Okay, so this is my first fanfic. In case you're wondering – yeah it IS canon, and contains a few canon characters, but the original heroes don't appear – or at least, they aren't the main characters (heheh).

I'm doing this mainly out of boredom, and though I'm not the best writer that ever existed, I don't write purely for fun – I try to add some professionalism in there, yanno, make it fun for the readers too,

Enjoy, and please review!

"Aguilla, take the escape pod!"

"What! No! Either neither of us go down, or we both do!"

"LISTEN TO ME, little brother!" – BOOM! – "There isn't much time! We're going down, whether you like it or not. There's only enough room for one of us in the pod, and I'm telling you, you're getting in it."

"I won't! Together, remember?"

Silence.

"…Times change."

A noise - like someone being locked in an iron grasp, followed by several protesting profanities - sounded from the recorder. Aquilla sighed morosely.

"You always were the favourite, huh?"

Aquilla remembered being fastened down into the pod by his older brother, struggling helplessly against his sibling's grip and the infuriatingly secure seatbelts as he was granted salvation. And his saviour was granted doom.

"Just don't make it in vain, hm? Survive, brother. Live a good life. But before you go, take this."

Aquilla inhaled sharply and terminated the ECHO replay with the touch of a button. He unfolded his legs from the meditative position he had been seated in and stood, picking up the gadget from the crusty, parched earth and bagging it. The memories of the crash – or rather, the terrifying descent – were all too clear in the fugitive's head.

"Claptrap." Aquilla now addressed the curious little orange robot at his feet, which gazed up at him through its artificial retina. "At your service, sir!" It said mechanically. Aquilla sighed. He had never had any love for robots. Especially talking ones. "How long ago did you say you saw the ship fly overhead?"

"Precisely 14.5892 hours ago, mister." It answered promptly, pointing helpfully to where the rapidly falling ship had soared through the sky all those hours ago. Aguilla could imagine all too well the rusty, stolen spacecraft, its defunct left thruster spewing plasma as it spiralled, out of control, toward the ground.

"If that's where it is, that's where I'm headed." The warrior muttered resolutely, his hand reaching for the pistol in its holster on his left thigh: The most recent – and most likely, final – gift he would receive from his only sibling. It was his family's heirloom, granted to the eldest son by his father for generations. But Aguilla did not feel proud. He felt as if he had betrayed his ancestors, simply by owning the weapon. It had meant to be his brother's.

"Uh, sir? You're bleeding from several wounds. May I suggest Dr. Zed, the very best – and only – doctor in Fyrestone? If you so wish, I shall take you to him immediately." The claptrap suggested, interrupted the man's reverie.

Barely glancing at the robot, Aguilla replied, "Fine", scarcely noticing the cuts and bruises the pod crash had given him. Following the claptrap, pacing across the sand behind the robot's whirring wheels, he crossed Fyrestone's main road, a simple, granite thing, which saw barely any activity, leaving the plastered billboard, which he had meditated near, behind him.

He turned right around a clump of piled trash, following the robot's dust-churned wake, to a makeshift gate, complete with control panel. The claptrap tapped at the buttons briefly, inputting some sort of password, and after a second the gate rose steadily. Aguilla ducked past it as it lifted, and took his first good look at Fyrestone.

The outskirts were grungy and unkempt, with many bunker-looking buildings with a crude, shanty-like feel to them. Holes and such had been patched with unfitting sheets of corrugated tin, and the windows, which were circular and small, were cracked and grimy. Aguilla wrinkled his nose at the place. He'd never exactly lived in luxury, but his first imitation of Pandora was something along the lines of trash heap.

Curious residents, some seated on tattered leather seats of their concrete verandas, others from behind their filthy windows, cast Aguilla questioning glances as he passed, still following the claptrap. Visitors were few and far between for the small settlement, and some shook their heads, not wanting their hard, miserable life to be bestowed on others.

The newcomer did his best to ignore the townspeople, and instead concentrated on his path forward. The pair – mecha and man – turned sharply, opening up a whole new area of the settlement. Though it appeared slightly more polished, it was no less rudimentary. There were also far fewer buildings, yet they were quite a bit larger. No living beings could be seen from the street, besides Aguilla himself, and the only activity came what appeared to be some sort of cleaning droid.

Not that it was doing a good job. Above and beyond the buildings was a massive trash mound, reeking strongly even from where the human stood. The pair paused only briefly before the claptrap led Aguilla toward the centremost structure – if it could be called such – and called out. "Dr. Zed! We have a patient who requires your assistance!" At fairly high volume.

After a moment, the garage-like door began to rise, and Aguilla got his first glimpse of Dr. Zed.