It felt like a million fists had collided with Mordecai's chest as he listened to everything playing out over the Echo. One after the other, his team had been taken, and Jack's snarling voice, announcing his supposed victory, didn't make any of this any better.

Mordecai didn't have time to come to terms with what just happened. They were still racing against the clock, and the task was going to be even more difficult with two of their senior members gone. He needed to keep the mission going, to keep the Vault Hunters out in the field, not only because he needed the space but because they still had a job to do.

Roland dead and Lilith taken... His first thought was to sneak off and sulk once the others were gone, to find some unfortunate bandits to take his frustrations out on. Then he remembered there was no one waiting in his room for him, no one on the roof ready to commit murder alongside him. No bird to squawk on his entry to try and cheer him up. It was just him and Brick.

Brick.

He only realized now how quiet the Crimson Raider HQ had become. He'd become so engrossed in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed Brick leaving. And Brick was anything but stealthy.

He grabbed his rifle and hopped the small wall of the balcony, landing roughly on the ground with a grunt before quickly surveying the surrounding area. There, he saw the berserker's retreating back heading right towards the Fast Travel. Mordecai had very little time to get to him before he was whisked away to...

... shit.

The hunter dug in his heels and sprinted after him, pushing his way past the civilians gathering in the centre of town to mourn. The news was already over the radio, being spread by that Hellquist asshole.

He turned the corner to find him still there. Mordecai breathed a sigh of relief and lunged for his arm, pulling it away from those infernal buttons.

"Brick, no!"

"Get out of my way, Mordecai!" Brick tried to shake him off, his eyes red with both fury and tears that he refused to let fall. But Mordecai's grip held fast, the large arm physically trapped against his person. Not the best idea, since he knew he was no match for him in terms of strength. It wouldn't be long before Brick freed himself eventually. Hopefully, Mordecai could talk some sense into him by then. He couldn't blame him for his anger either; it was understandable, though not to the depths Brick's rage tended to dip into.

"I know where you're going and I'm not gonna let you."

Brick audibly scoffed at that. Let him? Who did Mordy think he was? He didn't have the brawn to back up his words and the hunter knew that as well.

With a snarl, his palm wrapped around Mordecai's chest and slammed him into the nearest wall. How could he be so calm at a time like this? How could he just stand there and not do anything about the loss of their friends?

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of my way, Mordy. Before you get hurt."

But there was more than just physical pain; Mordecai's chest continued to ache from the sound of that single gunshot, replaying over and over again in his mind. He would have gone out there himself and wreaked havoc on anything Hyperion that crossed his path, regardless of whether that's what Roland would have wanted. But he had more than himself to think about now. The other six Vault Hunters were in need of guidance and he wasn't about to let them down when everything was in disarray.

"Brick... stop..." His gloved fingers clawed at the larger man's wrist as he felt his ribs starting to bruise. Any tighter and they'd pop under Brick's touch. They likely already would if he was anyone else.

"I said don't get in my way."

This close, the tears in Brick's eyes were unmistakable. It was the mutual loss of their respective animal companions that had bonded them in a way, and the loss of their friends was doing the same. They shouldn't be on opposite sides of this.

"And I said... you ain't going..."

It was a risk to reach for his revolver, a risk to do so while in a precarious position, but he knew of no other way to stop the hulking brute. He was beyond words.

"Don't," Brick ordered through gritted teeth, his eyes darting to Mordecai's retreating hand. He wouldn't dare… would he?

"You ain't giving me much choice."

He knew what was coming. He also knew what it would do to Brick afterward.

Stars splintered into his vision as the mighty fist met his face and he was sure he heard his nose break. As he fell, his limbs felt entirely disconnected from the rest of his body. Paralyzed with pain, he watched the retreating back of his friend as the Fast Travel broke him down into glowing blue molecules and sucked him into the realm of the Echonet. Then there was nothing but the grey concrete floor and the walls covered in torn posters. The Crimson Raider logo stared down at him, judging him for his failure. He was going to lose another member of the team if he didn't get off his ass and do something. Yet he couldn't convince his body to do so and the lack of control was starting to get on his nerves.

Come on, soldier. Time to get up.

Go away, Roland. This ain't boot camp.

No, but sticking to a schedule will get more done around here.

In case you ain't figured out by now, I ain't a team player.

Maybe. But you will be.

"Fuck... you..." His body and mind pieced themselves back together with that awful memory, how smug Roland had looked back in New Haven as if he'd known all along how this would play out. If only he'd had the foresight not to be just such a fucking goody-goody too, then maybe he wouldn't have a sucking chest wound…

The sound of the people outside Pierce Station returned to his ears as he pushed himself to his shaky feet. He couldn't be sure how much time had actually passed, lying there in a daze, but the Fast Travel still felt warm. It couldn't have been very long.

What he wouldn't do to make this stop. To grab Brick by the arms and be the one to take the anger out of his eyes. But no matter how many times he mulled the situation over in his mind, he knew there would be no difference. All those long nights talking - and not-talking - wouldn't change a thing. Nothing would bring Brick back except Brick and blood. But he didn't have the luxury of waiting this out. He could be dead by then or worse. He dialed up Thousand Cuts. Brick's home, but Mordecai knew that's not where he was heading.

"Come on, you stupid thing! Hurry up!" He slapped the machine a microsecond before it whisked away his digital DNA and spat it out on the other side. He almost slipped on the slick green decline, the ground wet with fresh rain. But that wasn't the only thing it was wet with. Just short of the entrance, he spotted an unconscious Rocko who looked like he'd gotten worse than Mordecai had. His helmet lay to one side of his head and there was a growing spot of blood leaking from his nose.

"Oy..." He hauled the bandit from the ground and propped him up against the nearest barrel, lightly slapping his face to rouse him to consciousness. A light groan told him that it was working. And that he wasn't dead.

"Brick did this to you?"

"All I did... was ask him how he was doin'... he bent my fuckin' helmet in… What the fuck happened to you..."

"Same." He didn't want to think about the throbbing pain in the side of his face or what he must look like. There would be time to heal bruises and swollen lumps later.

"Which way'd he go, Rocko?"

He raised his finger and pointed towards the direction of the turret and buildings lower down the rocky path.

Shit.

Thankfully, a few of the other bandits came by to see what was up and took Rocko off his hands. Good. Brick declared not caring for his Slabs, but he was sure Rocko was one of his favourites and wouldn't forgive himself for ending the life of his Second.

Down the hill and up into one of the higher buildings, Mordecai raised the scope of his rifle to his eye, searching for the hulking bruiser that was his friend. A distant yell and explosion brought his attention to the upper-most tier, right before the bridge that led straight to the Bunker. He swore under his breath; there was no way he was going to get up there in time to stop him.

Then he got the stupidest fucking idea ever.

"Are you sure you know how to fly this fucking thing?!"

"You told me to hurry!" The bandit was struggling to keep his grip on the stick as he flew the Buzzard straight towards the platform. It was dotted in the yellow metal of Loaders, their single red optics watching their approach. Good. That meant that Brick wasn't here yet. They just needed to dodge gunfire until then.

The bad news is that they were coming in too hot and Mordecai could feel his insides starting to reject the coffee he'd had for breakfast. Bailing was always an option, but he couldn't be sure he wouldn't roll right off the very edge to his death. Taking his chances with the Buzzard seemed like a much better option.

At least, that was before he heard an explosion going off below and to his right. He watched as a Loader arm sailed over the edge of the platform and into the distance. Brick hadn't been that far behind after all, and that meant if he didn't land soon, all of this would have been for nothing. The others turned their attention to this new source of conflict and followed the paved path downwards. That gave them a better chance of landing, but they were extremely short on time. Being this far up meant that Brick was that much closer to getting into the Core.

He said to hell with it and jumped the last ten feet to the platform before he unshouldered his rifle once more. He heard Brick's yells of fury, felt the ground quiver beneath every step as the berserker drove fist after fist into whatever stood before him. Mordecai never liked when Brick was like this. He couldn't be rationalized with, couldn't be subdued in any way other than waiting it out. He couldn't afford that kind of time.

"Brick!" he called out, the rifle trained against his shoulder as he peeked below the platform of the Bunker, the sun positioned just behind him. He was giving the hulking man one more chance to pull himself out of his fury and talk things out. A sliver of hope that he held onto nonetheless.

But when Brick whirled around, Mordecai saw nothing but bloodshot eyes and gritted teeth. There were streaks of grease on Brick's cheek and his knuckles were bloodied beneath the bandages that covered them. The black eye he had looked even darker and swollen, and there was a jagged piece of yellow metal sticking out of his shoulder, stale blood already scabbing around it.

This was not a man that could be talked down. This was not a man who had any intention of listening to what Mordecai had to say. And that left him with very little choice, a choice that stung him down to his core.

He whispered a Truxican prayer under his breath and pulled the trigger.

Brick snarled at the pain that burst through the side of his neck and clamped his hand down around the source. No blood. Just something small and feathery sticking out of his sweaty skin. His tongue slowly started to feel heavy as he tried to wrap his mind around the hunter's betrayal, around the fact that he was being shot at for doing the right thing. Didn't Mordecai get it? There was only one way to end this and that was through blood. Not negotiations and plans and tiptoeing around the loss they'd suffered. Brick had already lost so much and he was tired of standing around and waiting for plans to be made.

He crushed the dart between his large fingers and threw the offending projectile on the ground as he snarled a feral warning.

Mordecai knew to brace himself and readied another tranq. Of course it was going to take more than one to knock him out. He just thought he would have had more time before needing to ready another. Fingers plucked another and slipped it into the barrel with a smooth precision that didn't betray how fucking terrified he was of all of this going sideways.

Brick leaped at him with a mighty yell seconds before he fired, the colourful plumage sailing through the air and plunging itself into the thick chest meat of the man who was supposed to be his friend. Too late too late too late his mind screamed at him as Brick continued his momentum, the sight of the man's angry face filling his vision.

Brick was atop him with his large fingers wrapped in the red cloth that covered his body. He had the scrawny hunter off the ground and he ripped the gun clean from his hands, tossing it aside and over the edge. Mordecai would mourn the gun later, once he was sure he hadn't been reduced to a slab of Truxican ground meat.

He didn't waste any time trying to bargain with Brick and swung his boot clear into his chin. The kick whirled his head around, catching him on the scar already there. Mordecai swung another when he recovered, knowing that his attacks were doing nothing to stop him. But at least they might prolong the swinging of Brick's fist long enough for the second dart sticking out of Brick's chest to start taking effect.

Slowly, the fury started to die in Brick's eyes and an intoxicated grunt escaped him as he dropped to one knee first and then the other. His eyes started to roll into the back of his head, his grip loosening on Mordecai. That gave him enough time to roll out of the way before he was trapped under his large friend. Mordecai winced at the sound of Brick's cheek smacking against the pale white granite and rolled onto his back to catch a breather.

What a fucking day...

Rage. Heat. It boiled at his blood, reminded him of the man he'd left behind. The killer. The murderer. No one stood his path to stop him, anyone would learn the hard way what that meant.

The crow's shadow loomed, grew taller. It shed its feathers to reveal the skeletal structure beneath it. It released a shrill screech that made his ears bleed. It blacked out the sky, shrouded him in darkness and drowned out the sun's light. Brick could feel its judgmental pale gaze staring down at him, testing. Waiting. Daring him to make a move.

One step and it filled the air with a shrill screech that made his ears bleed. Blood, however, was a second skin for him. In fact, the warmth of it fueled him further as he made a grab for one featherless wing, determined to rip it clean from its socket.

A distant hum. The scream became blinding as it grew in volume and pitch. Flesh ripped and black ichor spilled out from the open wound. Tainted him, stained his skin, burned at his pores until it felt like he was on fire. Its beak opened wider and wider until he was sure its jaw had become dislocated, and even wider still, until the contents of its mouth were peeled so far back that there was nothing left of its face.

Brick woke with a start. His tongue felt heavy and an ache slowly grew beneath his eyes as he roused himself into the land of the conscious. The inside of his mouth tasted like blood and every inch of his body felt sore once he tried to sit up. Where the hell was he? He dug fingers against his eyes, rubbing away the sleep and trying to recall-

Oh god.

Images flitted through his mind: Mordecai's worried face, the dying scream of a Loader, he was running so, so far… Rocko…

He looked down at his bandaged aching fists, saw them covered in fresh bloodied bandages. The tang of rust in the air told him he was in his own room, within Slab headquarters. The sounds of Buzzards overhead gave him some solace that everything was... not gone to shit. Not more than it already had, anyway. Lilith and Roland...

Brick darted out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom where he promptly threw up. It burned his throat and roused tears in his eyes. He wished he could say they were out of sadness but the heat of his anger quickly dried them up. Roland: dead. Lilith: taken. And Mordecai...

"'bout time you woke up," the familiar drawl of his Second came from behind him. When he turned on his knees, he saw Rocko's swollen face and a plaster over his broken nose. There was no friendliness there, nor did he expect it.

"Rocko…"

Rocko scowled and spat into the far corner. There was a healthy dose of blood in the mix.

"What the fuck, boss?"

"You know how I get Rocko…" He sure did. All his Scabs did. But that didn't make the situation any better. He had no excuse for his actions.

"Apparently not. You walloped me good, I ain't about to let that grudge go 'til I pay you back." He folded his arms over her chest, chewing back on his smile. He knew a threat like that meant nothing to the Slab King. Yet Brick couldn't find it within himself to laugh at his jest.

"... Mordecai…?"

Rocko rolled his eyes and nodded to his left before disappearing, saying nothing more. Brick flushed the toilet and rinsed his mouth out in the sink, finding the need to freshen himself up for some reason before following.

Before he could get far, however, metal scraped against the doorway and renewed the pain in his shoulder. Brick swore under his breath and when he chanced a look in the mirror, he saw the jagged piece of Loader sticking out of his flesh.

"One of you idiots couldn't get this piece of shit out of me?!"

A quick venture down the stairs and he spotted a circling of his Scabs around a table. The bright red peeked through the crowd and he knew that Mordecai had been laid out, still unconscious. Worry plucked at Brick's chest and a hand drifted to his mouth in both shock and dismay. How could he have done this to one of his oldest friends? Mordecai had been there when he'd lost Dusty, had helped him sort out the mini-funeral he'd held for the pup and prepared the small paw that hung from the chain around his neck. Mordecai had been there for him when he believed he didn't need anyone else, when he was sure he could take out his sorrows by punching in a few faces and ripping skags apart.

And this was how Brick had chosen to repay him. He easily pushed his way through his men to gaze down at the beaten and bruised Truxican. His cheek was dark and swollen, almost to the point of disfiguring that narrow nose of his. One of the lenses of his goggles had been smashed out too - Brick was going to have to gift him a new one - and the small strip of leather holding his hair back and come undone. At least his chest continued to rise and fall, so that was a small glimmer of hope.

But boy was he going to be fucking pissed when he woke up.

"All of you get out of here. Don't you have something else to do?" he barked at his Slabs. They jolted, expecting to receive praise for their actions, for keeping one of his friends alive. Instead, they huffed and sulked and drifted out of the building to tend to other things. Likely to get some fresh beers in them to calm their nerves after the fright their boss had given them.

"... sorry. For running out like that. I didn't mean-" Brick dragged a chair closer and took a seat beside his friend. The apology was necessary yet his brain couldn't cobble together the right words. He'd never been really good at that.

Another wave of nausea hit, but he pushed it back. He could throw up later.

"... I'm stupid, alright. All I do is screw things up." He ran his hands over the short stubble atop his head, frustrated with himself that he would have to wait for Mordecai's tongue lashing instead of getting it over with. It would make him feel better, in a sense.

"I shoulda been helping you sort out shit. Instead, I had to go be a selfish asshole and all o'you had to suffer for it. Roland was right to send me away, and you shoulda left me out there."

"Maybe you're right," came a husky whisper from the table. Mordecai slowly turned his head,his neck still stiff and sore, to gaze up at the berserker with one pale eye.

"... how long've you been awake?" Brick asked, wondering just how much of his self-deprecation the hunter had heard.

"Ever since I heard you stormin' down those stairs. Ever since ya started bellyachin' about shit."

… okay, so all of it.

Mordecai's words soothed and stung at the same time, drew Brick's cracked lips into a thin line. He was thankful the hunter was awake, thankful that he wouldn't have to talk to the empty air anymore… but that didn't make his words any more welcome. Beneath the tough exterior, Brick had always taken things to heart. He'd never show it, how much it hurt, instead building up the man with the vicious smile to keep prying questions at bay. There had always been more important things to sort out than his feelings.

"You never think. You just... swing those dumb fists o'yours whenever you get pissed. And I'm honestly gettin' sick of it."

Brick lowered his head, ready to get out of the chair and walk away. He could take crabworms latching onto his arms and rakkhives spitting acid at him. His friend's words just dug too deep.

"Yeah… I get it. You want one of th'boys to drive you back?" He didn't dare to raise his head. He didn't want to see the look on Mordecai's face, the purple splotches on his tanned skin, the swelling of his cheekbone, the dried blood in the corner of his lip. He'd overstepped a line and the Raiders would be better off not having to watch their backs for the Slab King's bad mood. Worse yet, he'd broken a promise he'd made to himself years ago to never hurt one of his friends.

"... you really are dumb, y'know that?" A gloved hand came to rest on his scars, so small it barely covered the width of his forearm. It was easy to forget just how small Mordecai was when he carried the weight of so many things on his shoulders.

Brick looked up in confusion, blinking away the still-lingering fog of tranquilizer. Blue eyes met pale, searching for answers.

"What, you think I'm going to pull another Roland? That was some messed-up shit he pulled, and I'd been against it. I ain't about t'be down one man again." Mordecai sat up with a grunt and wobbled for a bit before he found his centre.

"Now help me get my ass back to Sanctuary so we can figure out how t'get the Vault Hunters back on th'right road." He slowly slid off the table, his arm extended to catch Brick on the shoulder for stability. Brick obliged the silent request and helped Mordecai to his feet as they hobbled to the front door. But not before he felt a clout to the back of his head.

"... I deserved that."

"Like fuck you did," Mordecai sulked, his mouth twisted to one side from his swollen cheek. "You're lucky I still had some tranqs leftover from Blood…"

"... and you're lucky I ain't chargin' you for bustin' up my Buzzard."

"Those scraps of garbage? They ain't worth the mud on th'bottom o'my boots. Let's call it even for you bustin' up my goggles."

The tension in the air diminished as they slowly made their way over the bridge and through the cluster of buildings back towards the Fast Travel. Brick was somewhat thankful for it, that they could pretend everything was alright between them for the time being while they dealt with the larger matter at hand. But he knew that once this was over, they needed to have a real talk about what had happened. By then, Mordecai's bruises would be gone, but the wariness would still be there in his eyes, when no one else would be looking.

"Hey… Mordecai?"

"Yeah?"

"... don't tell the others about this, alright?"

"You ain't gotta worry about that. Ain't any of their business anyhow."

That made Brick feel a little better as they continued to hobble through Thousand Cuts. It was slow going, despite the urgency of the situation.

"... ya know, this'd be a lot easier if ya'd let me carry you, Mordy."

"... don't make this weird, amigo."