Winger hadn't been deputy long, but he knew he would most likely die as the Deputy of Lynchwood. He had been deputized at gunpoint, he was one of the few people who had lived in New Haven before it was converted into Lynchwood, and the sheriff wanted someone who knew the area by her side. He was not thrilled having to stay clsoe to Hyperion, but if it kept him alive so be it. His only concern was his only family member still alive was his nephew, who was out in the desert somewhere. He had run off when New Haven was attacked, and he hadn't heard from him since.
"Winger, what's got you staring off into space like that?" asked one of the marshalls.
"My nephew, Lawson." Winger sighed. "They just started rebuilding this town, but I still haven't seen him. I'm all he has left."
"Then it sound's like we'd better mount up and find him." snapped the voice of the female sheriff.
Winger was surprised, from what he had seen of the sheriff she didn't seem like the type to save a life. Especially since she had taken part in destroying this town. He grunted as he hoisted himself off the ground. "There's an old farm, we'll have to follow the train back to the Dust until we hit an old rock formation. That's where he used to live before the Lance attacked New Haven when the Vault was opened. They killed his folks so he moved in with me. That's where we should check first."
"Why didn't you check there already?" the sheriff barked.
"I wasn't really risking to leave without talking to you. And I didn't know how to approach you about it." Winger sighed.
"Scared of me Deputy?"
"Yes ma'am." Winger nodded.
"You, whatever your name is." the sheriff growled at the marshall who had been standing nearby. "You make sure the construction continues. I want that clinic's walls put up before I get back. Winger you have a skag to ride, right?"
"Yes ma'am." Winger replied as he followed her to the outskirts of town.
"Family is an important thing," the sheriff sighed as she adjusted herself in the saddle of her skag, "you should have told me about your nephew."
"You didn't seem like the caring type, going from my first impression I mean." Winger chuckled nervously.
"Because of what I did to this town? I'll admit it wasn't a good introduction. I was hired to do a job. And I did it. I never go back on my word, even if it goes against my beliefs."
"So Sheriff,"
"Nisha, when we're alone you can call me by my first name."
"Erm, Nisha, anyone who hasn't joined your posse is going to become a bandit." Winger explained.
"Good, after all the innocent people I had to butcher, I need people who I can kill without a second thought." Nisha yawned.
"What?" Winger gasped.
"I dealt with a lot of shit on Elphis. Killing is a way to cope. The one person I had to talk my problems with vanished after the job was done." Nisha snapped. "I'm not going to kill them myself. There is a reason I called this place Lynchwood. Criminals will be hung, break a law and they get the gallows."
"I see," Winger sighed. "Theres the outcropping, head east from here."
"Winger, you're a kind person arent' you?" the sheriff laughed suddenly.
"I guess. Why?"
"I've got a good cop to balance out my bad attitude." Nisha laughed.
Lawson had been in this position before. When the Crimson Lance attacked New Haven his parents had him hide in their cellar that was under their toolshed, and the Lance killed his unarmed parents. Afterwards he had gone into a cycle until his uncle had found him. He would wake up before the sun rose, tend to the bladeflower crops, make sure the fences were up still, collect water, then go inside for a brief lunch. After a meal of molded bread, he would start planting new rows of crops until the sun set.
After Winger brought him to New Haven, he was able to regain most of his sanity. He just wan't able to maintain that sanity when he saw anyone in Crimson Lance. It was his trigger, and it always made him dig. Winger never could understand why, but he always dug when he was reliving the events of the past.
When New Haven was attacked, Lawson didn't even wait to be told to run. He took off towards the train tracks and ran until he made it back to his old home and locked himself in the the cellar. This time he didn't come out. He just stayed in the corner of his cellar, shovel within reach. Four days, of isolation, of silence. He still ate, but the food was long since spoiled, and was making him sick.
Occasionally thoughts of his uncle crossed his mind, but he couldn't move. The combination of terror and illness made it painful to move. When he heard voices outside he feebly attempted to grab his shovel, but fell to the ground, spilling what little water he had over himself.
"Hear that?" he heard a woman say outside the door.
"Lawson are you in there?" shouted the voice of his uncle.
"Uncle Winger..." he groaned.
"Get away from the door!" shouted the woman.
The sound of a gunshot echoed in the cellar and the door flew open. The woman who entered was unfamiliar to him, but the large man followed caused him to smile weakly.
"I hid like I did back with the Lance." Lawson muttered weakly.
"Yeah you did Son. You were smart." Winger sighed in relief.
"Winger, he's burning up!"
"The food tasted funny..." Lawson laughed.
"The clinic isn't finished, what are we going to do?" Winger gasped in shock.
"Take him inside, then look for whatever medicine is in there." the woman ordered.
"Nisha,"
"Do it, I'm going to get him water!"
Winger sighed into the glass of whiskey he had in his hands. He still hadn't told Lawson the truth about Nisha. After they had found him three months ago, he treated her like she was a saint. He couldn't tell his nephew that the woman who had saved his life had been part of the attack. All he knew was that Hyperion had come and purged the town of "bandits" leaving the marshalls to get rid of anyone who was missed.
"How foolish can you be at the age of sixteen?" Nisha grimly joked.
"I can't tell him anything about what happened." Winger muttered.
"Then don't. He has a way of distracting himself, he buries anyone who has fallen from their rope. He feels like he's helping. Once he's a man I'll let him join up, maybe deputize him and let you retire. He enjoys my methods."
"He's not stable." growled the deputy.
"I know, it was a joke." the sheriff grumbled pouring herself a glass of whiskey.
Winger didn't care that she drank what he paid for in his own home. She had saved the only family he had left on Pandora. She could do whatever she damn well pleased as far as he was concerned.
"You hear that Jack found a signs of a new vault?" Nisha yawned.
"Boyfriend needs more Eridium now, doesn't he?" Winger chuckled.
"Yeah, and with the news of a Vault, that's going to bring Vault Hunters. Jack said he was going to use 'em to his advantage. Use some as test subjects for Slag, kill the others. Maybe he'll get some to fight the Raiders." Nisha groaned as she sank into the cushioned chair next to Winger's personal bar. "Damn this chair is nice."
"What do we do if the Vault Hunters come here and make a mess of things?"
The sheriff looked at her deputy, annoyance in her eyes. "Seriously? We'll lynch 'em, just like any other criminal."
"If they ever come here, I want Lawson to be safe."
"You think I don't? The kid is like the little brother I always wanted. I don't want to lose him. Do you know where I go when I'm not in my office or here talking to you? I'm fixing that farmhouse. Making sure that if he runs there again, he won't poison himself."
Winger sighed in relief, he was glad the sheriff trusted him enough to confide her feelings in him. He hoped he could maintain this faux family with Nisha and Lawson, for as long as Pandora would allow him to keep living.
When Lawson came back from his surprise vacation in his old farmhouse, the town he had grown to love was different. More crimes were being commited, graffitti tags all over the buildings, more and more thefts and murders. He was shocked the sheriff had let things fall apart. He figured she was giving them a false sense of security, but when he entered her office, he saw somber faces all around.
Sitting on Nisha's desk was her badge, her gun, and her hat. It took a moment for Lawson to realise what it all meant, and when he connected the dots, he snapped. He sprinted out the door, and away from the memories. He didn't get far before he was stopped by a big bruiser, with a shotgun, and a shovel.
"Where'd you get that?" Lawson shouted.
"The graveyard. It was left lying out in the dust so I took it." laughed the brute.
"Give it to me, it's mine!"
"Finders keepers, losers die!" laughed the bandit as he shot at Lawson.
The teen rolled to the side, but still getting hit by a few pellets from the shell. The brute dropped the shovel and was advancing towards him, Lawson gritted his teeth as he shoved the crate he had hidden behind towards the criminal and then ran towards his shovel.
"All right little one, time to die!" shouted the bruiser as he began to fire off more shots.
Lawson grabbed his shovel and hid in an alleyway nearby, trying to silence his breathing as the bandit followed him. When he heard the brute's footsteps approaching, he gripped his tool in both hands, and prepared to lunge forward. The bruiser came around the corner and had the head of the shovel shoved into his sternum. As blood poured from the stab wound and the bandit screamed in pain, Lawson began to laugh. He pulled his shovel out of the bruiser's chest and marched back to the sheriff's office.
It had been two years since he had his conversation with Nisha about the Vault Hunters. One year since he been made Sheriff of Lynchwood, and Lawson became Deputy. Lawson still never learned the truth about New Haven's fall and he still wasn't the same.
Ever since he learned of Nisha's death at the hands of the Vault Hunters, Lawson had become cold blooded, and killed bandits on sight. No judge or jury, just execution. The Vault Hunters had shown no desire to kill everyone like Jack led them to believe. And Nisha knew they would be a challenge, she still longed for action, that was why she let them commit all those crimes. She had wanted to see the action she dealt with on Elphis, and ended up dying. Winger ran a finger over the badge he wore that once belonged to Nisha as his thoughts came back to his unstable nephew.
Lawson didn't have a distraction anymore. He killed for fun, not to escape his torturous thoughts of the past. He doesn't dig graves with that shovel anymore, he prepares corpses to fill graves. Winger lost the his nephew, what he saw now was a bad cop to counteract his order he was trying to create. His deputy had adopted the style Nisha had when she was sheriff, a black duster over his once white vest now browned by the wind and sands, chocolate leather boots with steel-toes and spurs, a holster to carry his revolver on his belt, and the black hat. His sand brown hair was spiked under his hat, and his face was hidden by his growing beard that he refused to shave.
Winger looked at Lawson through the one way mirror, staring at him. He had put his deputy in there to calm down, but it onlt made him sit still. He had his shovel sitting on the table in front of him, waiting. Winger could tell Lawson knew he was there.
"When are you going to stop doing as you please and start taking orders Lawson?" Winger barker through the intercom.
Lawson laughed as he tilted his chair back and kicked up his feet on the table. "When I kill the sons of bitches that killed Nisha."