Chapter 6: Evacuation

"Let me guess: Tina's special friend is about as tall as me, has dark, bluish hair, wields a shield and amazingly still picks bones with Atlas", Maya concluded.

"Stands to reason." Jessup shrugged. "Just go over to Friedman and ask her."

Lilith's gaze would have been able to kill a Rakk Hive, as she looked out over the balcony, in the rough direction of Pierce Station. "Inconveniently the bitch isn't here at the moment. I'm already getting second thoughts on letting her go."

"Well, I'd call it a freak", Maya said. "She had absolutely no way of knowing that you would let her out just today. And what does it matter? Old Haven was a ghost town and not even the Crab Worms have made efforts to nest there. If Athena wants to raze the last remnants of Atlas to the ground and Torgue and Tina want to have a little fun in their personal field of expertise, let them, as long as they're not harming our guys."

"Why are you defending this backstabbing so-and-so?", Lilith snarled.

Maya could have explained herself in detail, but she decided to wait until Jessup was out of the room. "Let's keep the focus here, please. So, Old Haven is gone. What else?"

"We're back to good news again, I suppose", the Lieutenant replied cautiously. "A last matter concerning Vault Hunters: Operation GTFO has been successful. I just got the ECHO before I came in here. The refugees are on the way to the Crater as we speak, but they're all still a bit shell-shocked, so we don't know in detail what happened."

"Must have been quite a ride, if it managed to shock Salvador", Maya commented, keeping the envy from her voice as best as she could.

"Oh, Salvador isn't shocked at all. He's just high on adrenaline, telling everyone except the ECHO how awesome the trip was..."

Salvador stood in the middle of Lynchwood's Main Road. Completely uncovered, alone and a gun in each hand, his personalized Vladof mini-gun, the Shredifier, and a shotgun from his days with the Sandpirates. He was shooting at everything that moved and most of it shot back.

He was having the time of his life.

A bandit charged him with a huge machete and the pellets of the shotgun stenciled a grinning skull-and-crossbones pattern into his chest. The bullets from his mini-gun formed an almost unbroken line of craters that lead from window to window to doorway to balcony to wherever else gunmen appeared. A Marauder was ducking in and out of cover, shooting his double-barreled wildly from the hip, never hitting a thing. Salvador provided him with a round of buckshot that necessitated intense dental work. A midget ran up to him, squealing and waving a grenade. The Shredifier caught the midget first, then the grenade in mid-air, after the dying maniac had dropped it. Instead of the blast, the gunzerker felt tiny electrical stings, wherever his shield absorbed damage, but nothing came through. "I'm completely badass", Salvador shouted, just because he could, finally reloading the minigun, when a dusty figure with a veiled face rose from cover and aimed an assault rifle at him.

There was a loud crack and the attacker dropped.

"Ey!", Salvador shouted, looking over his shoulder without a noteworthy effect on the amount of lead he let fly. "Hold your horses, hombre! I'm the shooter here."

The old man with the sniper rifle quickly muttered an apology, while Salvador assessed the situation behind his back in a heartbeat: The townspeople were hurrying after him, staying close together and keeping a healthy safety distance to the agitated Vault Hunter. Winger and his Skag-riders kept them together like sheepdogs. They busied themselves with stragglers late to the party and those bandits that were able to rise after the walking firestorm by the name of Salvador had hit them. All good here.

A couple of hours ago Sheriff Winger of Lynchwood had ECHOed the Crimson Raiders with a plea for help. The civilian populace of the town (or at least the Pandoran equivalent) had occupied Gunslinger's Corner after the timely death of the old sheriff and rode the remainder of the war out in relative peace. The bandits that had followed Nisha's challenging calls were still holed up in the main town, but infighting and the fact they didn't have Skag-riders at their disposal, made them pretty harmless. The townsfolk appreciated the efforts of the Crimson Raiders, but preferred to be left in peace - until just recently the Hodunks had arrived, declared the town as part of their territory and given the local gangs the choice between joining the clan or a grenade in their pants. Winger and his team of civilians and marshals, eighty-seven men, women and children in total, had repelled an attack by the newly unified bandits of Lynchwood and sent their distress call shortly after. They wanted to leave the town as soon as possible and any help in the evacuation would be dearly needed, especially help with a lot of firepower.

As it was difficult to bring vehicles to the hollow where the town had been constructed, Crimson Raider HQ had decided to evacuate the people via the railway tunnel that led west and have Moxxi's men pick them up there to bring them to the Badass Crater of Badassitude. There, the refugees would be able to register for Fast Travel and resettle wherever the Raiders saw fit. And to lead the townspeople through the bandit-infested bulk of Lynchwood, the Raiders had sent the closest thing they had to a tank.

"Ah, you should have brought a real gun, little guy", a Bruiser called, but unfortunately he was playing against the master of provocation. Salvador quickly lowered his shotgun for reloading and as his hand was already near the SDU, he produced a grenade (or two, it didn't really matter) and lobbed it (or them) at the oncoming colossus. The explosion blasted a crater into the pavement and slammed the bandit backwards. He never rose again.

Winger had greeted the Vault Hunter humorously. "I'd like to say I'm glad to see you back in town", the lawman had said, "but the last time you came here you shot it up pretty darn well, so I can't say it officially." The rest of the people had been a bit skeptical about the fact a single man, and a small one come to that, was supposed to help them run the gauntlet successfully. There had been a lot of arguing and whining and Salvador had felt the need to empty a magazine into the roof in order to lend the whole matter a bit of structure, but it had been Winger, with his calm and reasonable demeanor and his long history of caring for the citizens of Lynchwood, who had eventually convinced the people to trust the Vault Hunter.

Somewhere to his left someone screamed horribly. Salvador spared a glance. Dukino was squatting on a badly maimed Scavenger, barking happily and then pouncing off towards the next bandit. The reddish Skag had continued to grow; he was nowhere near his freaking mother, but big enough to serve as a mount, if he would have allowed anyone to climb on his back. Still, Dukino remained the most likeable Skag in the history of Lynchwood and wasn't interested in staying behind, if everyone else left, especially Winger, who had taken care of the more-than-half-tame Skag, Salvador, whom he had adopted as one sixth of a mother or something, and a certain female Skag ridden by one of the marshals.

The shotgun was starting to irritate the gunzerker, as he couldn't just keep the trigger down, so he switched to a Maliwan SMG. Within seconds the first bandits howled, as they were set ablaze by the sulfurous rounds, but it wasn't the same as the massive stopping power of a scatter gun. Someone really ought to invent a fully automatic shotgun these days. Mental note, ask Torgue about the matter. After all, the man was working really hard to realize this crazy sword-shooting gun Tina had come up with during a game of Bunkers & Badasses.

A MIRV went off in mid-air, showering him in child-grenades that cracked and boomed like firework around him. Due to his shield, they were about as dangerous as a firework, too. Nevertheless Salvador automatically tried to estimate the thrower's position, which was further simplified by three more grenades hurtling through the air. He avoided them by ducking into an alleyway. Got you, pendejos. Some bandits had set up a position on top of the pharmacy. Which was absurdly clever by bandit's standards, as someone on the street couldn't get a good angle at them (given said someone wasn't a thin, black-clad assassin who only ever spoke in haikus. Salvador had seen this guy perform shots that went literally around a corner).

"You're trying to hide!", he screamed, quickly changing weapons. "Mistake!"

He jumped back on the street, a rocket launcher in each hand, as if the weapons didn't weigh 15 kilos each. The gunzerker glimpsed a bright bandit who immediately jumped off the rooftop position, then he pulled the triggers, effectively robbing the pharmacy of its roof and then some. A quick look around showed him the bandits were retreating after this show of force.

"Can't run, can't hide!", Salvador cackled and switched back to machineguns. But as he set out to pursue the fleeing renegades, someone whistled piercingly. His first thought was simply: Abuela! Because that was exactly the kind of whistle his grandmother had always used to call him and his hermanos back inside for some excruciatingly boring housework.

He turned quickly, but of course his abuela was nowhere in sight. Winger was, however, letting his Skag pace in front of the tunnel entrance. The rest of Lynchwood's refugees had already disappeared into the darkness that was cut down by the rays of flashlights.

"Don't mean to interrupt", the Sheriff shouted, grinning broadly, "but - we're leaving now!"

At this point in his rampage Salvador was tempted to wave Winger goodbye and continue after the poor outlaws. Less than a year ago he would have done it, fair and square and without a tingle of remorse. But that would have been before he had met his friends who were all so much like him yet so different: Little Gaige, who had initially been shocked and horrified by the brutality of everyday Pandora and whom he had looked after in every firefight until Bloodshot Dam. Axton and Maya, who had come up with complicated but incredibly effective plans that required people to hold their fire at times or even retreat. Zero, who had waited calmly and patiently for the perfect moment to strike. And Krieg, who he had found so often lying in a pool of his own blood, screaming obscenities and just waiting for a compadre to pass by and inject him with an Instant-Health.

Salvador heaved a deep sigh and ran after the Sheriff, into the tunnel.

The townspeople quickly let him through, staring at him in awe. A little boy was whispering to his mother: "See Mum, I told it would be alright, him's a Vault Hunter!" One of the marshals applauded. The old man with the sniper rifle muttered another apology. A woman with a thick steel helmet on her head and an assault rifle in her arms smiled at him. Salvador decided his morale just couldn't get enough boosts in a row and smiled back at the men and women he had covered. Then Dukino caught up to him, barking happily and trying to lick his face and the Skag was very lucky to do this in times of huge morale boosts, because otherwise Salvador would have been tempted to shoot him and to fabricate a story for the others (especially Krieg and Gaige!) in the aftermath.

The sun was blinding, when they reached the end of the tunnel. The train tracks disappeared into the Wasteland, dust-devils danced on the hilltops and Rakk screeched in the distance. This was the rendezvous point with Moxxi's men who would arrive in trucks and busses.

"Alright, amigos, the worst part is over", Salvador said enthusiastically, though the high of the fight was starting to wear off. Perhaps he would go back and continue with his killing spree, once the townspeople where safely on their way to the Badass Crater of Badassitude (ah, he really loved that name!).

The refugees nodded agreement, muttered thanks, relaxed. They had escaped their besieged little corner of the world and they were all native Pandorans. They might have been afraid to risk all out war against brutal bandits, but even fiberglass would have a hard standing against their general durability. The Badlands weren't regarded as a threat or a problem, just a place to pass through.

"Very well done, partner", Winger said, strolling over to the Vault Hunter, holding his Skag by the reins.

Salvador grinned. "Ah, well, it was my pleasure. Besides, I'm still a deputy sheriff of Lynchwood, am I not?"

The Sheriff laughed. "Well, technically you are. But I'm far too sane to try and order you or any of your fellow Vault Hunters around. Anyways, there's a matter you should know about, now that we're not being shot at."

"Alright, shoot."

"When the Hodunks arrived in Lynchwood, they tried to occupy the Grinders and everything else connected to the mining business, too. At first, they wanted to talk it out with the Rats, and when that didn't work, for obvious reasons, they went ballistic, which didn't end all too well either. Now, that's neither my business nor yours, but if I look at the bigger picture, I'd say the Hodunks want to help themselves to a piece of your lot's pie."

Salvador nodded slowly. That's what happened when people didn't listen to him! During the last Clan War, he had strongly advocated for taking out the Hodunks, but somehow the others had outvoted him. Yeah, just kill off the only people this side of the planet that could make a decent booze and leave the faction alive that was heavily motorized, claimed most of the Dead Sands for themselves and amazingly exceeded Brick in stubbornness. And now these rednecks were starting to get ideas about Eridium and maybe even selling it...

Something screamed. A high-pitched, ululating scream, inhuman and ear splitting. Some people dropped to the ground, clutching their ears. Just when the horrible sound faded out, a second scream followed, even shriller than the first one. Salvador saw some men and women collapse, blood running from their ears and noses and he himself had the feeling someone was driving a dull nail through his forehead. The world became dizzy for a moment, until the scream ended, thankfully.

Winger said something and Salvador had to lip-read most of it as his ears were yet on strike. After all those gunfights he was pretty adept at lip-reading in any case and Winger's question: "What the hell was that?!", wasn't exactly difficult to guess after what had just happened.

Salvador scanned the surrounding desert. Every movement of his head sent sharp pain into his brain and, for some odd reasons, into his eyes, which suddenly felt twice as big. But at least he saw the screamers, as they dug themselves from the sand.

Rats.

Lots and lots of Rats clawed their way out of shallow, covered holes in the dirt. Some swarmed out of the tunnel they had just cleared. And among them were three things... Salvador had seen and fought Lab-Rats before but these guys...

They were incredibly tall and lanky and when they walked their torsos swirled and bobbed like they were mounted on springs. This was because their legs had two knee-joints each, one normal, the other, lower one pointing backwards. They were wrapped in torn, dirty tunics, their hands sported claws and their faces were veiled except for their eyes, which lacked pupils. Salvador had always had the distinct feeling that the Rats kept the faces of their big brethren hidden because they couldn't stand the sight of them and therefore he had never removed a Lab-Rat's mask.

"Pendejos!", Salvador hissed, grabbed two guns and started to run, as fast as he could, while the smaller Rats converged on the shocked and unconscious townspeople. But the second he was spotted, one of the Lab-Rats laid its head back and screamed again. This time it forced the gunzerker to the ground. It was impossible to withstand this shrill, high-pitched sound. He couldn't move, he couldn't shoot, he was hardly self-aware anymore.

He needed a plan. By now, most of the refugees had passed out and on top of his other problems he would have to move them somehow, once he neutralized the Rats and their damn screamers. But how?! His usual tactics of charging into the fray was useless against these things. Where the hell had they...? But that was unimportant! The important thing were the giggling rats coming closer, ready to dice them and make stew of them! Something was already nudging his shoulder and as he jerked his head around, sending his brain into a new dimension of pain, he found himself eye to eye...

... with a Skag. A reddish Skag that looked really worried. The scream hadn't affected the beast! And as he carefully looked around, the other Skags appeared to be equally unimpressed by the sonic assault. In fact, the only thing that kept them from attacking the Rats, were the dazed and unconscious riders on their backs: As long as they felt deadweight, they knew better than to act impulsively.

"Dukino!", Salvador shouted at the top of his lungs. "Dukino! Fetch! Kill! Rip these monsters apart!"

He hardly heard his own voice, but Dukino definitely reacted. The big Skag growled and jumped at the nearest Rat, ripping a pretty big hole in its chest. The other mutants squealed and hissed in fright and anger and started to shoot at the beast, quickly jumping away from it.

While Dukino did an excellent job at distracting the enemy, Salvador crawled over to the nearest, unconscious Skag-Rider, pulled him from the saddle, and slapped the Skag in the rear. The armored creature bellowed and made good use of its new won freedom by attacking one of the lanky Lab-Rats, slamming it to the ground and clawing its throat open. Excellent, excellent...

The other Skags got more and more agitated, growling, barking, one of them vomited (or defecated, it was really the same thing with Skags) on a Rat that came too close for comfort. Salvador freed another beast of its rider and it stampeded straight into the carnage. At this point, one of the remaining Lab-Rats tried its thing again, but the Skags remained unaffected and Salvador had buried most of his head in the sand, thus escaping the brunt of the scream.

Rats were incredibly bad shots, even by the low standards of Pandoran bandits, and in close quarters their claws were no match against three powerful jaws, armor plating and the momentum of five hundred pounds of muscle. Therefore, the Skags occupied them far longer than they would have occupied any other native of Pandora.

After he set a fourth Skag on the loose, Salvador decided that there was more than enough distraction to draw a weapon. He managed without causing another scream. Good sign. He remained on his stomach while setting up a sniper rifle. Not his favored weapon, but it was designed to be fired from a person lying down, it had the gauge he needed and at least it was a Vladof.

The Lab-Rat's head was bobbing in and out of the crosshairs, even though the distance was laughable, so he aimed for the chest. A few rounds through the lungs should silence the mutant. Salvador held the trigger down and fired a burst that consumed half of the weapons clip, not to mention set the scope completely off target, but the Rat collapsed with a wild zig-zagging pattern of bulletholes in its chest. Salvador tried to ignore the fact that Zero would have been able to make this a sure headshot with a single bullet without the scope, while he jumped to his feet and drew the rocket launchers. No more time for subtlety, before the last remaining Screamer realized what was going on.

"Hasta la vista!", Salvador roared and fired.

Beneath its scarf the mutant opened its mouth to scream and then two missiles that were designed to pierce shielded armor on tanks, mechas and small spacecrafts hit it in the chest. They detonated on impact. The Lab-Rat disappeared like a sorcerer's apprentice: In a puff of red smoke.

His eyes were still asquint, his frontal lobe was throbbing like a Varkid-Pod and he had barely heard the rocket launchers, but Salvador shoved all these inconveniences aside and drew two random machineguns. "You sneaky little bastards! Maldito pendejos! Hijo de putas! Something obscene! You think you can get away?! You think you can make an ambush?! Knock me out with a little sound?! Clearly, you have never been in a car where Gaige was allowed to choose the music!"

He was shooting while shouting, mowing the Rats down, occasionally hitting a rampaging Skag, but the beasts didn't care (yet). This was not his usual cheerful gunzerking rage: This was personal! These guys had forced him to his knees and that made him really angry. They were dead men (or whatever) on principle. Luckily the townspeople were out cold, otherwise he might have shot some of them, too, in order to eliminate witnesses to his momentary weakness. Though, the longer he thought about it, the more awesome it felt: These mutants had won the first match - and he had beaten them in the second one with ingenious wit and firepower and while the Rats bounced around in their unnatural way, dying one by one, Salvador started to laugh gleefully, mocking them with every step he made.

He was just done with the killing, when the cavalry appeared on the horizon: Three armored buses and two Outrunners. The drivers found a bunch of groaning and lamenting townspeople who were carefully dragging themselves back to their feet, lots of dead Rats, a couple of Skags feasting on the corpses and a Vault Hunter shooting two guns simultaneously into the air and laughing like mad.