Author's Note: So this is my first story published on . It's a Tales from the Borderlands/Borderlands 2 fan fiction involving my and a friend's role play characters. In keeping with the spirit of Tales from the Borderlands, the story is tailored to the decisions the characters make. A wrong choice can lead to their demise, but the story picks up right where it left off. It doesn't end- the endings merely provide insight to the reader. (Trust me, at the end this will all make sense.)

I really hope you enjoy this fan fiction, and I am open to any advice and constructive criticism you have to offer.

-Poptart_Kaii

So Let There be Mercy

A Character's Life

Character Playlist:

She Used to be Mine from The Waitress

Control from Halsey's BADLANDS

River by BISHOP

I Dare You by Bea Miller

Silver Lining by First Aid Kit

I Can Go the Distance cover by annapantsu

Control by Halsey

Let it Go by James Bay

Let it Go cover by Madilyn Bailey

Over You by Daughtry

Home by Daughtry

Hold Me Down by Halsey

Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine

No Light, No Light Florence + The Machine

So Close sung by Jon McLaughlin

Say Something (I'm Giving Up on You) A Great Big World + Christina Aguilera

Wild Horses by BISHOP

Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

Alone Together by Fall Out Boy

Pompeii by Bastille

Unsteady by X Ambassadors

Angel with a Shotgun by The Cab

Everybody Talks by Neon Trees

Burn from Hamilton, by Lin Manuel Miranda

More will be added.

Prologue

Mercy was an average girl.

At least, she liked to believe so. She liked to close her eyes and pretend for one moment that she had no drop of special blood in her. That she was sitting in class with her friends, laughing and talking about boys and girly things and gawking over nail polish. She liked to pretend that her mother would be waiting for her when she came back from school, that she'd be there, not just physically but mentally.

But then someone in the seat next to her would cough and mutter, "Daddy's girl", or "dirty slut's child" or some insult aimed at her and Mercy would open her mismatched eyes and find herself staring at her reflection in the mirror because the insults followed her everywhere, even into her own home where someone maybe hadn't spoken to her in days.

Mercy wiped the steam off the mirror with her hand so she could see herself better. This was a morning routine for her. She would stand there, age 16, clutching her towel around her and study her face. Her eyes were a dead giveaway of her bloodline, her mother would tell her between swigs of the bottle and drags of the cigarettes, and that sometimes the light hit them just right and would bring out the green in the left one.

Well her mother was delusional, because Mercy's eyes were both blue. But one was a deep blue, and the other light as ice. But her mother also believed that her father was coming back to her one day because he promised her, so Mercy didn't really pay much attention to what she said all that much anymore.

Until it was when Mercy woke up to her uncle shaking her to get out of bed in the late night in mid October, saying her mother wanted one last word with her.

Her stomach twisting up in knots, Mercy walked down the dimly lit hall to her mother's dingy room. Her mother, Alice, looked half dead already, and the other half was coming soon.

She beckoned her daughter over and Mercy found her feet couldn't move as fast as she wanted them to. When she reached her mother's side, she had already mumbled something and reached beneath her pillow.

Mercy watched as her mother offered her something clutched in her fist- a silver chain caught an unknown light source and shone. Alice's fingers splayed open to reveal the ring that her father had given her over 16 years ago, when he left.

"I want you to have it," Alice slurred.

"I don't want it," Mercy said, stepping back, but Alice reached out and grabbed her shirt with surprising speed and a strong grip.

"Take it, child," Alice said. "Take it and find him. He's your father and needs to know that I died waiting for him to come back to me." She coughed a few times, deep and painful ones, and handed the necklace to Mercy.

She stared at it in her palm long after her mother had passed, when her uncle had led her out into the living room to sit and process the shock.

But Mercy wasn't shocked. Far from it. Her mother's death had been a long time coming, and she had said her goodbyes so long ago as a five year old girl, when Alice first took a sip of that bottle and refused to set it down for eleven years after that. When her uncle came to live with them because someone found that poor Mercy hadn't eaten in three days and was wandering around the grungy food market begging for pieces of bread and fruit. When Alice had to be confined to the bed because everything was slowly shutting down and, with the lack of medical technology on this planet, no one could tell Mercy why.

Mercy closed her fingers around the cool metal of the ring, looking across the room to the mirror hanging on the wall. She slowly got up and walked over to it, watching her reflection get closer. With hesitancy, Mercy slid the chain around her throat and clasped the lock, moving her hair out from underneath the thin silver line. The ring hung between her breasts- a golden band with a large red gemstone in the middle. Hyperion was written on one side, and her father's initials were written on the other. The red stone was carved to look like a 'V', a symbol of the vaults her father was known for finding.

She would either be praised or crucified for this ring, and she didn't know which was worse. The insults from the girls were out of fear, as well as the admiration from the boys and lenience of the teachers. It was supposed to be only them, the teachers, that knew her secret, but 16 years ago everyone saw Alice and Jack waltz into a room together, and any idiot could put 2 and 2 together when they saw Alice's belly grow a little each week for 9 months after that. Anyone could get 4 when they saw Mercy. Even as a child she took after her father.

Mercy tucked the ring into her shirt, out of sight. Her uncle came into the living room and cleared his throat.

"We're leaving this place after the funeral." He informed her.

Mercy stared at him for several seconds, then turned and left to her room, closing the door quietly behind her. She sat at the edge of her bed and reached under the mattress, pulling out an old propaganda poster of Handsome Jack.

"Well Dad," she said quietly to the poster, "looks like it's just you and me."

Chapter One: The Proposal

Every day working for Hyperion was a nerve wracking experience.

Mostly because Mercy had gone to school for 10 years to be a mechanical engineer, but she was here giving tours of her deceased father's office and life.

For the first two years after her mother's death, Mercy was working an internship on one of Hyperions' space station in the mechanical engineering program, and excelled at it. Then, without explanation, she was sent to Helios. When she arrived, she was relieved to find that no one knew who she was. Her uncle handled the documentation for her, as the files said she was a daughter of Handsome Jack. Only high officials knew of her existence- the files were encrypted and almost impossible to hack. It was easier to use the password, but even that was protected.

These were sacred files. And if they fell into the wrong hands, well… her uncle assured her they wouldn't.

Mercy was excited to start her life here, to know what it was like to be normal. At least by Hyperion standards. The fashion was lacking but she went with it. Anything to fit in. Throughout her internship she was coddled- not because she was a girl, she proved them her capabilities on her first day, but because someone let it slip who her daddy was and suddenly everything was easy and every mistake was waved off. All anyone could talk to her about was Handsome Jack, ask her questions that only someone close to him would know. She would lock her jaw and keep turning the screw in front of her until they eventually gave up and left her alone.

But here… she was given a tour guide's uniform when she reported for duty. She looked quizzically to the person opposite her, who merely shrugged and said, "it is what it is. Move along."

The next six years were a blur- giving tours all day every day, with only an hour in between them for rest and lunch. She tried to grin and bear it, but most nights when she took off those black heels and sat on her bed, she felt drained. Some nights she cried. Others she sat in silence.

Then, one day, when she was 26, Mercy was promoted out of the blue. Head tour guide, tasked with only the VIP tours and overseeing all the tour guides, setting up times for everything and advising displays. She had a chance to breathe, and on the days she was touring she was given high pay rates. Oddly, Mercy began to feel happy.

A few weeks after she was given that promotion, however, Mercy was called upon to visit Helios's vice president. Nervously, she walked through the halls and gave a nod at the secretary.

"He's been waiting," the secretary said, typing into her computer, glasses perched on her nose. "And you know corporate doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Mercy didn't respond. Her VIP tour had run late- they wanted to stay in Handsome Jack's office for a while longer and paid her a hefty sum for the extra time, but unfortunately she was more than half an hour late. Mercy was ushered in and the door slid shut behind her. She looked back longingly to the comfortable lighting of the hallway. Here it was dark, with nothing but the desk in the center of the large room and a circular window that opened up the world of Pandora.

"You can sit down," said a voice from the desk. The chair was turned away from her, so she couldn't see whoever was in it. The voice was vaguely familiar.

Mercy's heels clicked against the floor as she walked forward and stood just beside one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"You wanted to see me?" Mercy asked, hands clasped in front of her. She never had felt so weak, so small, up until that point. She never really had to deal with corporate- that was all her uncle's doing.

The chair swiveled and the person in it came into the dim light.

Hugo Vasquez.

Mercy shuddered internally. She hated the guy- to put it politely, he was a dick.

"Have a seat," Vasquez said, waving to the chair beside Mercy.

Mercy glanced to the black chair then back to the corporate man.

"I'd rather stand," she said meekly. Vasquez came out from behind the desk and walked over to her, towering over her.

"I said to sit down," he said in a voice that was rich velvet, but they both knew there was an underlying tone that he could, and would, make her sit down if she didn't soon.

She chose to obey, crossing her legs and sitting tall, hands in her lap, her face impassive even though her heart was thumping against her ribs by this point.

"Now as you know," Vasquez said, adjusting his tie and walking in circles around the chair and desk, like a shark would its injured prey, "I am a man of power. A respected individual. I lack nearly nothing- power, wits, intelligence, I have it all." He turned and looked at her. "I'm set up for life. Like you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mercy lied smoothly, having been told what to do in situations like this- play the dumb blonde. "I live paycheck to paycheck like the rest of the lower class workers."

"Ah but you're not a low class worker," Vasquez corrected, holding up his hand and silencing her. "You're not low class at all, are ya? Let's see…" He went to his computer and brought up her file and employee ID.

Mercy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The corporate scum had access to this information and Vasquez was a sneaky bastard. She had to find a way to lie out of this one.

"Yes, it says right here that your father is one handsome fellow," Vasquez, glancing at her over the screen, his face bathed in the blue glow and giving him an ominous lighting.

Mercy was silent, except for the tapping of her heel on the ground as anxiety began to set in. That was the first bite- the shark was coming closer now, liking what it had tasted.

"Alright," she said, setting both feet on the ground. "How much do you want?"

Vasquez barked a laugh and closed the file from his screen, staying behind his desk. "Oh my dear girl, you misheard. I said I have almost everything, and that includes money. I just need one more thing and I'll be completely set."

"And what might you need?" Mercy asked, glowering at the man. He smiled and walked over to her, placing his hand on her knee and sliding it up her thigh, just beneath the hem of the pencil skirt of her tour guide uniform.

"I'll spread the wealth if you, let's just say… spread something else," he said in a low growl, gripping the flesh of her thigh. Mercy jumped up, chest to chest with the man as he refused to move. His hand dropped to his side and he grinned at her expectantly as she moved away. "I understand that was a bit crude," he said with a chuckle, running his hand through his raven black hair, "but I'd make an honest woman out of you. The ceremony, the rings, the white dress, although, hell, we both know you're not the virgin and virtuous kind. Not with those legs and a chest like that."

Mercy reddened in the face, partly anger but mostly embarrassment.

"I won't," she said finally. "I appreciate the offer, trust me, it's… flattering, but I cannot marry you."

Vasquez sighed dramatically and went to sit down at his desk.

"Such a shame," he said, sorting through some files on his desk and nonchalantly opening one and flipping through it. Mercy caught sight of a woman with milk white skin and hair and a mask, but the page flipped before she could get a better look. "I was always so nice to you. Your father really seemed to like me, always taking time out of his day for me. I figured he would approve of me. I gave you all those promotions too. But oh well." His eyes flashed maliciously to hers. "Let me make this clear, sweetheart," he said the word with a razor's edge in his voice, "if you don't marry me, I'll leak the files to everyone here. Your secret will be out."

Mercy squared her shoulders.

"People idolised my father," she said, chin up and trying to establish dominance, and lie to herself that she wasn't terrified of what this man would do to her, "so you'd be doing me a favor, actually."

"On Helios, in Hyperion, yes," Vasquez said with a wave of his hand, his robotic golden pinky catching the light and glimmering, "but on Pandora? Any planet Jack conquered? DAHL? The right information leaked to the wrong people could cause… complications. And when you come running to me to protect you, well…" He grinned wickedly. "There would be only so much I would- could do."

Mercy felt her confidence deflate.

"So I die," she said, sounding less sure than before. "So what?"

"Oh, Mercy," Vasquez said, standing and going over to her again. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, his beard tickling her skin as he grazed her knuckles. Her stomach churned over at the contact. "If you don't obey your superiors, well… other people could get hurt. It would be such a shame if, oh say, an accident occurred at your uncle's workplace, right?"

Mercy's eye widened and she tried to yank her hand back, but Vasquez held tight, his other arm encircling her waist and pulling her close, their hips touching. The shark had her now. It was only a matter of time.

"Say the word and he's dead. Say another word and he lives to see you walk down the aisle," Vasquez whispered, his lips close to her ear.

Mercy was silent and frozen. After a couple seconds he released her and went back to his desk.

"You're lying," Mercy stammered out.

"Oh?" He quirked a brow and pushed a speaker button on his desk, leaning over and saying, "Geoffrey, let's go ahead and take care of that… situation we spoke about earlier."

"Of course sir," came the unemotional voice from the other side, sounding tinny due to the frequency. "Say the word and it's done, sir."

Vasquez glanced to Mercy and winked.

"Geoffrey-" he began to say, but Mercy cut him off.

"Wait!" She said. Vasquez took his finger off the button and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head as he waited for the answer he already knew. The shark had pulled her under, down into the dark depths. She saw no way out, and only had to accept her fate. "I'll… I'll do it," she whispered, hugging her arms close to herself, feeling broken and small. She looked down to the tops of her black shiny stilettos.

Vasquez said nothing. She heard the chair creak and the speaker button buzz.

"Keep the subject alive," was all he said, and Mercy heard a grunt of agreement. The chair creaked again and she heard footsteps approach her. The tips of black shoes nearly touched hers and she followed them up to Vasquez, who was staring at her with a gentle smile but a fiery look in his eyes.

"Thought so," he said, gripping her chin in between his thumb and fore finger a moment. "Now, I have other matters to attend to, but I will see you tonight, at my place, to go over the necessary arrangements." He left her to stand there as he went back to his desk, telling his secretary through the comm to let someone named Rhys know he was ready for him. He looked back up to Mercy. "You're still here?" He asked in half surprise. "Run along- I've got another business deal to attend to."

Mercy stared sullenly at him a moment before adjusting her hair and tugging at the end of her shirt, walking to the door.

"Oh, and Mercedes," Vasquez called in that silver lined voice, using her full name. She stopped and half turned, looking over her shoulder at him. She was determined not to let the tears fall until she was in private, but they were already dotting her eyelashes like dew.

"Yes?" She asked in a quiet tone.

"A proper woman does as her superior tells her to. Wear that blue dress tonight," he said, and sat down, waving her off. Mercy studied him a moment before walking through the open doors.

She glanced to Rhys and Vaughn as she walked by them. Vaughn was talking to Rhys about a possible promotion, but she and Rhys shared a look and a nod of acknowledgement; she even offered an encouraging smile.

Mercy made it as far as the elevator doors before the tears came crashing down her cheeks.

Vasquez's new living quarters were vast and neat looking- the latter unexpected. Mercy had been summoned after working hours to visit her husband to-be to discuss the details of the wedding. Her uncle had wanted to attend, but Mercy persuaded him to stay behind. She was an adult now, and could negotiate things herself, even if either outcome didn't look too appetising.

Mercy had been led in by some little cleaning robot to the main living room and told that Vasquez was on an important call but would see to her soon. So she was wandering around the room in that little blue dress that she had been told to wear, her hair down and straightened, and new makeup applied after she had cried it all off the first time. She was standing by the window, looking down at Pandora. From here it almost looked beautiful, with a thin layer of skin that counted as an atmosphere. The planet was practically waterless, but the blue hue by the atmosphere gave the surface some regality. Something it didn't have with its terrifying creatures and ruthless people. Mercy shuddered at the thought of bandits and psychos- she couldn't imagine ever settling down with some Pandoran.

Yet she couldn't fathom why she was settling down with someone who may actually be worse than Pandoran scum.

She could hear Vasquez somewhere, his voice droning on and on though his words were incoherent. She tried to lie to herself, tell herself that it was comforting, hearing someone else through the walls of the rooms and know she was not alone. But the closer his voice got the more tense she felt.

"Ah, there you are," she heard from the other end of the room, and turned to see Vasquez standing in one of the doorways, still dressed in his sharp tailored suit.

Silently she nodded; a greeting.

"Do you like the view?" He asked, moving closer, his hands going to her forearms and turning her so she was nestled against him and both were facing the window, his lips right by her ear. "You should see the window in the bedroom. But don't worry- the glass can be made one sided."

Mercy repressed a shudder and stepped out of his embrace, saying, "you wanted to talk about the wedding plans?"

"Yes," Vasquez responded, unfazed by her lack of affection and wandering over to the coffee table sitting in the center of the room, picking up a bottle of red wine and pouring it into two glasses that shone beside it. He took a place on the loveseat and held a glass out to her. "You and I have much to glance over, and your uncle offered to help as well. Have a seat; have a drink."

Obediently, Mercy sauntered over and took the glass of wine, raising it to her lips. God she needed alcohol, and badly. She hadn't had any in awhile.

"I'm glad you've decided to become my bride," Vasquez said, his fingertips glancing over her arm and gesturing to the space on the loveseat beside him. "If you hadn't, well… we know what would have happened to your last standing family member. This is a healthy thing- for all of us."

"Healthy," replied Mercy after she ended her long sip. She could chug the whole bottle at this point, with how stressed she felt. But the last thing she wanted to do was get drunk, especially around someone who could easily have her disrobed and tangled in his sheets the second alcohol could fully stop her from saying no. She was already going to be at that point soon, but if she could put it off she was somewhat happy. And, Mercy thought to herself, if she played her cards right she might be able to find a way out of this. She placed her glass of wine on the table for later.

"Exactly," crooned Vasquez, and he reached out to play with her hair. When she stiffened he frowned and withdrew his hand. "You'll have to get used to my touch sometime, darling. You're going to be feeling it a lot."

Mercy felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The man frightened her, he truly did. No one seemed to scare her as much as he, and she had been a tough cookie all her life. Perhaps it was how easily he had gotten her cornered, or perhaps it had to do with her uncle's life hanging in the balance, but even before that just seeing him around when he was middle management had given her a kind of jolt in her belly; a warning sign, a red flag.

"Now then," Vasquez said, "this is all a bit… unorthodox, but not unusual. We can schedule the wedding for, say, this weekend. With my name as the VP, we'll get the best deals and everything will be done in a timely fashion. And-" he nudged her a little, "I'll be giving everything to my secretary to do, so all you have to do is try on dresses and then relax from there."

"Sounds … easy," Mercy conceded, keeping her tone neutral. She settled back against the leather of the loveseat and crossed her legs, running her fingers through her hair as she became more relaxed. Praise God for alcohol. She felt more at ease now. She closed her eyes and let the good feeling spread.

"You know what it sounds like?" Vasquez said, his voice like velvet. Mercy heard the clink of a glass being put down on the table. He shifted in the spot next to her.

"Hmm…?" Mercy made the sound low in her throat, and felt something at the base of the couch, near her legs. Her eyes opened and he was standing above her, looking down longingly at the curve of her breasts beneath the blue dress and his fingers skimming her smooth thigh.

"Cause for celebration," came the growled answer and before Mercy could think she was on her back on the loveseat, and he was loosening his tie. She propped herself up on her elbows, huffing some of her bangs from her eyes.

"Wait, what?" Was all she could get out.

"Come on, Mercedes," Vasquez said, gripping her thigh and staring down at her with a gruesome grin as he got one knee on the leather surface of the couch, climbing over her. He used his other knee to pry her legs apart and placed one hand by her waist and the other by her head, leaning over her. "Don't you think we should have some fun? It's warranted- we've both been working hard. This is our treat." His fingers dotted the edge of her dress and she jolted a little against him. He laughed at her. "Ticklish? Timid, maybe?" His hand took hers and guided it up his thigh and hip and placed it on his neck. "Don't worry- I'll be nice." He smirked and a mischievous look gleamed in his amber eyes. "If only until your clothes come off."

"Don't you think…" Mercy said, her voice trailing off when he began kissing down her jawline and neck, lowering himself to lay atop her. When his hips touched hers she felt electricity jolt up through her. She found the courage to speak again. "Don't you think we should wait? Until our wedding night?"

A low growl was what passed for an answer as he roamed wherever he wanted to. Finally his face came back into view and he was cradling her in his arms, deft fingers sliding over the zipper along her back and bringing it apart.

"Where's the fun in that?" He asked her, and kissed her lips.

"Vasquez-" She began to protest.

"Call me Hugo," was the interrupting response. She felt the grip of her dress loosen as he worked the fabric down. "And get used to the name, babe. You'll be screaming it all night."