A/N: So like, I was originally posting this on AO3, but I really don't feel good about hosting my work on a site with such amoral policies about what they host, especially in regards to RPF. So I'm moving this here. I used to use this site when I was a kid and hopefully the etiquette hasn't changed?
My updates tend to be slow but they will keep coming. 3 (also if you comment, please, please use they/them pronouns for Zer0. We were told Zer0 was going to use they/them, and then Anthony Burch "forgot" and Gearbox chickened out, but nonbinary they/them Zer0 is really important to me.)
Zer0 told themself it was a dry period. They couldn't have experienced all Pandora had to offer- not in only three years. If they were patient the planet would provide again.
They'd been telling themself this for nearly the past year.
Pandora had started out with so much promise. Zer0 had come looking for a single, worthwhile challenge, and Pandora gave them the Vault: an ancient Eridian relic of immense power, containing a living superweapon, and coveted by one of the most powerful corporations in the galaxy.
It was more than they'd dared hope for- and yet, their chance to test their skills didn't end with the Warrior's demise. Pandora was more generous than that, unforgiving and deadly in all the right ways, a consistent source of the bloodshed they coveted.
At least, it had been. Now they were driving out to some remote bandit camp in the middle of the Dead Sands, on another mission to wipe out yet another ragtag crew of raiders.
Boredom was their curse. It always caught up to them in the end.
They tried hard to fight it, taking every job they possibly could, keeping themself constantly occupied. Sanctuary had become a one-stop-shop for any Pandoran in need of help, as was only natural for the home of multiple renowned Vault hunters. The bounty board in town square never lacked for new postings.
Sometimes they'd get lucky, and something unexpected would happen. Like the chance meeting that later brought them to the Vault of the Traveler. More often they found themself wasting their talents. Most bounty board jobs fell into the categories of "kill this bandit" or "find this thing for me" or "scout out this area". Enough to give Zer0 something to do, but not enough to offer them a sense of fulfillment.
They still took those jobs, of course- killing a few bandits was better than doing nothing, and they needed the money.
It was money that brought Zer0 to the Dead Sands today. A message from the administrator of the newly resettled Lynchwood: a bandit encampment was raiding the town and a sizable reward had been promised to whoever cleared them out. Boring, but necessary. The sort of job they'd done hundreds of times.
Zer0 reached their destination as the sun was beginning to set, parking their runner far enough away to avoid detection. A ten minute walk brought them to an outcrop that overlooked the camp.
The sight was unimpressive. The camp had been built onto the burnt-out remains of some old Dahl establishment. The bandits had utilized the crumbling concrete walls as bases for a pair of solid-looking shacks, and the old water tower seemed to still be in order. The only original construction was three large tents and an incomplete watchtower. Clearly, they hadn't been living here long. Probably chased out of their old lodgings, maybe outcasts from a larger clan. That would explain the lack of clan symbols or colors. It was a good sign for Lynchwood, no greater force to make an example out of the town after Zer0's work was finished.
Crouching, they peered through the scope of their sniper rifle, assessing their foes. A pair of goliaths congregated in the shadow of the water tower, on the near-side of the camp. Those two were probably the most dangerous, but that title held little value to Zer0. Another fifteen or so run-of-the-mill bandits idly meandered throughout the camp.
There was no actual risk, nothing to calculate. It would be a massacre, and they might as well get it over with.
They lined up a shot.
A bang, the first goliath fell, and bandits were instantly sent into a panicked frenzy as they searched for the culprit- giving Zer0 ample time to pick out a few more targets. The second goliath took two shots in rapid succession, the first hit his helm, its impact enough to induce a second or two of rage before their second bullet brought him down. They instantly regretted it. It might have been more fun to just watch him tear apart the entire camp, and then take him down. Recently they'd let the act of killing become so perfunctory- they could at least try to have fun with it, even if it was painfully easy. Still, there were fifteen bandits left, one of them might do something unexpected.
With another unthinking pull of the trigger, the count changed to fourteen.
Zer0's fourth victim must have sighted the last rays of sun glinting off their helm. He pointed in their direction. Their bullet exploded through his skull before he could speak, but the others had gotten the message, taking cover and shooting blindly in their direction.
Bullets whizzed past, ricocheting off the rock face harmlessly.
This couldn't last long, ammo would run dry before anything broke through Zer0's shield- if they ever even hit them. So far, no bullets came close.
Waiting their foes out would be easy, they could pick off anyone foolish enough to expose their heads, one by one. Tedious work for an already tedious mission. Better to get it over with.
Zer0 leapt down from their perch, drawing their sword.
Naturally, it was a bloodbath. Even on easy jobs like this, there was a certain amount of satisfaction that came with some good old-fashioned ultraviolence. Not enough to be rewarding, but still, a moment's entertainment.
"Are there any left / Who wish to challenge my blade? / Or have you all died?" Zer0 kicked aside a severed head. It rolled a few feet, leaving a trail of dripping blood.
No response.
Sighing, they sheathed their sword.
There might be loot, at least. Lynchwood was a fairly wealthy town, and its administrator had never requested that Zer0 recover their stolen goods. Finders keepers and all that.
They turned to enter the nearest tent.
And were stopped with an earsplitting bang.
White filled their vision.
Their head buzzed.
For half a second Zer0 stumbled, blinking. Their hand found their pistol and they fired off a few blind shots at their surroundings.
The gunshots were muted.
So was the sound of the return fire. A notification came up on their HUD, text still clear against the white of their vision, "SHOCK DAMAGE: Shield at 0%. Find cover to recharge".
They'd barely processed the words when they were met with the familiar burning pain of a bullet, tearing through their abdomen.
"Shit."
Did they miss a bandit?
Even near-blinded, Zer0 had enough memory of their surroundings to pinpoint the dumpster, by the shack to their left. They managed to half-dive, half-fall behind it. They were rapidly recovering from the flashbang's effects, but white spots burned into their vision.
Maybe a moment more and they'd be able to see enough to confidently fight back. More likely they'd be shot dead before then. They leaned around the side of the dumpster, scanning the camp for their opponent.
Nothing.
Since when were bandits so sneaky?
An icy sting bit into the side of their neck. They instinctively swatted at it, yanking out a deeply embedded dart.
"You've become careless, assassin." A distorted, distant-sounding voice spoke.
"So it seems." Activating Decepti0n, they left their hologram behind and retreated. They just needed to get their bearings. Find their target.
The buzzing in their head was too loud, they couldn't tell which direction the voice had come from.
Decepti0n bypassed the lingering effects of the flashbang, sending the image straight to their neural implants. It picked up not one, but four opponents:
A sniper, using the same post Zer0 had.
A thin figure twenty feet in front of them.
Another lurking between tents in their periphery.
And the last, rapidly closing in from their back.
Zer0 swung around, expecting to catch the flanker by surprise.
"You're going to need some new tricks." A woman spoke now. Pain pierced through Zer0's chest before they could pull the trigger. "Cloaking tech is kind of old hat."
Zer0 yanked themself away in a spray of blood and fired at her, but she'd already vanished. Their sensor picked her up a second time, behind them again, before every Decepti0n-marked form became a pixelated blur, the entire overlay vanishing half a heartbeat later. Their right arm went limp with it. A headache like needles through their skull.
"Not even prepared for a mini-EMP?" the woman laughed. "For someone so decked out in tech, you're pretty behind the times."
Zer0 bounded forward, anticipating her attack from behind- not fast enough.
Her blade sliced them open, shoulder blade to hip. They let out a gasping cry, stumbling for a few steps.
There were more gunshots.
More pain. More bleeding. Too much bleeding.
Each stride felt like it would send them plunging to the ground, but somehow, they managed to run.
"Really, now, Zer0? Running away isn't like you." It was the first voice again. They heard it clearly now, it was close.
The camp dropped off at a steep slope, overlooking miles of empty desert. The tell-tale beeping of a grenade made the decision for them.
What was supposed to be a graceful slide to the bottom turned to a tumble when their leg gave out, earning Zer0 a cracked helmet and another handful of wounds. They got back to their feet and kept running, gunshots following them. If more bullets connected, Zer0 didn't feel them.
They only dared stop once the camp had faded into the horizon. Only long enough to deal with their injuries. It was sloppy work- their right arm was still inoperable, and they didn't have time to be thorough.
Their single, emergency insta-health wasn't enough to close their wounds, but enough to stave off death, at least for a while. Nothing else to do but clumsily bandage the most dire of their wounds before continuing on, slower now. The adrenaline had faded, replaced by exhaustion and more pain. Their body screamed at them to give up with every step. Tempting, but stubbornness drove them on.
Now that they seemed to be clear of the enemy, they finally had a chance to try to piece together what happened.
The attackers knew Zer0. They'd been able to see through their cloak, even were prepared to disable their cybernetic enhancements. How could they even know about those? No one alive should have any idea what lay under their suit.
Zer0 had faced enemies who were prepared for their tricks, but they couldn't remember a time that things got so far outside their control. They'd panicked. They never panicked.
And they'd never been defeated without being able to so much as lay a single scratch on their opponent.
These had to be fellow professionals. Specialists. Assassins who put a great deal of time and forethought into their work.
Their runner would be watched.
As would the Catch-a-Ride.
And the fast travel.
Still limping, they shakily pulled their ECHO device from their belt. A large crack ran across the screen and on through the shell. A result of their fall down the slope. Pressing the various buttons did nothing.
It had been a foolish notion in the first place. Professionals would track ECHO signals. Calling for help would be a big, flashing target over their position.
Regardless, chances of survival looked bad, even if their mysterious assailants didn't catch up. Pandora had a way of ridding itself of the weak and alone. They wouldn't find an ally in this remote corner of the Dead Sands. At best it could be said to be bandit country, but bandits were few and far between. Mostly, it was empty desert.
The only two friendly establishments in the region were Ellie's Garage and Lynchwood. Both too far to reach on foot.
They could hope for a miracle, but they didn't place much faith in those. Instead, they reflected on their options:
Rest and regain their strength, only for their attackers to hunt them down again. Die.
Move. Encounter hungry Pandoran wildlife and/or bandits. Die.
Move. Somehow manage to avoid hungry Pandoran wildlife and/or bandits. Succumb to exposure. Die.
Move. Miraculously avoid becoming dinner, while somehow surviving the elements. Succumb to blood loss and/or infection and/or organ failure. Die.
Moving was their best chance to delay death the longest, at least. Better to go down doing something that resembled fighting, anyway.
It stormed.
Of course it stormed.
The Dead Sands, as its name suggested, had been locked in a drought for years, but when Zer0 was at their most desperate, its skies finally broke open. A cold, ruthless downpour.
How very like Pandora.
The sands in this part were more of a mix of clay and silt than the granular rock of other deserts. It turned to thick mud, sucking at their boots and resisting each of their steps.
Zer0 slipped twice. The second time they simply lay in the rain for a while, too exhausted to move. They didn't remember getting back on their feet, but an hour later they found themself trudging forward again.
The storm ran its course in some hours, only to be replaced by the blistering midday sun.
How long had they even been walking? Their mind was too foggy to both think and keep moving forward. They couldn't let themself stop.
At first, the sun's warmth was a relief, probably saving them from hypothermia. Then it became a discomfort. Then a pain.
It wasn't much longer before heat stroke rose to the top of Zer0's list of most likely deaths.
Their suit wasn't helping. The armor was too thick, the material too dark to be wearing in the desert. It was too much effort to take off and keep walking. They needed to keep walking. They weren't sure why anymore, there was no end goal here. Ahead looked the same as behind. As much as they could see of ahead, at least. Their vision was blurring, clouding over. A white fog settling over the landscape.
Their steps were turning more and more into drunken stumbles.
They didn't remember their knees finally buckling under them. At one point they were walking, then they were on the ground.
They'd fully lost track of how long they'd walked for, there was no way of telling where they even were. All they knew was that they were tired and everything hurt. They needed to rest.
Some part of them knew they wouldn't rise again. They'd given up. It was hardly the way they expected to go out.
Maybe, if they had the energy, they would feel embarrassed about it.