenaries approached the Destroyer’s gate, Atlas’s resident Siren, Commandant Steele, stood in their way and began to make a “riveting” speech about Atlas’s superiority.

“Oh please,” Jack scoffed through a mouthful of pretzels. “Atlas superiority my right ass cheek.”

Jack leaned forward in interest as the portal behind Steele whirred to life. A giant purple tentacle snaked out of the portal and pierced Steele through her solar plexus. Jack winced in a moment of sympathy as the snow-haired Siren began to scream and writhe in pain. The Destroyer shoved through the portal and focused its attention on the other four intruders. As the Vault Hunters were focused on slaying the monster, Jack slammed an open palm onto the console’s sole red button. A gateway, conveniently placed in the devastated Atlas camp, whirred to life. At first, the low-level programmer wasn’t sure if it was working. Then, the gate flashed a bright blue and whirred faster. A body skidded out of the gate and stopped a short distance away from the portal. Dust and snow swirled around the body. As the debris slowly settled, Jack could barely make out the figure’s shape. He was relieved that it was a woman, but had no idea if it was the “right” woman.

“Come on,” he murmured, willing his target of interest to be in the dust. “Come on, come on, let me see you.”

Almost as if the universe heard Jack’s pleas, the dust cleared. A woman in her early twenties was laying prone on the dirt covered floors. Despite the dirt covering the woman from head to toe, it was easy to tell that she had somewhat modern clothing on: dark-washed jeans clung to her long legs and appeared to be soaked, an equally soaked nondescript black t-shirt stuck to her slight torso under a torn rain jacket, and simple black sneakers clad her feet. A black rucksack was wrapped tightly around her wrist. Jack experienced a moment of panic when the woman showed no signs of waking up.

Much to the programmer’s dismay, the young woman was injured. One of her legs stuck out at a strange angle and she didn’t appear to be breathing. Jack curled his fingers into a fist and banged on the table in front of him. He let loose a string of curses but stopped promptly when the hidden camera refocused as the Vault Hunters approached the young woman.
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Freya (a few minutes earlier to present)

Rumor has it that when someone has a near-death experience, his or her life flashes before their eyes. Sometimes rumors are just that: rumors. For me, at least, the rumor didn’t come true. Far from that. My experience was violent and painful. And it started on a rainy day (I know, what a cliché). I’m not talking about a little drizzle and some humidity. I’m talking torrential downpours and not much visibility. At the time of this lovely rainstorm, there was also thunder and lightning. I was stupid enough to think that I could make the short walk from the mall to my car safely. At most, it was about fifty yards.

Nope. Apparently, it wasn’t in the cards. My luck turned, for better or worse; the jury’s still out on if it was for better or worse. All I know is that as I made my way to my car, some moron in a noisy sportscar decided it would be a brilliant idea to speed down the very row my car was parked in. I had my hood up (not a smart choice, I know) and didn’t see the car until it was too late. It crashed into me, the force throwing me up into the air and onto the concrete. Immediately, I knew that I had broken ribs as I struggled to breathe. I coughed and tasted the metallic tang of copper. One of my legs was broken, possibly shattered. I had trouble seeing; my eyes were going in and out of focus. My ears popped as the pressure changed. Normally, it wouldn’t have mattered but it hurt like a mother trucker. I gasped in pain as my head began to pound. A light appeared a few feet away from me and began to swirl lazily. I briefly wondered if it was a gateway to the Afterlife. A force emanating from the portal tugged at me gently, getting stronger as my mangled body continued to resist. I felt my body lift and slowly get sucked into the pretty blue portal. Unable to speak, I prayed.

Please, someone help me, I mentally pleaded. I really don’t want to die just yet.

No one answered. That’s what it seemed, anyway.

When I regained consciousness, I was lying on my stomach in dirt. Dry, cool air caressed my cheek. It would have been soothing if I wasn’t soaked and cold. I coughed as I drew a shallow breath and tasted copper once more. Prying my eyes open was nearly impossible; they were probably encrusted with salt and dirt. Bright light bounced off something—was that snow?

A pained moan escaped my lips as my head began to pound once more. In the bright light, I saw four figures standing a short distance away and they were pointing various weapons at me. As I struggled to get my breathing under control, one of the figures approached me cautiously. Pain and panic made my heart pound a tattoo against my sternum. I couldn’t move any of my limbs and I thought for sure that the figures were going to kill me. The silhouette became more visible and defined. A dark-skinned man with chiseled features approached with a drawn weapon. He took in my rough appearance with a critical eye; his brown eyes roved over me and assessed my injuries.

“Easy now,” he soothed as my breaths came quicker. I mentally growled a curse when my body refused to move. He put away his weapon (I don’t know where) and held out his hands for me to see, giving me a nonverbal signal that he was no longer hostile. Then, the man began to tend to my wounds….by jabbing me with a needle and injecting me with a mysterious red substance. I yelped more in surprise than pain and shot him an incredulous look. “What, you’ve never seen a health needle before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” I croaked tersely, wincing as the man poked at my broken leg. My “savior” reset my leg, eliciting a pained yelp and groan from me. I fought to breathe deeply, and growled an expletive. “I’m more of the old-fashioned bandage and stitches type of girl.”

The man huffed a chuckle and gestured for his friends to approach. I fought to keep from panicking as I took in the group’s appearance. They all looked imposing. Goosebumps crawled up my spine as my eyes locked with the sole female of the group. She felt as dangerous as she looked. Molten gold eyes, reminiscent of a lioness or a hawk, openly assessed my disheveled appearance. Short fiery red hair swept over her eyes as another dry, cool breeze passed. Her figure would have made women mad with envy and men madder with lust; she was toned yet curved in all the right places. Cyan blue tattoos swirled in what looked to be a tribal design across her chest and down her entire left side. It was most prominent on her left arm. Something in the back of my mind whispered that it was an ancient language. For the time being, I ignored that voice and continued my silent assessment.

The next person to catch my eye was a man with dreadlocks. He easily topped my almost six foot frame, and was as wiry as the behemoth behind him was muscular. A vulture-like bird of prey perched on his left shoulder, glaring at me with oily black eyes. Behind the wiry man was someone who would have given a certain muscle-bound green giant with a penchant for destruction a run for his money. He looked as though he could, and would, take out one of America’s best superheroes with a well-placed right hook and laugh about it.

Where the hell am I? I wondered incredulously. A loud crack broke my concentration and I swiveled my gaze to what looked like a gateway behind me. A window into my currently rainy world. It crackled and fizzled until it became blank. Then, it crumbled to the ground.

“Well, crap, that…sucks,” I muttered darkly. The golden-eyed woman snorted in amusement at my sarcasm. I glanced at the man who had tended my wounds. “Who are you guys? Where am I?”

“We don’t have time to babysit,” Mr. Dreadlocks told the group rather snidely. The crimson-haired woman raised an eyebrow and silently returned her gaze back to me. I felt it like a lead weight. "Let's just give her a junk weapon and shield, and leave her alone."

“Let’s get out of here first and then we’ll decide where to go from there,” the dark-skinned man offered. He held out a calloused hand towards me. “The name’s Roland. Behind me are my…friends, Lilith,” the woman gave me a casual two finger salute, “Mordecai and Bloodwing,” Mr. Dreadlocks raised his head from checking his pistol to look at me (not that I could tell because he was wearing goggles), “and Brick is the big guy.”

The wall of muscle cracked his knuckles and neck in greeting. I briefly wondered if they were all trying intimidate or impress me; within seconds, the first option was more likely. Roland looked at me expectantly until I cautiously gripped his hand with mine.

“I’m Freya,” I replied politely, trying to swallow the fear and panic that threatened to rear its ugly head. “Nice to meet you. And thanks for patching me up.”
Roland helped me onto my feet with a small smile and began leading the way down the mountain. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I caught a glimpse of crimson in the corner of my eye. From what I saw, it had an insectoid body. I felt it make eye contact with me despite my inability to discern where its head and face were.
Soon, child, an androgynous voice promised gently. It was almost as if it was speaking via telepathy. For right now, you must get to know your surroundings, your friends, and your enemies. We will speak again.

And just like that, the illusion dispelled and I could only see the ruins behind us. I followed the strange quartet out of the ruins and through the bloody path they undoubtedly carved. Armor-clad bodies littered the area as we trudged down the mountain. I felt terror course through me as I, once again, wondered just who the hell my would-be rescuers really were. Mordecai handed me a pistol with the word Atlas emblazoned on it with some ammo.

“You know how to shoot, right?” he asked condescendingly.

“Aim the explosive end away from me, right?” I countered with a saccharine smile (probably not the best idea, given that these guys were likely somewhat homicidal). Lilith rolled her eyes and snorted while Roland put his fist to his mouth to cough (really, he was just trying to stifle a chuckle). Mordecai looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else at that moment. “Look, my ocular friend, I grew up somewhere completely different. Somewhere people can carry weapons but aren’t really encouraged to. It’s against the norm unless you live in the South. So, you might have to swallow that hubris of yours and teach me how to use the gun. Think of it as imparting wisdom to a moron that doesn’t know any better.”

Brick laughed at that and pounded the shorter man with an open hand. Mordecai grunted and gave me a short lesson on how to load and shoot a gun. His sentences were ground out and clipped. All the while, Lilith and Roland argued in hushed tones. The scowl on Lilith’s face indicated that Roland won whatever debate they were engaged in. My focus switched back to the wiry man’s instruction.

“So, yeah, aim the explosive end away from you,” the dreadlocked man agreed. Then he walked away and cursed in Spanish. “Come on, I want to get back to the Underdome. My lady is waiting for me and we’re wasting time.”

And so, we were on our way to...whatever this Underdome was. And, if Mordecai's "lady" was as violent as the ragtag group I was currently traveling with, then I had to buckle up buttercup and keep my tongue in check. I had no wish to dance with Death for a second time in one day. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. Ugh...

Chapter Text

The entrance to the Underdome was a nondescript bar in the middle of nowhere. It was composed of rusted and partially dilapidated boxcars and trailers. The door looked heavy-duty and a red light shone cheerily (or warningly, depending on how one looks at it) above the door. Armored men loitered around the building, and barely glanced at us as we approached. I jumped as Mordecai lazily shot one of them when they ventured too close. He scoffed at me and entered the building first, mumbling something about “jumpy tourists”. Brick was next, eagerly voicing his desire for a drink and some “grub”. The ginger and Roland lingered behind and spoke in low, argumentative tones.

“This is still a bad idea,” the fiery redhead groused aloud. “How do you know this will work?”

Roland shot Lilith a warning look and gestured for me to enter the bar. I opened the door and was immediately greeted by a welcome whoosh of warm air. The bar was dimly lit and smelled of blood and booze. I chose to keep my mouth shut and breathed shallowly through my nose.

This place is lively, I thought sardonically. I just love the décor. The dead bodies and blood on the walls add some…colorful charm to the place.

Shut up, you jerk. They’re putting you up when they could have just left you to die out there. They may be the weirdest and most violent people you’ve ever met, but they’re better than no one. Or meeting one of those cannibalistic psychos or bandits they were talking about. 

“Come on in from the dust and have a seat, sugar,” a sultry, feminine voice called from behind the bar. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the bartender. She was a beautiful brunette with sharp forest green eyes and a heavily made-up face. Her curves were only accentuated by the racy Mad Hatter outfit she had on. Her gaze settled on me, and I immediately felt transparent. She began to cluck like a mother hen and immediately approached us to get a better look. “Rough day, sugar? Come sit down and I’ll get you something to eat.” I obeyed cautiously and politely accepted her offer with a murmured thanks. Moxxi appraised me once more with a shrewd eye. “You’re welcome. Good manners are so hard to come by on this planet in general, let alone in these parts.”

After introductions were made and we had food given to us, Roland and Lilith took the pretty bartender aside for a private chat. The brunette kept eyeing me with keen interest, taking in my torn clothing and bruised face.

“Eat up, skinny,” Brick instructed, digging into his own meal. I raised a skeptical eyebrow at my food and took a tentative bite of my skag burger. It had the consistency and taste of an overcooked steak. I chewed slowly and winced as the meat slid down my parched throat. “Yeah, skag ain’t the same as chicken or anything like that, but it wouldn’t be cheap to import that shit to Pandora.”

I nodded in understanding. On our drive to the Red Light, Roland and Brick briefly explained what they could about the hostile planet to me. They explained that most of the flora and fauna were guaranteed to kill me if someone wasn’t strong or prepared enough. Roland warned that the people were hostile at best and downright homicidal (and psychotic) at the very worst; everyone else in between were in dire need of a decent shrink. They assured me that their contact, Mad Moxxi, was my best bet at surviving the hostile planet and its denizens. Roland told me that Moxxi was one of the most prominent citizens on Pandora and was feared by the saner population of Pandora. Before we got out of the car, Roland placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and pinned me with an equally heavy gaze.

“Follow our lead and keep your head down,” he’d directed me. “Let me and Lilith do the talking until we’re sure that Moxxi will take you in.”

A kick to my shin catapulted me out of my reverie and I glanced up at Mordecai, who lifted his chin in the direction of Moxxi, Roland, and Lilith. The bartender beckoned to me with a “come hither” stare and a slender pointer finger. I stood up slowly and approached the three people who were deciding my fate. The attractive bartender sent me a friendly smile while Lilith and Roland silently observed our interaction.

“Roland and Lilith tell me that you need a place to stay, sugar,” Moxxi informed me as she stood gracefully. I nodded in affirmation. “Well, let’s have another look at you.” The brunette circled around me like a hungry predator. Her green eyes trailed from my sneakers up to my face. “Mmhmm…definitely a looker. I need another bartender in my Underdome, but I don’t know if you’d be able to…accommodate my needs. It’s not exactly an easy job.” She seemed to have zero sense of personal space and reached out to cup my chin. Green eyes roved over my scratched face, and hummed approvingly. “My, my, sugar, you’re pretty under all that dirt. My question is if you’re willing to work for me.”

“I’m willing to work,” I assured, trying to mask my unease about living with and working for a stranger. I was told Moxxi was as bloodthirsty as she was kind, but she probably wouldn’t take me in if I showed how afraid and uncomfortable I was. Instead, I had to put all of that aside. As Moxxi continued to openly appraise me, I elaborated in a neutral, matter-of-fact tone, “I’m willing to wait on customers and clean, but I reserve the right to smack any patron that decides to grope me.”

Roland’s jaw slackened as Lilith snorted. Moxxi glanced at the pair before bursting into giggles.

“Oooh, feisty! I like that. Let’s hope that you stay that way,” she said, nibbling her lower lip in a way that would make any hotblooded man, or woman, flush. The brunette winked at me as she beckoned us to follow her. Moxxi led us through the entrance of the Underdome and escorted us through the winding tunnels. When we reached the common area, Moxxi dismissed the others and claimed that she desired to show me around personally. “First, I’ll show you to your new home.” We turned our first corner in the dizzying maze of tunnels under the Red Light Bar. “Decorate your apartment however you want, I couldn’t care less about how many holes you drill or nail in; all I ask is that it stays clean. You’ll get paid every other week. You have your own kitchen with a stovetop and fridge, so you’re responsible for your own food. I expect you to dress and look a certain way while you’re on the clock. I have a reputation to uphold and you’ll be acting as an extension of my business. Do you have any experience with customer service?”

“Only retail,” I answered automatically as we climbed the stairs to the living quarters. Then, I tried my hand at innuendo. “I’m flexible enough to learn more.”

She smiled in approval as she stopped at a green door with the number 87 emblazoned on it in chrome. She withdrew a set of keys from her generous bosom and unlocked the door. The brunette stepped aside and gestured for me to enter first. I cautiously entered the apartment and Moxxi turned on the light behind me. I heard her deposit a spare set of keys on the kitchen counter as I ventured farther into my new digs. It was small but cozy with mismatched and well-worn furniture. I wandered around the surprisingly clean apartment and listened to Moxxi as she explained the apartment’s features. Heat and hot water were free as long as I didn’t overuse it. Electricity came straight out of my paycheck as well as rent. I was also to be set up with an ECHO device, which sounded like a cell phone with the ability to also act like a backpack of sorts (a Swiss Army knife of this new world). Moxxi’s voice suddenly became distant drone as I contemplated my new life.

This place was getting stranger and stranger by the minute, and it was throwing me for a loop.  It was difficult for me to come to terms with being forcefully yanked from my home and thrown onto a whole different planet. I took a deep breath to drown my anxiety and fear. Like many people from Earth, I had a hard time accepting and adapting to drastic life changes. Despite knowing that change was necessary, it was still difficult for me to take in and accept my new surroundings. This new planet was going to force me to change faster than what I could handle, but I had to adapt to survive my new home. Talk about making lemonade from lemons.

“One more thing, sugar, and then I’ll let you get some rest,” Moxxi told me as she retreated to the apartment’s entrance. Her eyes raked over my disheveled appearance and waved a hand in my general direction. “You can’t be walking around my establishment dressed like that. I’m going to give you some of my old clothes to start you out with until we can go shopping. I’ll stop by later this evening to give them to you. You’ll start training tomorrow night.”

With that, Moxxi shot me an empathetic look and closed the door. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly when I was sure she was gone. My first order of business was to bathe and sleep before my new employer’s return. I scrubbed perfunctorily as the hot water beat against me. It should have been soothing but I couldn’t allow myself to enjoy it. Finally, I broke down. Hot tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my face. I choked out a sob as my world finally crumbled around me and the realization that I probably wouldn’t return home hit me like a freight truck. When I was sure that I was done crying, or more likely too tired to cry anymore, I turned off the water and dried myself off. After wiping the condensed water off the mirror, I was finally able to get a good look at myself.

 A heart-shaped face with high, prominent cheekbones greeted me first. Familiar heterochromatic eyes of blue and golden hazel stared back at me. Wavy raven black hair heavy with excess water fell over one shoulder just above my waist. My pale skin was mottled with dark purple bruises. Small, thin cuts peppered my face, with the most prominent one going through my left eyebrow. Then, I began looking at my more minor features. I had my mother’s petite upturned nose and bow-shaped lips, which I had no doubt contributed to me being hired on the spot by Moxxi. I had my father’s height (almost six feet) and a slender frame that probably solidified her decision, but that wasn’t as comforting as it should have been. In fact, it made me less happy about my situation. Looking in the mirror just made me miss my parents even more.

 Finished with my self-assessment, I silently dressed in a pair of comfortable pants and tank top that I conveniently found in one of the drawers and padded into my sparsely decorated new bedroom. Sleep barely claimed me as I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. By the time I felt exhausted enough to sleep, a soft knock sounded on my door. With a sigh, I swung myself out of the bed and dressed in my slightly damp clothing from the day before. I peeked through the peephole and found Moxxi waiting at my door as promised.

“Did you get any sleep?” she asked with concern. I shrugged nonchalantly and stepped aside to grant my new employer entrance. She all but dragged a large black trash bag full of clothing into the empty living room. “Well, I have clothes as promised plus some shoes I think will fit you. No promises on that, though. You likely have feet that are proportional to your height. Go ahead and pick what you want. Just keep in mind that I have more to give to you back at my place, which you’ll see at some other time. We can have a girls’ night and…get to know each other a bit better. That’ll come later though; I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you just yet.”

I obeyed and sifted through the various tops and bottoms in the bag. Most of it was racy and left little to the imagination, but I knew that it was probably just to garner attention and ensure return customers. Moxxi seemed to sense my discomfort and mentioned that I could doctor up some of the clothing to fit my sense of style, but I needed to show enough skin to blend in. I nodded in agreement and resumed sorting through the clothing. By the time I was finished, I had five tops and five bottoms that I felt comfortable with wearing. Then, something else in the bag caught my eye and I felt my inner Rennie squeal in delight. I withdrew a beautiful corset from the bag and smiled for the first time since coming to Pandora. It was an over bust corset made with leather (bull skag, Moxxi told me helpfully) and steel boning. The black leather was embroidered with white in a pretty floral design. Moxxi told me that the flowers were lava lilies and blade flowers. She also mentioned that it was stronger than plasti-steel (whatever that was) and was (for the most part) bulletproof.

“Go on and try it on with the rest of the clothes,” my new employer encouraged. I obeyed and tried on the corset with a cream-colored key-hole top that showed off my shoulders and a pair of tight bull skag leather leggings. When I ventured out of my bedroom to show Moxxi, she made a show of looking me up and down and fanned herself with her hand. “Oh, sugar, you are downright ravishing in that. I think I should lock you in a cage just so I can have you all to myself.”

“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of me working for you?” I joked, trying to mask my sudden bout of self-consciousness. Moxxi sashayed toward me and gently stroked my cheek.

“Not at all, but I see your point. I’ll be able to get more loyal customers with you manning the bar dressed like this. Don’t worry, sugar, you can smack anyone who gropes you. Just be sure to tell them off before getting physical. I have a couple of weapons you can keep on you. Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be working. This evening won’t be slow enough for me to train you, I’m afraid, so I’ll just give you a quick rundown. I’ll train you properly soon. I want to make sure you survive your first night.”

______________________________________________________________________________

The Pit was one of many bars with a view of the Underdome arena. Neon blue and green lights lit the bar and the mirrored shelves. A handful of cylindrical cages dangled from the ceiling with people dancing provocatively inside them. My heart thumped in time with the loud dubstep music that reverberated from the surrounding speakers. I barely heard Moxxi as she instructed me on how to process payments from customers. From what I could hear, all transactions were digital and only required the patron to confirm their order by speaking his or her name to me. All I had to do was fill the customers’ orders and keep them happy. Neither Moxxi nor I realized we had an eavesdropper in our midst. Scratch that, we had multiple eavesdroppers but one seemed to care more than the others.

“Excuse me but why is she starting out in The Pit?” demanded a beautiful woman with platinum blonde hair. Her icy blue eyes roved over me, searching for any weaknesses before settling back onto Moxxi. At the same time, some of the other employees paused their work to watch the unfolding drama. “Isn’t it one of your rules to start new bloods off in Tartarus? Just to make sure they have the nerve to be here. Just as an FYI, most don’t survive.”

“And may I ask why they don’t survive?” I asked. I could hear my mother’s voice telling me that I was too curious for my own good. I promptly ignored it, like any typical young woman barely out of adolescence. Love you, Mom.

“Customers will literally kill you for getting their order wrong,” the woman replied with a sadistic smile. “And I’d love to watch them hack you to pieces.”

A chorus of raucous laughter and jeers filled the bar as someone turned down the music. Moxxi and the vicious viper behind the bar glanced at me expectantly. On one hand, I was freaking out on the inside; complete with warning bells and red lights. All I could think was: this woman took batshit crazy to a whole other level. Yet I knew that if I showed any apprehension or fear, I’d be eaten alive (hopefully not in the literal sense with the way some of the other employees were eyeing me). This had to be a test, and I was determined to pass.

Ah, what the hell? I thought sarcastically. What’s life without a few risks? Right?

“What if I survive Tartarus?” I asked despite the warning bells in my head and the whoops of encouragement from our audience. The unfriendly woman grinned menacingly at me again.

“If you survive Tartarus for a full shift, then I’ll give you half my tips,” she replied, approaching me. She ran her tongue along her top teeth and gave me a once over. “When you don’t survive, I get all of your tips and you work Tartarus indefinitely. I'm Ceres, by the way. I figure you should know who's going to be collecting whatever pocket change you earn for the foreseeable future."

Well, that didn’t make sense and it certainly wasn't fair. Moxxi didn’t come to my rescue like I hoped she would. Instead, she looked me over, as though assessing if I could survive a full shift in Tartarus. She came to a decision rather quickly and assured the crowd of the more “reputable” customers that they would see plenty of bloodshed by the night’s end. My boss coolly led me to Tartarus, explaining what the other crazy woman meant (yes, you heard me, "other crazy woman. Moxxi isn't exactly the poster child for sanity in my book, but she's saner than Ceres).

There were these nifty things called New-U stations all over Pandora that would clone someone who died while exploring Pandora. The clone would have all of the memories of their predecessor. Money was directly withdrawn from their accounts to compensate some big wig corporation for the trouble. Because I worked for Moxxi (and she found a loop in the system), I would receive a decent discount. I would just need to provide a sample of my blood to receive the benefits. Despite the benefits, I politely declined giving my blood.

Tartarus was smaller compared to The Pit. Red and orange lights framed the mirror-backed bar. Braziers with light and billowing cloth gave the illusion of fire were placed in multiple areas of the bar. The bar was on ground level to the coliseum; there was a possibility that the bar could have some unidentified flying gladiators as guests. I filed the thought away for a quiet laugh later on. Customers crowded around us as Moxxi led me by the hand towards the bar. She leaned close to me, her mouth brushing my ear as she spoke.

“Survive the night, sugar,” she urged quietly. “I took a big risk, bringing you here. I hope you don’t disappoint me.” Her tone was so decisive and confident that I almost believed her. “Think of tonight as a taste of what working for me will be like. Have fun!”

No pressure, I thought as she sashayed away from the bar. Many pairs of eyes trailed after her and her rump. Then, like in any respectable horror movie, eyes and heads began to slowly swivel back toward me as their owners began to eagerly crowd the bar. It was just me, them, and a sturdy bar between us. What did I just get myself into? You know what? Never mind, I don't want to know.

Someone somewhere was laughing their cosmic badonkadonk off.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Look Ma! I made frenemies!

Six hours in Tartarus was like working Black Friday at the mall. If the mall had homicidal maniacs pointing guns and various other devices of murder at me while being served their orders. By the end of the fifth hour, I’d had enough of my patrons’ threats of making a “meat puppet” out of me. So, I did something you definitely shouldn’t do while in any kind of customer service job (seriously, don’t do this); I stopped serving and climbed on top of the bar.

“Listen up, bitches and hoes!” I hollered over the din of maniacal laughing and incoherent shouts. Then, it got quiet and all eyes landed on me. I suppose that happens when you call a collective group by such derogatory names. “I’m only going to say this once. You should save waving your weapons around and threats for the poor sods that actually believe you. I’m the only bartender here who has access to the good stuff. So, if you want your booze, and you want it quickly, get your asses in line, stop making threats, and wait your turn.”

“We can just kill you and take your creds anyway,” a voice yelled from the back. I spotted a young man with blond spiked blond hair. He looked like a post-apocalyptic Norse god, except for the part that he was thin, had piercings through his nose and ears, and barely had any facial hair. The patrons jeered in support of their fellow patron. He smirked, thinking that he frightened me. “In fact, I just might do that.” He soaked in his supporters’ shouted agreements with a triumphant smirk and brandished a gun. He pointed it at me lazily as he swaggered toward me. Clearly, Skinny Thor was used to getting his way through intimidation. “Moxxi should have hired someone else.”

“Hey, if you want to get into Moxxi’s bad graces, be my guest and kill me,” I challenged laconically, my heart racing. The man did a double-take as he searched for a witty comeback; he clearly expected a different reaction. “I don’t have to remind you all just how bloodthirsty she can be when she’s angry. And I doubt that any of you want to face that side of her. ‘Hell hath no fury’ and all of that,” I made a show of sizing up the skinny blond, “You look like you’d break under Moxxi’s attentions within a minute. Oh, the things she could do with a cat ‘o’ nine tails, lemon juice, and a pair of handcuffs. And I doubt you’d find it pleasant.” The bar’s occupants shifted and spoke in low tones to one another. I guessed that I’d hit the group’s collective nerve in just the right way with the way they were glancing uncertainly at the man who’d threatened me. Taking advantage of my opponents’ hesitation, I reiterated, “Again, if you want your booze, stop wasting time and get in line. There’s plenty to go around before the next match.”

The customers shambled into a loose line in front of the bar. Most of them grudgingly told me what they wanted to drink and waited patiently for me to serve them; I laughed and gently joked around when some of the patrons threatened to end my life if I ever did that again. My heckler approached when it was his turn and ordered a bottle of Fiery Rust rakk ale. I popped the cap off the bottle and wordlessly handed it to him when he confirmed his purchase.

“My name’s August,” he told me smoothly as I began to wipe down the counter. I glanced up to find him looking at me expectantly. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

“You threatened to torture and kill me about ten minutes ago, and now you want to be friendly?” I queried pleasantly. I put my mask on full force. You know…that mask that customer service associates wear when they’re dealing with a particularly difficult customer. It’s that pleasant, bright smile they wear, and you can’t determine if they’re being genuinely sympathetic or sarcastic. August shrugged in lieu of a response and fixed his frigid blue eyes on me, expecting an answer. I knew that there was no getting rid of him unless I gave him my name. Ignoring him wasn’t an option now that the crowd was focused on the match below. “My name’s Freyja.”

“After the ancient Norse goddess of love and beauty, right?”

“She was also the leader of the Valkyries, and brought the spirits of dead warriors to Valhalla.”

“You’re an aficionado of mythology?”

August sipped his ale, keeping his eyes on me. What was he playing at?

“Something like that.”

“What time do you get off?”

I waited until August took a healthy swig of his ale and smiled beatifically.

“That’s one thing you should never ask a lady, but I’ll leave that to your imagination.”

I cheekily winked at August when he erupted into a coughing fit and went to the other side of the bar to attend to another customer. The customer rattled off his order and nonchalantly checked his ECHO for messages. As I poured his double shot of scotch, I watched him from the corner of my eye. He had jet black hair with the beginnings of silver growing into his roots. It was the sort of look that some men from my world would pay good money to obtain. He was good looking for a guy at his age, and he knew it. Judging by the smirk on his face, he knew that I was observing him. I placed his drink on a coaster in front of him with a smile and began to busy myself with maintaining a clean bar. August wandered away from the bar but not before leaving a generous tip for me.

“That was quite the show you put on there, kid,” the raven-haired man quipped after taking his first sip of scotch, watching August leave with some distaste on his face. He watched as a match participant got eviscerated and grimaced as blood spilled on the floor. I sighed in defeat; I’d have to mop the floor again. “Not everyone appreciates being called a ‘bitch’ or ‘hoe’. People have been shot or carved up for less.”

“How about both at the same time?” I fired back innocently, dutifully refilling his drink when he signaled. He snorted and took another pull at his drink. “I was trying to get attention and it worked. It was either I get their attention or keep taking the threats.”

“And calling people bitches and hoes was the best course of action?”

“What would you have done?”

“Not that. Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish,” the man joked, though I detected a subtle bite of seriousness. He was holding something back, and already it set my teeth on edge. “People don’t take risks like that unless they’re either stupid or have nothing else to lose. Those bandits would have killed you and use your intestines as a jump rope. Then again, you’re pretty and their desire for booze outweighed their bloodlust. Lucky you.” I snorted and began to serve another customer. When I was finished, the man was still there and he was eyeing me with interest. “You’re more interesting than the typical bandit. Smarter than I thought, too. What’s your name?”

“And you’re a lot less odious than my previous customers. And slightly more charming than me, which is no easy feat.”

My joke had the desired effect because the man let out a sharp bark of a laugh as Moxxi came to relieve me. His heterochromatic eyes (that were eerily a lot like mine) settled on the sultry brunette as she entered the bar. Moxxi greeted August and his group with smiles and well-placed innuendos (and threats), earning a bright pink blush from the blond and a string of mumbled apologies. Then, she sauntered over to the bar and appraised the raven-haired man.

“Freyja, who’s your new friend?” she asked, her eyes roving over the man appreciatively and held out her hand for a shake. The man sipped his brandy as he studied my employer in the same manner. “I could eat you right up, sugar.”

“Feel free to do so. The name’s Jack, babe,” he replied smoothly. He reached for her proffered hand, partially removed the glove, and kissed the back of her hand. I don’t think the man ever blinked. He turned to me and put a healthy tip on the bar in front me, but he didn’t let go of it right away. “Stay out of trouble, Freyja. I plan on being a repeat customer.” Jack’s eyes latched onto Moxxi. “I’ll catch up with you later, gorgeous.”

He sauntered away after winking at Moxxi. She followed his progress while biting her lower lip. Her gaze lingered mostly on his retreating posterior. She snapped out of whatever trance she was in when he finally exited the bar.

“You’re still in one piece, that’s good,” she hummed, taking in my tired appearance. Then, she looked around the bar. “And the bar is…clean. For once.”

“I took advantage of whatever downtime I had,” I replied, itching to go mop up the blood on the floor again. Moxxi didn’t seem to notice or care that someone’s bodily fluids were all over the floor. That was more disturbing than relieving.

“You really wanted to impress me, didn’t you, sugar?” She took my silence as confirmation and reached out to cup my cheek with her ungloved hand. “That’s so sweet. Consider me impressed. I’m happy to welcome you to our little family. Now, go rest up and get something to eat.”

I nodded and untied my apron as I stepped away from the bar. Ceres glared at me as I strode away, unscathed. I exited the bar confidently, ignoring August’s lingering looks. My façade lasted until I arrived at the door to my apartment. As I was turning the key to my apartment, a pair of hands with long claws gripped my shoulders and pulled. I slammed into the wall opposite me, hit my head, and crumpled to the floor. Ceres stood in front of me, as angry and foreboding as a thundercloud.

“You were supposed to die in there,” she growled at me. She hauled me up by the collar of my shirt and pressed me against the wall with her hands at my throat. “No one survives, let alone leaves, Tartarus.”

“Well, I’m no Titan,” I joked weakly and gripped her hands with one of mine. I didn’t want to hurt her badly, just surprise her. I brought my free arm down on her locked arms and broke the tension. She wasn’t expecting that and backed away. “Are we done here? I’m hungry and you’re holding me up.”

I successfully unlocked my door and slipped into my apartment. After locking the door and listening to Ceres storm away, I braced myself against the door and took a deep breath. Then another. If crazy Ice Queen was going to keep accosting me, then I would need to learn how to defend myself. I wondered if Roland was willing to help me because I really didn't want my face to be rearranged by a platinum blonde harpy.

Chapter Text

(Jack POV)
I waited until I was safely back at my flat on Helios before I allowed myself a triumphant grin. Not only did Freyja survive the dimensional transfer, she’s thriving! That was one more thing I could rub in Tassiter’s face. The only thing that was left was to somehow bring Freyja’s latent Siren abilities to the surface. That was going to take the most amount of work.

For the time being, I needed to protect my asset. It was easier to think of her like an object. I knew what my dead wife would say if she was still here.

Just be honest with her, Gracie would say. She might understand what you’re doing and why. And she might be more likely to help.

You always did see the best in people, honey, I thought affectionately to her ghost. You saw the best in me and those damn bandits before—
Nope. Not going there. Sorry, Gracie.

I made myself a pot of coffee and picked up Freyja’s file from my desk. God, she looked so much like my Gracie and our daughter. She could pass for Angel’s older sister. I skimmed the file’s contents.

Name: Freyja Sturm
Origin: Earth
Date of Birth: 07/04/1990
Date of Death: 11/17/2009

I stopped there to rack my brain on how I was going to embed myself into Freyja’s life. If I showed up once a cycle or so, then she’d get used to seeing me. I could gain her trust and eventually bring her up to Helios for some tests.

I sipped my coffee, thinking over the angles I could play to get what I want. When I was satisfied with my plans, I tinkered with a brand-new ECHO I’d ordered, and programmed a code to track Freyja’s movements and vitals. It was going to be my way of keeping an eye on Freyja to make sure she didn’t get herself killed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Vallory)
I heard about Moxxi’s new employee through my son, August. The little chit called my clan “bitches and hoes” to gain their attention and leverage them into behaving. Bold and reckless, but effective enough to earn a smidge of respect from August. Nearly a cycle after Moxxi’s tournament and the girl’s debut, I was at the Underdome to conduct some business when I met the new employee.

She was a pretty thing with long black hair and mismatched eyes. August was buttering her up, judging by the flush that bled across her cheeks. Then, my eyes locked onto a figure behind my son and his new acquaintance. The platinum blonde psycho glared at both of them as she viciously cut lemon slices.

“I want her dead too,” Moxxi murmured, sipping delicately from her glass. “She’s been stealing from me and threatening my other employees.”

“I told you she’d become a problem,” I replied coolly. “Is that why you called me here? To plan Ceres’ death?”

“Yes.”

“You just don’t want me to execute her now.”

“That wouldn’t help either of us, sugar. I have a different plan in mind that’ll help all of us, including Freyja.”

Interesting.

“I’m listening,” I assured my new business partner. I removed a cigarette from its metal case and lit up.

“I need Freyja to prove to me that she can hold her own in a fight,” the buxom brunette replied. “Ceres needs to pay for her crimes against both me and you. And you need closure. Everyone wins except for Ceres.”

“Your new girl needs to cut her teeth on other bandits first. She’s skag meat the way she is now.”

“I’m working on it,”

I took a drag and exhaled slowly, mulling things over.

“I want to meet her first,” I said. I glanced at my hostess over my glasses. “I want to make sure she’s worth my time and August’s.”

“Freyja! Could you get Vallory another glass of whiskey?” Moxxi called pleasantly. Freyja nodded in acknowledgement and dutifully poured me a glass of liquor. To my surprise, the girl remembered that I preferred my drink with no ice. Freyja approached with my drink and gently placed it on the table between us. “Thank you, sweetheart. Before you go, I want to introduce you to Vallory. Vallory is a long-time business partner and patron of mine.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” the younger woman replied respectfully. The new girl had manners. That boded well for future visits, but I wanted to test her first. Did she have wit to go along with those good manners?

“Are you calling me old and decrepit?” I asked calmly, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the younger woman’s face.

“Not at all. I usually refer to women I consider wiser than me as ‘ma’am’.”

“HA!” I laughed despite myself. “You’ve got some spunk, girl. I’ll give you that.” I turned to Moxxi and stubbed out my cigarette. “Moxxi, you’ve got a deal. I look forward to doing more business with you.” I nodded curtly to Freyja and strolled out of the bar.

(Freyja)

I watched the imposing woman leave the bar and waited until the door closed behind her before I let a relieved sigh escape past my lips.

“Wow, that went well,” August muttered in surprise. He took a swig of his rakk ale and shot me a smirk. “Very few people can do what you just did, Valkyrie.”

“Please don’t call me that,” I groaned and replaced August’s empty bottle with a cold one. His blue eyes crinkled in amusement. “I am not a fierce Norse goddess that takes fallen warriors to Valhalla and serves them drinks before Ragnarok.”

“Nope, but you’re named after one. Might as well go with it.” August took another swig and shot me a playful wink. “Besides, ‘Valkyrie’ sounds like it’d be a badass name for a bandit. I’ll make sure to save it for you just in case you decide you don’t want to sling drinks anymore.” The tall blond stood up and stretched. Then, he removed a wad of cash and plunked it down onto the bar. August held the wad down for a moment and caught my gaze. Then, he glanced at the doors as they opened to admit Jack. “Watch your back, Freyja. Ceres has a tendency to attack from behind with sharp knives. Very sneaky shit. And there’s something off about Moxxi’s new admirer. Keep your eyes open, okay? See you later, Valkyrie.”

As August walked away, Jack approached. The two men exchanged glances, bare acknowledgement of the other’s existence, and kept walking to their destinations. I noted Jack’s brusque demeanor and poured him a bourbon. Jack raised a brow in askance.

“You look like you’re having a rough day,” I replied to Jack’s unasked question. “I figured you’d want something stronger than a beer.”

“I appreciate it, ‘Valkyrie’,” Jack teased with a cheeky wink. I flushed in embarrassment.

August, you suck, I thought grumpily as Jack chuckled.

“I think someone likes you,” he joked, though there was an edge to his tone and smile. “I’d be careful, if I were you. He’s a bandit’s son, and he’ll only protect you for as long as it serves his clan’s interests. I’d have to kick his ass for breaking your heart.”

“You barely know me,” I replied playfully. “We’ve only met once and already you’re behaving like a papa bear.”

“I’m watching out for a very impressionable young woman.”

“Right, and I’m a pink scrollaphant.”

Jack cracked a smile at my sarcasm and sipped his drink.

“Seriously, I’ll kick his ass if you end up dating him,” Jack told me. “My advice: don’t date bandits like him.”

Strong enough argument, I suppose, I thought. Only one out of five of the other employees I work with hate me and want to literally kill me. Moxxi told me that bandits make up about eighty percent of the population on Pandora, and only a fraction of those bandits is half-decent and somewhat reasonable like Vallory and August.

Moxxi followed by Mordecai stormed out of the backroom. The tall sniper glanced at me and Jack, and scowled before stalking out of the bar. I glanced at Moxxi from the corner of my eye. Her face and neck were flushed under her heavy makeup. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, though she defiantly swiped at her eyes when she realized she was about to show weakness. My employer locked eyes with me and dared me to ask if she was okay.

“The rakk ale shipment came in,” I informed her instead, knowing that exposing someone’s weakness by asking if they were okay was a big no-no around here. Moxxi relaxed somewhat and nodded in acknowledgement. “So did the bourbon and whiskey. I rotated all of the liquor so that the older bottles get used first.”

“Ceres was supposed to do that,” Moxxi replied with a frown. Her gaze lingered on me for an extra moment, assessing me. “No matter. You stepped up and did it. Thank you, sugar.” She shot Jack a sultry look before dismissing me. “Go clock out, Freyja. You earned your night off.”

“Thank you. Have a good night.”

“Hold on, Freyja,” Jack interjected. He removed a couple of bills from his jacket and placed them on the bar. “For your service. And the fact you can have a coherent conversation with me. No, don’t look at me like that. Just take the damn money. Don’t spend it all in one shot and remember what I said.” Jack leaned in and winked. “Now get out of here so I can flirt with your pretty boss.”

I reluctantly accepted the money, counted out the money to cover his drink, and left after leaving part of my tip in Moxxi’s tip jar. I nodded to Moxxi and Jack, and left the bar. I was going to eat a lean dinner and read until I passed out.

Chapter Text

(Freyja)

Avoiding certain death became the norm on Pandora, but I never expected several of my coworkers attempt to kill me. Ceres was crazy and more or less always told me that she didn’t like me, but I didn’t anticipate the other employees to follow suit. I would much rather have played a game of tag or have a pun war or something.

Anyway, it started about cycle (roughly 90 hours) after my interaction with Jack (I won’t say weird interaction because, as far as I’m concerned, everyone on this planet that I’ve interacted with is weird. Well, weirder than me). I was in the ladies’ staff locker room, changing into my gym clothes. I always worked out and showered before my shifts. As I was pulling my tank top over my head, Moxxi sashayed into the locker room. She leaned against the lockers next to mine and crossed her arms loosely.

“Good, you’re already in suitable clothing for your assignment,” she approved with a shrewd smile. “We have another tournament soon, and I want the locker rooms and the gym near Hell-Burbia spotless before our contestants arrive.”

“Certainly,” I replied dutifully, swallowing my disappointment at the task ahead of me. “I’ll get it done.”

“I know you will, sweetheart. That’s why I’m asking you to do it. You’ll get it done, and you’ll get it done right without complaining. Feel free to blast your weird music while you clean.”

“My taste in music is impeccable, thank you.”

Moxxi winked at me and walked away. As soon as she left, I changed into the worn clothing. It fit me well enough to accomplish what I needed to. I grinned at the prospect of listening some metal and instrumental music as I cleaned. Extricating my ECHO from my clothing, I scrolled through my music until I found something I liked.

First, I tackled the women’s locker room, thinking it would be easier to clean. It was. Most of the Underdome contestants were men. Really, the worst things I had to clean were the toilets and showers.

Then, I entered the men’s locker room.

The stench of old unwashed humanity and unflushed toilets washed over me like a tidal wave. Dried blood and other questionable stains decorated the tile floors, showers, toilets, and lockers. At that moment, I was glad for the mask that covered my nose and mouth. Otherwise, I would have tossed my cookies for sure.

Poop train has a whole new meaning, I thought sarcastically. Seriously, why stop at poop trains? Why not blood planes? What about jizz trucks? Vomit cars? *snort* Okay, I’ve got to stop.

CHK-CHK BANG!

The ceiling erupted into a shower of dust, dirt, and dry wall. I peeked around the still-dirty locker bay that, incidentally, became my shield. A tall, burly figure loomed in the doorway, cradling a large shotgun in his hands. I could see T O R G U E emblazoned over a yellow and black checkerboard on the weapon and mouthed a curse as I put my back against the lockers again.

Not only is a coworker trying to kill me, he’s trying to blow me to bits, I thought incredulously. If he’d succeeded, there would be bits of me over there, over there, and up there! This locker room would literally be as well decorated as the bar I first met Moxxi in. Just need to write REDRUM from one of the blood puddles for a finishing touch. Moxxi would love that!

“You still alive?” my musclebound assassin asked aloud.

Now why on Earth would I answer you if I’m trying to stay alive?!

“It ain’t nothing personal,” he continued, boldly stepping into the locker room. “Ceres has been bitching about ya stealin’ her job, and she paid me damn good money to kill ya. If you come out now, I’ll make sure yer death is quick an’ painless. Though, I say it’s a waste. Ya been nothin’ but decent towards me an’ Maurice since ya came here.”

It’s personal especially when you’re a person, I mentally argued, creeping along the locker bay and matching the man’s lumbering footsteps. Am I supposed to say ‘sure, what’s a little murder between coworkers’? Ugh. I really don’t like Ceres.

To be honest, I wasn’t at all surprised that Ceres paid one of our coworkers to kill me. I actually anticipated it.

After Ceres released a skag into one of the training rings while I was cleaning it, it was clear that the platinum blonde with a perpetual and somewhat scary RBF wanted to kill me.

Yes, I admit. I am positively terrified of Ceres. The woman is a psycho. She takes the cake on “Crazy Coworker of the Year”.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand, I timed my movement according to Francis’s lumbering gait. I stashed my gear in a nearby locker and had a small, unpleasant surprise for the cool-headed bruiser. Luckily, I didn’t have to go far. My locker was on the other side of the bay, and low to the ground.

This is going to be really gross, I mentally groaned. I began to remove my work boots and arranged them neatly in a different locker. I’m going to take at least three scalding showers just to get rid of all the bodily fluids off my body. Ugh…I’m going to hurl. Toss my cookies. Bucket. Dammit, Freyja, STOP. It won’t be that bad…right?

Oh, how wrong I was. As soon as I touched the dirty tiles with my feet, I shuddered and began to creep along the locker bay to my stash. Breathing shallowly through my nose, I pleaded with my body to keep my stomach’s contents where they belonged. In me.

Francis’s boots echoed loudly in the locker room, making it difficult for me to pinpoint where he was. Thankfully, he was moving the opposite direction of my stash. I silently thanked whatever or whoever was watching over me, and carefully opened my locker.

I need to get my good shield, my not-so-good shield, and my little surprise, I coached myself. I breathed slowly and listened for Francis.

I quickly attached the shock grenade to my crappy shield that August had thrown out. It was a Nova shield that exploded after taking a certain amount of damage. Now, I didn’t want to kill anyone, so I recalibrated both to knock someone out instead punching their ticket early. I didn’t achieve this through any know-how (I have a very severe love-hate relationship with the technology in this new world). So, I did what any other young adult from my world would have done…I looked up videos on how to do something. The ECHOnet was a beautiful thing (when I wasn’t getting frustrated with jargon and technology).

My task done, I equipped my shield and remained low as I crept away from my locker. Once I was far enough away, I had some misgivings about harming my coworker. Then again, the guy was trying to off me using a shotgun with explosive rockets! I padded around a locker bay to intercept the bruiser.

“There you are,” he rumbled, leveling the firearm at me. “Do you have any last words? A final message for your loved ones.”

“I don’t have anyone,” I replied truthfully. The bruiser frowned but didn’t lower his gun.

“Gimme a reason not to kill you and I won’t.”

“I have something for Ceres in my locker, but I don’t want you to touch it. Could you go get her for me?”

“No, where’s your locker?”

“You don’t want what’s in there, sir.”

The bruiser reached out and grabbed my arm. He all but growled at me to lead him to my locker and I acquiesced when he squeezed just a bit too hard. I led him to my locker and tried one more time to reconsider getting my surprise for Ceres himself. We arrived and I stepped onto the wooden bench in anticipation. Francis quirked an eyebrow.

“What?” I asked defensively. “Have you seen yourself? You’re a frickin’ mountain.”

Francis shook his head and opened the locker. The effect was immediate: the shock grenade’s pin was out and the grenade was primed. Francis swore loudly and tried to get away. The fuse time was less than a second and the grenade went off. Once the shield took the maximum amount of damage it could, it exploded. I was already around the corner from the danger and I saw Francis take cover across from me, virtually unscathed.

I thought that the mountainous bruiser was going to kill me right then and there. Then, he started laughing.

Uh…that’s different, I thought.

“What the HELL is going on here?!” a distinctly feminine voice all but yelled into the locker room. A pair of heels clacked into the locker room, and I knew then that Moxxi had come to intervene. She was likely drawn to the thunderous boom of the Nova shield exploding. “Francis, why do you have a shotgun? Where’s Freyja?”

“Um…” the burly man trailed shamefully.

“What did I say about killing her? She’s off-limits. Did Ceres put you up to this?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I swear I’m gonna—ahem…I’m going to throttle that girl myself if she keeps this up. I don’t even want to ask if Freyja’s still alive.”

“I’m okay, Moxxi,” I replied honestly. I met Francis’s gaze with a nod. “Francis was—”

“Just leaving.”
Uh-oh.

Moxxi just about dragged the bruiser out of the locker room by his ear like an elderly school marm. Not that I would repeat my thought to her about that little tidbit. 

“No, Moxxi, wait,” I pleaded. The green-eyed brunette spun on her heel to glare at me. “I think Francis has been punished enough today. Ceres hired him to kill me, right? He shot at me and missed. And even though I tried to warn him against looking in my locker, he didn’t take my warning seriously and got a Nova shield explosion to the face. Don’t you think that’s punishment enough?”

My buxom boss narrowed her eyes in suspicion at both of us. She glanced at Francis for confirmation, who then nodded. Then, she brightened considerably and released Francis. The bruiser grinned and gave me a thumb’s up before retreating to clean up.

“Congratulations, sugar,” Moxxi purred and smiled beatifically at my astonished expression. “You passed my test with flying colors. Oh, don’t look so surprised! I paid Francis to pretend to intend to kill you. Unlike some people, you showed restraint with that grenade on shield idea.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” I replied, pretending I wasn’t weak in the knees at her admission of sending Francis to pretend to kill me. “I still don’t. And I certainly don’t want to kill anyone. Ceres, on the other hand, wants to kill me.”

“So, learn how to fight and kick her scrawny derriere. God knows she needs to be knocked down a few hundred notches.”

Moxxi threw a wink over her shoulder and sashayed out of the locker room.

If that’s not a stamp of approval, then I don’t know what is, I mused as I glanced around the mini warzone. Welp, time to get back to work. This locker room won’t clean itself.

We need to be as useful as possible. Let me rephrase that: I need to be as useful as I can be to Moxxi. I cannot afford to be a weak link. So, I need to work out, work my butt off, and earn enough money to pay Lilith and Roland to teach me how to fight.

Chapter Text

I threw myself into work every night, and sometimes in the day. I moved up from Tartarus to the Pit then to the Abyss in a manner of a month, with Ceres and another bartender taking over Tartarus for me. It didn’t take August and Jack very long to track me down, but I wasn’t as interested in talking to them as I was in talking to the four mercs that saved my hide. Whenever Jack showed up, he was sure to shower Moxxi with attention and expensive gifts. I had a sneaking suspicion that my employer was enjoying the attention, and it wouldn’t be too long until she would cut her losses with Mordecai to pursue Jack.

Not that I could blame her.

Mordecai seemed to only care for Bloodwing, and didn’t invest as much attention in Moxxi. One day, their relationship came to a grinding halt and I was privy to the ensuing argument. I was carrying a case of rakk ale down from the shipping docks when I heard their raised voices.

“It’s not fair that I have to fight for your attention, Mordecai,” Moxxi argued, crossing her arms. “You’ve always been too busy with your bird to pay attention to me.”

“Blood’s my partner,” the goggled man retorted, taking an equally defensive stance on the other side of the bar. “And you knew that when you signed on to be in a relationship with me.”

“Signed on? Signed on?! I didn’t sign onto anything. This wasn’t a marriage or a business partnership. This wasn’t even a relationship! It was all one-sided. Being in a relationship means paying attention to each other and communicating. The only relationship you’re in, that matters to you, is the one with your stupid bird!”

“So what? That’s it? We’re just going to end things?”

“There’s really nothing to ‘end’. We had sex and you constantly attended to your dumb bird. So, if you really need the confirmation, then, yes, we’re finished. I want your things out of my apartment by tomorrow.”

I thought Mordecai was going to try to have the last word but he stormed out of The Abyss instead. I silently made my way through the double swinging doors into the bar, thinking Moxxi was gone too.

“How much of that did you hear, Freyja?” Moxxi asked me dejectedly. She wasn’t crying but she didn’t look happy either. My employer did her damnedest to look proud and I had no intention to take that away from her. “Be honest.”

“I heard enough to know that you guys are no longer together,” I replied somewhat guiltily. I began to put away the rakk ale in the fridge. “I know it’s not my place to say, Moxxi, but you did what you thought was right for you. Staying with someone that won’t give you the attention you deserve only results in more pain and suffering. And not the good kind, either.”

As intended, the last part made Moxxi giggle. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a loose hug and whispered her thanks into my bare neck. After pecking my cheek, she exited the bar while wiping at her eyes. I knew then that I made a friend out of Moxxi.

There was still the matter of learning how to effectively defend myself.  Roland and the others were participating in the Underdome tournament, so I had the chance to approach them the day before their collective match. They were all working out; Brick was pumping iron that would have made any bodybuilder cry in shame with Roland as his spot, Mordecai was running on an elliptical, and Lilith was performing some stretches on a barre. I entered the rec room with some water bottles and other refreshments. Moxxi always wanted her tournament participants to be treated like royalty; you know, to make up for the number of times they get their asses handed to them. Roland, Brick, and Lilith stopped what they were doing to crowd around me, needing water. Mordecai continued to run, effectively ignoring us. As Brick and Lilith refreshed themselves, I drew Roland to the side.

“I need a favor,” I began quietly, not wanting the other three to listen and have a chance to dissent. “I need to learn how to defend myself, and you’re one of the only people I know of who might be willing to help me. I can pay, though not much.”

“Why do you need me to teach you how to defend yourself?” Roland asked, shrewdly sizing me up before sipping his water. I silently cursed his ability to be able to see past the mask that I’ve so carefully crafted in my time with Moxxi. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong really. It’s the usual. The entire planet is hostile and deadly; flora and fauna plus the rest of the humans on this planet are just itching to kill any poor, unprepared soul. Like me. Why would I not need to learn how to defend myself?”

“You’re not answering my question, Freyja.”

“Someone may or may not want to kick my ass for being more successful than she is.”

Roland snorted and took a long drink from his second water bottle. I knew that I had said enough for him to weigh his options. What I wasn’t expecting was him calmly putting down his water bottle and throwing a punch my way.

I scrambled to dodge his blow, but his fist still successfully connected with my ribs. My breath rushed out of me with a whoosh and I staggered backwards. Roland advanced again, using his height to his advantage to advance on me again. Brick, Mordecai, and Lilith began watching our impromptu sparring match intently. I felt the heat of Lilith’s gaze more than anyone else’s. I didn’t have any time to wonder why I felt her gaze more than the others because Roland’s fist came into my peripheral once more to deliver another painful blow. I was ready this time and blocked his incoming hook as best as I could with my forearm. The impact of his muscled forearm on my skinny one jarred me and I grit my teeth as he applied some pressure. I broke the block and backed away.

“Good enough,” Roland praised. He raised his fists to protect his face. “Now, punch me.” I reluctantly complied; I balled my hands into a fist and threw a punch. In an instant, I knew that I’d failed; as soon as I swung my fist, Roland smirked and blocked. He picked me up and threw me over his hip. The next thing I knew, I was on my back looking up at Roland and the others. The stoic soldier frowned down at me as I began to sit up. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I threw you down pretty hard.”

“I think I know what I did wrong,” I rasped, my injured ribs and back screamed at me to go lay down on a bed of ice. Though I knew that if I turned tail and walked away, then I would fail this test. Everything on Pandora seemed to be a series of tests and Roland was testing my resolve to learn how to defend myself. “Let’s go again.”

“No, Moxxi would be angry if she knew that I was throwing punches at one of her employees,” Roland replied. He stubbornly crossed his arms as I stood up. Lilith frowned at her lover’s mulish behavior. Then, he sighed and said, “Work on planting your feet and making a better fist. Once you’ve learned how to do that, then we’ll talk. I also want you to be the one to convince Moxxi to let me train you. She’s your employer and expects you to look a certain way; I don’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“Moxxi’s more than smart enough to know that Pandora isn’t exactly all sunshine and rainbows,” Lilith interjected for me. Her molten gold eyes locked with mine. “My only advice is that you ask sooner rather than later.”

I nodded and slowly exited the rec room.

As it turned out, it didn’t take much to convince Moxxi to allow Roland and the others to teach me how to defend myself. She mentioned that it would be better for me to learn from them than her. Despite being deadlier than most bandits, the Queen of The Underdome had been out of the adventuring game for a while, and had become too busy running the coliseum to teach a new employee the most basic of techniques. She wasn’t too happy about the possibility of Mordecai contributing to my training though, but I was set to begin my training within the month; Roland and the others weren’t going to teach me for free and I’d need to save up.

“Here, sugar, you’re going to need these,” my boss told me as she handed me a couple of weapons. One of them was an Atlas Troll. From what I heard, the pistol was a rare weapon and cost more than a boatload of money to procure. The other weapon was a tritanium (a weird, nearly unbreakable metal in this new world) hunting knife that could cut through skag hide like a hot knife through butter. “Despite being a gentleman, Roland won’t go easy on you just because you’re a woman, sugar.”

“I don’t want him to,” I replied, meeting her eyes evenly. “None of Pandora’s denizens will go easy on me either; why should he?”

“You’re smarter than people think you are,” Moxxi approved. “Just make sure Roland or Mordecai don’t punch you in the face. No amount of makeup will be able to cover that up.”

“Almost everything else is fair game, I assume. Thank you for these.”

“Don’t mention it, sugar. It’ll kill my reputation. Now, go. You don’t want to keep them waiting.”

I nodded and briskly walked to the arena Roland reserved for my training. It was brightly lit with strategic places for cover scattered throughout the arena. The arena was quiet and there was no sign of Roland or the others. I glanced around as I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Something felt off about the arena; it felt like a trap. The moment I took a step farther into the arena, the lights went out. The whole arena was completely devoid of light. Despite allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark, I still could not see. I was completely blind. Somewhere to my right, there was a crunch on the gravel. I saw enough horror movies to know that it was a bad idea to call out lest my would-be assailant decided to jump scare me.

“Son of a monkey’s uncle,” I muttered.

The lights flickered back on just in time for me to see (and feel) a gloved hand collide with my right temple. I promptly dropped to the ground.

“First rule: stay conscious through the entire fight,” Mordecai sneered as Brick handed me an icepack when I came to with a groan. Lilith sent Mordecai a withering glare as Roland checked me over.

“Mordecai, the agreement was to avoid hitting Freyja in the face and head,” the former soldier told the sniper with a sigh. “Now I have to explain why Freyja ended up with a huge bruise on her head.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. Most of the people on this hellhole of a planet are psychotic bandits that won’t hesitate to do worse.”

“We’re supposed to be training her to defend herself, not beating her down until she can’t stand,” Lilith snapped back.

“What’s the difference? That’s how me and Brick learned.”

Roland sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. It seemed that my first lesson was not going according to Roland’s plan. At that moment, I didn’t care. My head throbbed painfully as I pressed the ice pack to where Mordecai punched me. Then, it occurred to me that Mordecai did what he did because he, like Ceres, didn’t think that I was able to survive Pandora. He merely wanted to prove it to Roland, Lilith, and Brick.

Well, I proved someone wrong once, who’s to say I can’t do it again? I mused. Then again, it’s probably better that Captain Grumpilicious underestimates me anyway, isn’t it? People always underestimate Moxxi. All they see with her is a pretty face and an hourglass figure; they would never be able to anticipate that she’s a brilliant engineer.

“Maybe you should take the rest of the day to recover,” Mordecai suggested, feigning concern. Bloodwing shrieked her agreement from somewhere in the rafters. “It’s too bad you won’t be able to train today. Go run back to Moxxi and her new squeeze.”

“What does Moxxi have to do with you and the others training me?” I asked, automatically guessing where the hunter’s mind was going. “You think I had something to do with Moxxi breaking up with you.”

“You introduced her to her new bed buddy!”

“He was a customer that I was serving when she came in to relieve me of my shift. She introduced herself before I even said anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Mordecai stalked closer to me and pointed a warning finger at me. “Just keep in mind that that asshole Moxxi’s dating is all kinds of wrong. You’d better watch your back because I sure as hell won’t watch it for you.”

Mordecai turned on his heel and went to attend to his wakizashi on the sidelines. Brick followed him; Roland probably knew that the mountainous berserker would pummel me to death if he were to train me. That just left Roland and Lilith to train me…for the time being. Roland began my training with a warmup and a stretch (even though I wouldn’t have much time to limber up before a fight). Then, he taught me fundamental hand-to-hand combat techniques; the fancier stuff would come later, he told me. For the time being, I was learning how to fall, dodge, and block.