Roland ducked to avoid the glass bottle that flew at his head. It smashed on the concrete wall behind him, splashing his back with the small amount of liquid still inside as the shattered pieces clattered onto the floor with the remains of the other four bottles he had dodged.

Angel stormed around their shared room, grabbing anything that wasn't nailed down and tossing it about the room. Things with no value, such as empty beer bottles, were lobbed at her brother, who stood near the doorway, calmly waiting for her to wear herself down. Hurricane Angel's path of destruction upheaved literally everything- the room was strewn with the debris of every possession of the twins, and she kicked through it to find more things to upset. Occasionally she would halt her angry stomping, stare at her brother, and scream some random string of profanities at him before continuing with her riot.

Roland knew that if he just waited it out in her sight, it would be over sooner. Leaving in the middle of her episode would just worsen the experience for everyone by an exponential magnitude. Already his sister's arm was sparking much less than when she had first began the tantrum about half an hour ago. As best as he could figure, there would be another ten minutes before she raged herself into a nap, which would give him about an hour of peace before she woke again, still angry but no longer interested in destroying their room. Not that his sister was predictable, but he had known her his entire life.

The door opened a crack and their mother's voice drifted into the room. "Angel-"

"Not now, Mom, I can't handle my stupid brother's life choices!"

Roland peeked out the slit in the door and mouthed "ten minutes" to his poor mother. There was a long sigh as the door slowly closed. Angel rushed across the room and menacingly placed her face inches from Roland's. "You are lucky I didn't tell her about this stupid fucking idea," she hissed. "You and that thing would be fucking dead."

"And you're lucky I told you," he replied calmly, unaffected by the violent glint in the opposing green eyes.

Angel shrieked and stormed back into the carnage, kicking clothes at the wall.

In ten minutes, as predicted, Roland was sitting alone in the cramped kitchen of the now-quiet house, soda in hand. He had more or less anticipated this kind of reaction when he told Angel about Riley's plant to sneak in to the Abandoned City to steal the digistructing program. He took a sip from the aluminum cylinder while staring at the refrigerator- a note from his father was posted there. Back n 3 dys. Emergenc w/slabs. Ordered ur wine. I love you, it read. The hastily-written words looped together in a semblance of cursive script, and even though most of the note was shorthand and messy, the phrase "I love you" was perfectly legible and written in full. Roland was always pleased with how in love his parents were. In fact, he knew that these three days, his mother would be throwing herself into her work, because she could really only get large quantities of work on her library done when his father was gone. When he was here, they were frequently together, hunting bandits and bounties side by side. Actually, this window would be the perfect time to invade the Abandoned City- his mother would essentially be locked in her study for three days, his dad wouldn't be around to monitor his vast arsenal of spare guns, and Riley's parents would also be distracted as they filled in for Angel and Roland's father in the military (he was, after all, highly involved with recruit training).

Roland's mind raced as he began to plan. Regardless of the level of her tantrum, he knew Angel would come with them, if only for his sake. It was also the kind of high-stakes adventure she would normally happily throw herself into- really, the only thing wrong was the inclusion of Riley (and most likely also the fact that it was Riley's idea, and that he had agreed to it so readily without consulting with his twin). Once Angel had calmed down, she would grudgingly join in with the small raiding party. Her electric powers would be invaluable for shorting out the robots for short periods of time, allowing the others to sneak past them or put them down, in order of preference. Her short-range tactics would also be good in the event of a fight, coupled with the long-range talents that Roland possessed.

He sipped his soda. Everything was falling very nicely into place.

Roland had moved into the living room when Angel emerged from her repose. He was flipping the television's channels through the few off-world programs that Sanctuary's satellites could catch as she stepped into the room, hair mussed and makeup smudged, wrapped in her long, old robe. Silently, she stalked over and flopped next to her brother on the cushy, worn couch.

"You aren't gonna get an electric charge, dumbass," she muttered, fixing her gaze on the cartoon that Roland had landed on. "If you're really gonna fuck up robots, you need corrosive." From inside of her robe she withdrew a Maliwan SMG, different from the one she had just purchased earlier. "This is model is called Caustic Gospel." Without moving her eyes from the television, she carefully dropped the submachine gun into her surprised brother's lap.

"This one? But it's-"

"Caustic Gospel," she cut him off without raising her voice, "was probably my top favorite gun last year. Elemental damage over time is pretty astounding." There was a pause as Roland slowly picked up the gift. "That's probably the best corrosive charge you can find in Sanctuary, except for what Mom has. Sure, my electricity can short the robots out, but if we actually have to fight them… well, it will be very bad if no one has a caustic."

"But, you should have one too-"

"I'm going to steal one of Mom's," was the nonchalant reply. "And her Infinity pistol." Perhaps the only non-Maliwan gun owned by their mother, the high-tech Discharge Infinity was an extremely rare Vladoff pistol that not only possessed a strong electrical element charge but also would shoot indefinitely without bullets. It was among their mother's most prized possessions.

"Mom's Infinity pistol," Roland repeated, disbelief flattening his tone. "Mom loves that thing more than, than…" he floundered for a minute, unable to think of a comparison. "More than us, probably," he finally finished.

"Well, unless Riley fucks up really bad and gets us killed, Mom won't even know that it went missing. She doesn't use it that often." Angel sank back into the couch, sighing heavily. "So tell Riley not to fuck up."

The sound of the cartoon on the television was the only sound in the room, but even without aural competition, neither twin heard the blaring sounds that narrated the ever-changing frames. The tension in the room had skyrocketed as soon as Angel had verbally recognized the very real threat of the mission's failure. In his calculations of the near future, Roland had forgotten one key fact- Riley, gifted as she was in the mechanical arts, was an untrained shot and completely untested in stealth and covert operations. Angel and Roland had accompanied their parents on missions for most of their lives, but Riley, who often fought with both her parents and had preferred sleeping in the garages since the age of eight, had not been granted such opportunities. Riley was a liability. Neither sibling had needed to take care of someone else in the field before- they had always gone out with their parents or each other, only people who knew how to hold their own and needed no protection.

Angel grabbed a forgotten pack of their father's cigarettes off of the short table that separated the couch from the television. Standing, she put one in her teeth, tossed the pack back, and fished a lighter out of a pocket of her robe. "I'll be outside," she said emotionlessly.

trashlady: who else has had a boner since they announced the borderlands movie?

trashlady: it a short chapter. oh well. character development.

trashlady: please talk to me

trashlady: ps i love these dumb babies