Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Angel, sweetie? Just checking in. How’s the search for some Vault Hunters going?”

John’s grinning face on the screen was larger-than-life, as usual. Angel drummed her fingers against her desk, a bit annoyed—she’d been listening to DJ Rakk Attakk detail the pollution caused by slag runoff in Twin Fells on the radio. But of course John couldn’t be put on hold.

“I have several candidates, but my search isn’t finished. Give me a few more weeks.”

John gave a low whistle. 

“C’mon, kiddo, time for the Vault’s running out. We needed this plan yesterday, and Ass-iter is breathing down my neck.”

“I’ll do my best,” Angel replied monotonously. Any hint of instability or rebellion would get her put back on medication.

“Thanks, pumpkin. You’re the best.”

The call ended. Just a routine check-in about her progress on their project, and Angel was free to return to the radio, which had moved on to local music.

It was Angel’s birthday.

Her mom wouldn’t have forgotten a birthday. Angel remembered strawberries and cream, presents and park outings. She was grown up now, seventeen years old, and yet still wished for the immature pleasure of a gift.

Everything that entered her chambers was controlled, so she couldn’t exactly order herself a cake. John had her on a strict diet, so she could reach “maximum performance” without ending up like “that mechanic.”

Angel tapped in a number. She was dizzy with adrenaline.

She called. And the other line answered.

She asked.

“No problem.”

DJ Rakk Attakk hung up, and Angel blinked and breathed out. She could barely believe it had worked. She hadn’t manipulated, bribed, or lied. She’d just asked.

“Wasteland Renegade” popped up on the queue Angel had pulled up on her screen. It was bad form to hack the ECHOs of her favorite radio DJ, but she just couldn’t help it, because sometimes the DJ would write herself little notes. Pick up eggs on the way home. Remind Fiona to grab the fake chips. Tell Marcy she needs to do better at sweeping. 

It was a little glimpse into a normal life, a look at the person behind the voice Angel had listened to for two months.

“Up next, a birthday gift for a first time caller as well as a personal favorite, ‘Wasteland Renegade’ by Shooting the Sky.”

Angel closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. The quality of the music was tinny and occasionally spotty, but Angel would never dream of listening to it any other way. 

She would send a message to DJ Rakk Attakk, she decided. Or no—Sasha. She would be friends with Sasha, perhaps. Jack had no use for Sasha, and that kept both of them safe.

———-

Sasha was almost seventeen, fresh-faced and fiery with a new job at a radio station. It didn’t pay well, but there was something so vindicating about waving that money in Fiona and Felix’s faces, to say that, see, she could make money just like her sister. And wouldn’t even get arrested for it! At least, not by anyone in Hollow Point. And her coworkers weren’t as psycho as the average Pandoran.

“…and that’s just one of the reasons why Hyperion’s presence on Pandora looks to be far worse for the citizens than Atlas and DAHL combined. I’m DJ Rakk Attack, and this is HPUR. Up next, an hour of local music brought to you ad-free by ENGORGE!”

The sound manager, Wave, ruffled her spiky blue hair and gave Sasha a thumbs up from the sound booth. Sasha grinned and leaned back in her chair. The lights in the old station flickered, and every piece of furniture was threadbare, but Sasha wouldn’t want to work anywhere else in Hollow Point. Including the seedy blackjack tables her sister had taken to frequenting with a different con each time. Fiona and Felix wanted her back on the backstreets, but Sasha was done with that. She’d make herself a real living, and then they’d both be so proud of her.

“Check it,” Wave gestured to the ECHO, which was blinking. “You got a call.”

Sasha rushed into the sound booth. Calls were rare at this hour; everyone in Hollow Point was either asleep or drunk. She picked up the ECHO.

“Hollow Point Underground Radio,” she said, professionally, like she’d practiced. “What can we do for you?”

“Long time listener, first time caller. Can you play ‘Wasteland Renegade’ by Shooting the Sky? It’s my favorite. For my birthday.”

“No problem.” 

Sasha hung up and turned to Wave with a smirk.

“Wasteland Renegade,” she said, sing-song. “Told you other people wanted to hear it.”

“Fine,” Wave grumbled good-naturedly, tapping at her computer. “Good to know you’ve found one other person who likes weird Elpis indie. And wants to play it for their birthday. Wow, what a party animal.”

Wave liked to tease, but she was one of Sasha’s best friends, because she would just tease Sasha about her interests rather than pulling a pistol.

That night, Sasha told Fiona about the request excitedly, because she was seventeen and as much as she pretended to resent her sister, she couldn’t help but share all the things that made her happy.

“So you’re gonna keep playing that song on car trips?” Fiona drawled, pretending to sound bored or frustrated, but she was a terrible liar and Sasha could see the way her mouth turned up just a little at the corners.

——-

“…aaaaand that was Shooting The Sky with ‘Wasteland Renegade.’ That one’s one of my favorites, folks, but now it’s on to ‘Siren Song’ by Pandoran Sunset. I’m DJ Rakk Attack, and this is HPUR.”

Angel smiled and nodded her head to the music. She had requested the previous song, and thus effected change in the real world. It was a decent enough substitute for actually being able to go outside. It was a heady rush, a feeling of power almost as intense as being a Siren, to know that she could just…make that station play things. By asking. 

She was seventeen, already pale and shivering in her new home on a small satellite, surrounded by computers displaying data from all the other satellites. Her fingers danced over the keyboards—she had to work tirelessly, her father said, if they had a chance of proving Tassiter wrong. She knew the potential Pandora held, but she wished her father could have been there with her in the satellite. He was on Iapetus, in Hyperion headquarters, pretending to be nothing more than a toady programmer. 

Every two hours, she took a break to walk to her porthole window and look down on Pandora. It was dusty and uninviting, and she wanted to visit it very badly. Maybe when she’d uncovered its secrets, her father would let her visit. Hollow Point—where DJ Rakk Attack lived—was somewhere down there; her orbit took her over it every three hours. For ten minutes every day, the relays were unable to take the signal to her satellite because the planet was in the way. 

The radio was nice. It provided a nice background noise as she searched for ideal Vault hunting candidates.

--August 9, Year 1--

>>Hello. My name is Angel. I’ve been listening to your station for a while, and I just wanted to say how much I love how you DJ. Your talks, the music, all of it.

Sasha took a long time to stare at the screen before replying.

>How the hell did you get this number?

>>I don’t mean to alarm you. I have a gift with computers. Earlier, I took the liberty of throwing some bounty hunters off your family’s scent. My apologies if that wasn’t OK.

“Hey, Fi?” Sasha called. “Can you come over and look at this?”

“Is it urgent?” Fiona responded. She was engrossed in sewing a new patch onto her leather jacket.

“I… guess not,” Sasha replied, because she was seventeen now and could deal with her problems.

>Who are you? Where do you live?

>>I told you who I am, and I live off-planet.

An off-planet listener! Sasha couldn’t wait to tell Wave. She finally had someone to ask about the planets beyond Pandora and all the dreams beyond her reach. She’d been dejected at the low listenership in Hollow Point, but now her little community radio station had beamed itself clear off Pandora. Sasha hoped desperately that she could follow it someday.

——-

Angel hadn’t anticipated Sasha wanting to talk so much. Sasha had endless questions about what it was like to live somewhere that wasn’t Pandora, and most of them were questions that Angel couldn’t quite answer, so she had to lie. She had long since forgotten what rain felt like, and she only ever saw the stars through a porthole window. She envied Sasha the chance to go outside and gaze up at that band of sparkling lights undimmed by any human industry. 

At first, her answers were curt, few and far between. No and Yes and I Don’t Know. 

But Sasha had a dangerous way of making Angel feel safe. She leaned back into her chair and let the music wash over her as she closed her eyes and watched the Vault Hunters on Pandora’s surface. It was a rare joy getting to hear Sasha do a piece on Eridium pipelines while Angel watched Lilith vault over a pipeline and slam into a bandit, knocking him off his turret with a fiery fist. 

And Sasha’s voice was the only thing keeping Angel sane as she manipulated the Vault Hunters across Pandora. She was always with them, but more and more, Sasha was always with her. 

So Angel took a risk one day while the Vault Hunters were resting after Krom’s Canyon. 

>How was your day? 

Her hands shook, and she had to retype the message a few times. With every minute that passed without a reply, she felt the almost overwhelming urge to just delete the message. 

Her ECHO pinged. 

>>been keeping track of a story at a local bar. usual boring stuff. same ol pandora. how about you?

Whenever Jack asked how her day was, it was code for “what useful things did you do today.” 

>I’m sorry to say I didn’t do much. Just watched some ECHOflix. 

>>sounds like a great day lol

Angel didn’t think Sasha was being sarcastic, but the embarrassment was still there. She couldn’t help both Sasha and Jack, and she’d chosen Jack. She wanted to wash her hands.

Chapter Text

A courier announced their presence at the station with several quick raps at the door and was gone by the time Jared, the new sweaty intern, jumped up and answered it.

“It’s for you,” he called as soon as Sasha finished her break and wheeled her swivel chair away from the microphone. 

Jared entered the booth and unceremoniously dumped a cardboard tube into Sasha’s lap. Sasha examined it. There was no return address. 

She opened the package. Inside was a poster that unfurled to reveal a beautiful image from the surface of Dionysus. The planet she’d always wanted to visit.

Sasha couldn’t quite tell if it was better or worse to have a quick taste of that idyllic destination. It was like talking to Angel. On one hand, it was dizzying and intoxicating to get a glimpse beyond Pandora. On the other, neither Angel nor the poster could take Sasha to a place where she could look around her and see the same beauty that reigned above her.
She messaged Angel.
>hey, I’m gonna be away from the mic for a bit. dumb family crap

>>Oh dear! Hopefully you’ll be staying safe.

>>…What’s your family like?

>fine, i guess. i live with my sister and my

She typed “dad,” but no, that was ridiculous, so she backspaced. “Mentor…” nope. Adopted parental figure? Crime boss? Weird old man who lives in my car?

>fine, i guess. i live with my sister and felix, this old guy we live with. they really want me to take on the family business, but i wanna do radio and keep sticking it to hyperion, ya feel?

Angel was typing for what felt like fifteen minutes.

>>I definitely understand.
>>My father wants me to help him with his work and take it on after he retires, but I really don’t want to. I do hope you keep doing radio.

>well, if i do, i hope it won’t be here

>>Oh?

>this planet sucks. my sister and i used to talk all the time about how we would get a spaceship and set sail for the endless ocean of stars or whatever bullshit, but she gave up and now just wants me to join the fucking family business

>>Family businesses are rough, to say the least.
>>Can I tell you something?

>sure, anything

>>I hate what my dad is doing. The family business is corrupt and destructive. But I can’t get away. I wish I could get in a spaceship and fly somewhere far away.

>does he work for hyperion?

>>Yes.

>maybe we should fly away together

“Why are you smiling at your ECHO?” Fiona called.

"No reason,” Sasha replied. “Mind your own business.”

>>I would like that. As long as you can keep doing what you love. The radio is dangerous, though. Why keep doing it if Hyperion might come after you?

>they have

Sasha rubbed the little scar on her wrist.

>about once a year, soldiers come by looking for “seditious individuals.” but i can’t let that stop me cuz no one else is gonna say what needs to be said

>>You’re very brave. Braver than I could ever be, anyway.

> i dunno, i don’t think of it as bravery. i just know what i need to do. i wish i could do more

Chapter Text

>>we should talk

>>like, for real

>>i wanna tell you about my day, you would not BELIEVE the stunt my sister pulled

Angel wiped the tears away from her face and rubbed the bruise on her arm. Jack hadn’t meant to throw a stapler at her, but he was angry. So, so angry. Not at her, but it was hard for her not to feel guilty. Because it was her fault. She’d made a conscious decision to not tell Jack about the plot to kill him.

Jack would never let her call someone who wasn’t him. It wasn’t safe, he’d say, but it was really about control. She’d learned that as soon as Jack plugged her into one of his machines to find the Elpis Vault, a machine that was so much more dangerous than stranger danger.

She was terrified that Jack would find out, and then Sasha would be in danger. She’d held back from letting Sasha hear her voice outside of the impersonal context of the radio station. But Angel’s chest was racked with sobs and her mind was fraught with anxiety, and she just wanted to hear Sasha talk about her day.

She made the call.

“Hello,” she said, trying to control the warble in her voice.

“Hey! Wow, it’s nice to hear you outside of the radio station.” Sasha paused. “You okay? You sound kinda like you’ve been crying.”

Jack never would have picked up on Angel’s distress, even face to face. What if she was somehow losing the affinity for manipulation that kept her safe?

“I’m… fine,” Angel replied, and it wasn’t quite a lie. “I just need to be distracted. Tell me about your day. I want to hear every single boring detail.”

“Well… okay.”

And Sasha told Angel everything. She started with the egg sandwich she had in the morning. Fiona had picked several pockets, including the pocket of Hollow Point’s mayor. Sasha had started on another sewing project to make herself a jacket. She did her shift at the radio station, but said it was a bit boring without Angel calling in to request a new song. Angel apologized sheepishly, and Sasha confusedly asked why Angel felt the need to apologize.

“What about you?” Sasha asked once she’d finished. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Angel said. “Well, no, actually, it was pretty bad. I… moved recently, and my new house isn’t great, but it’s not like I can leave, because it’s not safe.”

“It’s not safe? Girl, you’re not on Pandora, that qualifies as safe.”

Angel laughed humorlessly. “I actually am on Pandora now. I live near a research facility.”

“Hyperion?”

“Unfortunately. And, well, I’ve been suffering from the side effects of their Eridium experimentation.”

Angel was a master manipulator. She wasn’t supposed to feel a fiery storm of guilt deep in her gut when she said something that was technically not even a lie.

“Damn. That really sucks. Why not just leave? Even the desert’s better than Hyperion. Take off to the wasteland, y’know?”

Angel blinked. Why didn’t she? She’d always taken for granted that Handsome Jack’s machinations were far too much for her to circumvent. But she was smarter than him. And she was a motherfucking Siren.

“You know what?” Angel said, “You’re right. I should leave. Maybe I’ll come to Hollow Point.”

“I’d like that,” Sasha replied softly, a hint of a laugh in her voice. “I’d love you to meet my family.”

Her family.

Angel didn’t know anything about families. Her mother remained nothing more than a ghost, a wisp of memory that she could never grab onto.

Chapter Text

Angel was playing the long con, and it was a risky one. Her plan would take a long time, and would require leaving behind everything she’d ever known. But every time she faltered or felt afraid, she would shoot Sasha a quick message, and her courage returned.

She befriended her doctors rather than just giving them listless stares. She probed deeper and deeper into Hyperion’s systems. She started actively participating in Jack’s little “exercises” to boost her power, pretending it was just too unstable for her to reliably target the bandits he brought up for her to kill.

Every evening, she talked to Sasha long into the solar night.

“I’ve always wanted to see the stars,” Sasha confessed. “I don’t mean, like, just looking at them, you know? I want to get in a spaceship and leave Pandora. See what all the other planets have to offer.”

“I hear Dionysius is beautiful,” Angel said. “I think you’d like it, from the pictures I’ve seen. Beautiful beaches and buildings that glitter and reach the sky.”

Angel could practically hear Sasha beaming as she replied, “I have a travel poster for it on my wall.”

Of course she did. Angel remembered the precautions she had to take to get that to Hollow Point without raising suspicion. Angel made a silent promise that, if she escaped, she would take Sasha to Dionysius. 

And just as Angel was about to reply, Jack burst into the room and yelled, “Angel! We need to have a talk!”

June 29, Year 5

No one in Hollow Point saw the soldiers coming. Fortunately, Sasha had contacts. Contacts that woke her up with a blare of the ECHO.

“Fiona!” she yelled, shaking her sister awake. “We gotta go! Right now!”

“Hm, wh…” Fiona wrapped herself in blankets and turned away. “‘ive more m’nutes.”

Sasha hissed in frustration and rushed for the driver’s seat. Her hands were steady as she started the caravan. Generally Fiona and Felix preferred to be informed of their destination, but they’d gotten it down to a routine. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission and all that.

Sasha heard Felix jolt awake as they started to pull out of Hollow Point.

“Sasha,” he asked, “where on Pandora are we going?”

“Dunno,” she replied. “Hyperion soldiers are coming. Better to be safe.”

Felix sighed. “I do hope this isn’t due to your irresponsible radio pieces again.”

Sasha shot him a glare over her shoulder. “Justice isn’t irresponsible.”

“It will get you killed eventually.” Felix sat up and immediately started tinkering with the device he’d fallen asleep fixing the previous night.

Sasha clenched her jaw to avoid retorting and turned on the radio. It was tuned to Felix’s dumb heavy metal station. She turned the dial to HPUR. She’d warned the station, but they all refused to leave, stating that Hyperion was probably just doing a propaganda tour or something.

“…says that the recent skag raids are nothing to worry about, and the casualties are minimal, but we here at HPUR know that Mayor Austin is covering something up. Not to mention the recent contributions from Hyperion, payment for wh0 knows what—hey, who is that? This is a soundbooth, you can’t—“

Oh no.

“This station has been ordered terminated for sedition,” said a robotic voice, barely audible over the airways. “Submit or perish, Mendez.”

Sasha gasped and her hands clenched on the wheel. They weren’t just there for the station. They were there for her.

“Ok,” Wave sighed. “I’ll come quietly…not!”

Three gunshots. A yell. A robotic scream as the Loader Bot died.

“This is Wave from Hollow Point, signing off for now! Uh, we’re on hiatus!” Wave yelled, clearly close to the mic. The connection fizzled into static.

June 30, Year 5

“You understand why I can’t have you talking to her, right, sweetheart?”

Angel didn’t bother to nod. Jack was cutting her hair, and besides, her agreement had always been taken for granted.

“Please don’t hurt her,” Angel whispered.

“She means a lot to you, clearly,” Jack’s voice was full of acid. “I won’t hurt her. Don’t worry, she’s okay. But, y’see my dilemma here? I can’t block you from the ECHO,” he chuckled, “because God knows you can hack circles around me. But I’ve got a solution I think everyone’s gonna like.”

He paused in his hairdressing, and then Angel heard a razor click on. Jack began shaving a side of her head.

“What are you doing?” Angel asked, almost screamed. Shaving her head always meant bad things. She tried to jerk away, but she found herself frozen to her seat, and cursed herself for her cowardice.

“Things will be better now, Angel,” Jack soothed. “You’ll see. I came up with something brilliant.”

He put down the razor and took her hand. Angel shook it away, and Jack sighed.

“Doctors!” he called. “Come take Angel to the operating theatre.”

Six people in white coats silently came through the door, wheeling a gurney with restraints. Angel stepped back. 

“What are you doing?” she asked again—no, screamed. “What are you trying to do to me?”

“It’s for the best,” Jack said. “You need—“

“SHUT UP!” she yelled. “JUST SHUT UP!” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ve been silent long enough. I don’t want your doctors putting metal in me anymore. I don’t want any more Eridium. I don’t want to help you anymore. Let me go!”

“You know why I can’t do that, Angel,” Jack replied, distraught. “You can’t control your powers.”

He signaled the doctors to approach. Hot rage coiled deep in Angel’s stomach. 

Angel’s M.O. had always been to stay quiet and work in the shadows. But Sasha had taught her the right way to deal with Hyperion.

She was a Siren, as Jack kept reminding her.

“Oh, you think I can’t control my powers?” she said to Jack, her voice low and dangerous. 

Two doctors grabbed her by the arm, and Angel roared as energy raced down her arm. A bubble of pure white exploded from her, throwing the doctors and Jack backwards. She shook herself free and fixed the doctors, her tormenters, with a stare made of the icy courage Sasha had given her. 

“Enough,” she said, and the lead doctor crumpled to his knees, blood streaming from his eyes. 

“Angel!” Jack yelled, and for a moment Angel thought he was terrified until he said, “I’m so happy for you! You figured it out!”

Angel screamed and slashed a hand through the air. Jack’s eyes bulged as a fist made of pure light punched him in the gut, knocking him to the ground.

“How’s it fucking feel?” she hissed. “To be totally at the mercy of your family?”

She advanced on Jack, step by predatory step.

“I never told you,” she continued, “but remember that plot to kill you? To put you down like the vermin you are? I knew. And I said nothing. Because if I had been free, I would have done the same.”

Jack’s face was a perfect picture of hurt, and Angel relished it, up until the moment she felt the cold prick of a needle in her neck.

She had only a moment of panic before the sedatives clouded her vision and brought her to the floor.

——-

“Clear to proceed,” said the doctor. Angel saw a blurry face lean in over her. “We’re going to test your perception real quick.” A card with a square on it appeared in front of her face. “What shape do you see?”

“Fuck you,” Angel slurred.

The doctor tutted disapprovingly. “We have to do these exercises to confirm we’re on the right track.”

“Get out of my brain.”

“I can’t do that, sweetie.” There Jack was beside her, dressed in scrubs and wearing a look of concern underneath his surgical mask. “This is a solution that will benefit everyone.”

Angel glanced in the mirror they were using and saw the area of her skull they were sawing into. She remembered exactly where Jack had shaved her head. She recalled her neurology studies and realized what area they were going to compromise.

“You can’t do this,” she cried. “It’s—it’s too risky, I could lose everything that ever made me useful.”

Jack retreated from her side.

“Jack!” she screamed. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAKE HER FROM ME!”

“Put her back under,” Jack grunted. “I think we have the answers we need.”

The doctor approached the IV, and Angel realized that she only had a few moments left. She had no computer or ECHO. Just powers ill-suited to the purpose Jack wanted them to serve.

But she tried anyway. She arched her back and screamed as fire raced down her left side, power being forced through pathways it was never meant to take. She didn’t have the control to send specific words—hell, just reaching the right target was a challenge—but she hoped desperately that just that burst of feeling, that snapshot of pain, would be enough to tell Sasha what she needed to know before—

The cold saline hit her arm.

--July 7, Year 5--

Sasha hadn’t received a message from Angel in a week. 

They usually called each other every single day, and she hadn’t heard from Angel in a week. And it was Sasha’s birthday.

Things had settled down. Apparently Hyperion had decided Sasha wasn’t worth the trouble, so she was back to work, despite the strenuous objections of Fiona and Felix. But no word from Angel. Perhaps it was resentment that caused Sasha to forget her ECHO on the dashboard as she left for her shift at the radio station. It was certainly regret that she felt when she came back to see she had several messages. From Angel.

>>ERRCODE413: FILE CORRUPTED. MESSAGE SOURCE CORRUPTED

>>i’msorryilied to y 0u

>>s3341tay safe12883746018276510

>>Never speak to me again.

>>Error: You no longer have permission to contact this user. Delete user from contacts? Y/N

Sasha put down the ECHO, then picked it back up, as if the contents of the messages would magically change if she just refused to believe them. She couldn’t accept them. She couldn’t accept that Angel didn’t want to talk to her anymore. 

She tried to tap in a reply, to say it was all a glitch and please wouldn’t Angel just say she was okay. But all she got was another error message.

“No,” she said aloud. “No, no, no!”

“What?” Fiona called over her magazine. “ECHO on the fritz?”

Sasha impatiently pushed her tears back into her eyes. 

“Nothing!”

“Ah,” Fiona nodded wisely. “So, looooove problems.” 

“Shut up!” Sasha yelled. “Just shut up! You’re always talking to me like I’m a kid—like I’m still twelve or something! It’s not a love problem! Just because you can’t possibly conceive of anyone having real problems because you’re as shallow as a goddamn teaspoon—“

“That’s not fair!” Fiona stood up abruptly, letting the magazine fall to the floor.

“Oh yeah?” Sasha snapped. “You don’t have dreams. You’re content to stay on this goddamn rock forever. Well, Angel understood me, she understood me, and she, she…”

Sasha realized, to her great consternation, that she was crying.

“Whatever,” she muttered. “Just, whatever.”

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?” Fiona folded her arms. “It’s definitely something serious if you’re yelling at me.” She drummed her fingers. “It’s Angel, isn’t it?”

Sasha curled up into the fetal position on the floor. She didn’t keep crying. She just stared at the wall. Crying seemed like a waste. She barely noticed when Fiona sat down next to her, rubbing her back awkwardly.

Angel cried the first time they talked, really talked. Sasha squeezed her fingernails into her palms. Angel had trusted her. Which made her messages so much more of a gut punch. After all, Sasha didn’t care if someone she barely knew asked not to talk to her ever again. Hell, she was on plenty of “Banned For Life” lists. 

Betrayal hurt worse than any bullet or skag bite, and no one sold bandages for it. 

——

“You awake, Angel?”

Angel opened her bleary eyes. Her head pounded, and she could feel it was swathed in bandages. She reached up to touch it, but Jack gently nudged her hand back to her side. 

“You’ve had a pretty nasty surgery,” he told her. “How about you just rest for a bit.”

Angel tried to remember Jack saying anything about surgery, but drew a blank. In fact, she couldn’t remember any of the usual rigamarole leading up to an operation—no doctors, no prepping, no going under. Just—nothing.

She was vaguely aware that panic would be a reasonable response, but her emotions were dulled, as if they reached her through a fog. And she couldn’t breathe—or no, she could, there was just… something at her neck. 

“What happened?” she groaned.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Jack asked.

Angel frowned. She didn’t quite know. Her memories were a jumble, and she didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious.

“I…” she trailed off. Jack looked at her expectantly, and Angel’s mind raced to produce a satisfactory answer.

“Let’s start with this,” Jack decided. He put some sort of metal ring on her finger. “What’s your favorite fruit?”

“Strawberry.” The ring flashed green, and Jack nodded.

“How many people do you maintain direct contact with on Pandora?”

“The four hunters who found the Vault of the Destroyer. Head Scientist Erkins at Eridian Research Substation 06. Marcus Kincaid. And…” Angel blinked. It was a very short list, one that she knew she had completed. The little bit of doubt at the back of her head grew quieter by the second.

“No one else?” 

Angel shook her head. No, there was no one else.

Jack nodded decisively.

“Right. Well, y’see, we found an…irregularity in your brain. We had to go in and fix it. You may experience some memory loss.”

“What about my neck?” Angel asked. It was undeniable now—there was something wrapped around it.

“Well, pumpkin, you know how your spinal implants help you integrate your powers with technology?” Jack threw his arms out as if gesturing to a grand gathering of people. “This will help you do that even better!”

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” Angel whispered.

Jack waved her words away. “You’ll get used to it.”

Chapter Text

It had been six months since Angel had said goodbye. Two months of futile daily messages to an account that no longer wanted them. Two more months of only attempting contact every week. And another two months of not touching her ECHO, not even to use the ECHOnet, because just the touch of the device filled her with guilt and anger.

It was Angel’s birthday.

“You okay?” Wave asked Sasha. “You seem down.”

“Fine,” Sasha replied listlessly. 

She leaned into the mic. 

“That was the Thresher Thrashers with “F*CK HYPERION.” Up next: “Sandbag” by Pandoran Sunset.”

Sasha threw herself back into her chair with what would have been vehemence if she weren’t so tired. She crossed her arms and waited for the song to end, not even bothering to put on the headphones.

“Hey,” Wave said. “Shift’s almost over. Aren’t you gonna play that Elpis Indie song? For your anonymous friend?”

Sasha sniffled back tears and wiped her face impatiently.

“That’ll be the next one.”

The last chords of “Sandbag” faded into the night. 

“That was Pandoran Sunset with “Sandbag.” And now, for a yearly favorite. For someone who… no longer listens. But one last song for her birthday. “Wasteland Renegade” by Shooting the Sky.”

She threw down the headphones and turned to Wave.

“I quit.”

--January 1, Year 6--

The first clue came from some strawberry cake.

It was Angel’s birthday, and Jack let her have a small slice of cake. He didn’t make it himself, of course. A doctor delivered it via digistruction. Angel savored every little bite and wondered idly when she’d last gotten to have cake for her birthday—she would never be stupid enough to ask for it.

She thought back to her last birthday, when she turned 22—and realized she couldn’t remember that birthday.

Panicked, Angel trawled back in her memories for previous birthdays and drew blank after blank. Even landmark birthdays—18, 21—were a total void. It wasn’t that she couldn’t remember the details—the whole day was just gone. She couldn’t even remember the months of December through February of the year she’d turned 17. Yet before that, even her uncelebrated birthdays stood out in eidetic Technicolor.

Jack had told her that she may experience some memory loss. But why would it be centered around birthdays?

Angel knew the expected pattern of memory loss from basic brain surgery. She hadn’t lost these memories. They’d been taken from her.

Angel set down the cake—it left a bad taste in her mouth—and opened her computer to access her old neuroscience diagrams. She turned on another monitor and pulled up hacked schematics of her new implants.

She swore precisely as she compared those blueprints to a brain diagram.

Anger coursed through her. Self-directed anger. How could she have ever let herself think that things were getting better with Handsome Jack? Those little wires weren’t designed to remove a tumor after all. They reached probing fingers into her hippocampus, snatching memories and yanking them out.

Angel wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth in her chair, staring blankly at the screen.

Why had Jack taken her birthdays? And, more importantly, what else had he taken?

Angel rushed to the trash can and vomited up the bites of cake.

--February 14, Year 6--

“Great job on that one,” Fiona praised, patting Sasha on the back. “Chump never even noticed me.”

Sasha smiled in her best facsimile of pride.

“Yes,” Felix agreed, “your work is becoming quite useful.”

It was more of a compliment than he’d ever given her about her radio work. Sasha doubted he’d ever bothered to lift a finger to turn the radio dial to HPUR. 

“We’re raking in, like, twice as much as we used to,” added Fiona as Felix walked out to go pick up groceries. “Told you you’d be more helpful as a full-time fingersmith.”

Fiona tried hard to hide her emotions beneath a condescending smirk, but Sasha could read pride stamped clear as day across her face. Sasha used to chase her family’s pride with an insatiable hunger, taking on whatever pastime she thought would bring her praise. Now, even the most glowing compliments passed through her, through a hole that the radio station once filled and could never fill again.

“Somebody’s cheerful,” Fiona commented sarcastically. “C’mon, we made bank tonight. Why the long face?”

Sasha exhaled and flopped down on the couch.

“I want more than this,” she told Fiona. “More than this stupid rock and skulking in its shadows for a living. You and Felix and the caravan used to be enough for me, but now…”

Fiona crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe in a manner that carefully indicated she couldn’t care less. Sasha felt a careless stab of anger.

“We’re not enough for you. Because you talked to some chick on the ECHOnet for five minutes,” Fiona said sardonically.

Sasha scowled, more at herself than anyone.

“I remember this phase,” Fiona sighed. “You’ll get over it. Take your big sister’s advice: don’t base any of your happiness on relationships. They come and go and bring nothing but trouble.”

Sasha snorted. “Where’d you get that from? You been talking to my marks?” She jutted out her chin defiantly. “I’m not like you, Fiona. I don’t just have one night stands under a false name and then leave cuz I’m scared of commitment.”

Fiona’s ears turned red. “Scared of commitment? Who was committing to diving in dumpsters for scraps for two while you were still in diapers? Getting attached is only ever gonna get you hurt, and I don’t want that to happen. Doesn’t mean you have to get pissy at me cuz you can’t get over something that wasn’t even real to begin with.”

There was no energy left to argue with. All Sasha was was a hollowed shell.

“Whatever,” she sighed. Fiona’s expression changed from annoyance to concern. “I’m over her, okay, Fi?” 

“Oh, Sash,” Fiona sighed. “I’m the one person you could never lie to.”

Chapter Text

Angel’s death had always been on the calendar. It was as inevitable as Mercenary’s Day or a dentist appointment for normal people. So she didn’t feel any fear as she watched the Vault Hunters try their hardest to kill her. Or no—she felt the same fear that she’d felt for years, the same inevitable sadness thudding deep in her chest with every beat of her heart. 

The Eridium injectors hurt as they tore themselves from her body. As they did so, Angel got the unmistakable feeling that she was forgetting something. But she couldn’t be forgetting something. She’d gone over this plan a thousand times. 

She had a song going through her head, a song that she didn’t know, a song of slow guitar and haunting vocals singing words that slipped away like water if she tried to grasp them. Its rhythm was punctuated by gunshots and her father’s screams, and every verse came with a bass line of agony as the Eridium drained away.

The song was still playing as she floated to the ground. It was so beautiful. And it was gone.

Chapter Text

“Hey.”

Rhys’s head snapped up. Exhaustion was etched in his dark, hollowed eyes that reflected the light of his computer screen with an almost manic glint. His tie lay haphazardly across his shoulders, and his rumpled sleeves were rolled up to reveal ink and silver engraving spiraling up his arms. His fashion got a bit sloppier for every day he had to prove himself with substance rather than style—an alien concept to an ex-Hyperion, Sasha thought cynically. 

Rhys’s forefinger tapped tirelessly against the desk. “Hey yourself,” he replied, rubbing his hands over his face. Sasha noticed several empty Atlas coffee cups spilling out of the wastebasket and across the floor.

“You’re killing the environment with these things,” she remarked, tossing one into the trash. “Ever heard of fair trade? Biodegradable cups?”

“I’ve had more important things to worry about than my carbon footprint,” Rhys said stiffly, his tone softened by a barely-suppressed smile. 

It was adorable how hard Rhys tried to hide his thoughts, even though he was the most open book Sasha had ever read. It was one of the reasons why she trusted him.

Well, mostly trusted him.

“It’s been a long… I don’t even know,” Rhys continued. “How long has it been since Helios fell?”

Sasha sat down on the desk and closed the computer. Rhys blinked owlishly. 

“You’ll go blind in the other eye with this thing. What are you working on?”

“Oh, n-nothing much, just, uh,”

“Rhys.” Sasha glared at him. 

“Well, ah,” Rhys looked rather sheepish, “I might have found a bunch of Eridium, and…”

Sasha crossed her arms.

“And?”

“It’s from Hyperion,” Rhys mumbled into his hands. “On a super secret bunker. Where they did evil stuff. I don’t know what, but it was definitely evil.”

Sasha raised a calculating eyebrow. 

“And?”

Rhys sighed like a deflating balloon.

“And it’s valuable, and we need it for weapons research, and I took a loan from some shady Maliwan exec for seed money, so…”

“We invested two million dollars,” Sasha said incredulously. “How many buckets of deluxe ice cream have you been buying?”

“Okay, first of all, I limit myself to one tub every two weeks. And two million is peanuts to big corporations.”

“I’m glad it’s peanuts to someone, Mr. Ten Million Dollars,” Sasha said, rolling her eyes.

“Is August ever gonna stop that?” Rhys groaned. “Are you ever gonna stop that?”

“Not a chance.” Sasha leaned closer to him over the desk. “Here’s the deal, and I’m a shareholder, so you have to take it,” she said decisively. “Rhys, you may be a corporate bootlicker-turned-bootwearer, but you’re not a bad person. Which is why I think you should go get that rid-rock.”

Tension slid off of Rhys’s shoulders, and he sat up a bit straighter.

“Well, I don’t need your approval, but…uh, thanks, that means a—“

“If,” Sasha held up a finger, “I come with you.”

Rhys stared at her.

“What? Why?”

“Who else is gonna keep you in check? Besides, I spent years reporting on this stuff for the radio. May as well see how the sausage is made, right?”

Rhys made a halfhearted attempt at re-tying his tie. 

“Well, uh, happy to have you on board, then!”

“I’m not on board with—this.” Sasha gestured to the Atlas trappings on the walls.

Rhys smirked. “Yeah you are. You said it yourself, remember? Shareholder Sasha.”

October 8, Year 9

“Holy shit,” Sasha muttered as the buzzard crested a peak and the dig site was laid out before them.

“Holy shit is right,” Rhys sighed, almost proudly, as if he had hoped that Sasha would have that reaction. 

Sasha had seen pictures of the site, but that didn’t compare to seeing it from the air.

The purple mineral dyed every inch of soil and ran in rivulets toward the Slab camp. Sasha could make out some primitive tents erected where the Slabs had been mining. It was a busted pipe, Rhys had explained: the mainline had burst, and by then, Handsome Jack was a short time from death, so no one had bothered to stop all the Eridium from flowing through the crack. Apparently, there was a huge deposit of it underground, some still in liquid form. Hyperion had been funneling massive amounts of the mineral to this bunker. Rhys explained that he was still running a decryption program on its system to find out why.

“We’ve started in on the pure stuff, the stuff by the bunker,” Rhys told her. “We just don’t have a way to get at the stuff that’s soaked into the dirt. Yet.” He gestured to a huge fallen, sharp-edged disk of dark metal studded with red circles. “That’s the remains of a top-line defense robot. Whatever Jack was keeping here, he wanted it protected.”

Sasha shivered when Rhys called the tyrant “Jack.” It reminded her too painfully that the two of them used to be on a first-name basis.

The buzzard began to descend over the ruined Hyperion structure. Atlas engineers were already gathered around a shaft that had been drilled through a solid column of Eridium. Sasha noticed Lorelei lying flat on her stomach, tossing rocks down the shaft as she used a flashlight to try to see the bottom.

“What’s the word?” Rhys asked breezily as he strode off the buzzer. Sasha made a face at his back—she hated when he used his corporate voice.

“Bloody puzzle,” Lorelei replied, not looking up. “Sonar shows two pockets of liquid: one in the center, where we expected, and one near the bottom, where it shouldn’t be.”

“Define shouldn’t,” Sasha said.

“Somewhere between astronomically improbable and impossible,” Lorelei grunted, tossing another pebble. “Eridium just don’t form like that. It’s a rare beast, but it’s got very specific rules. ’S why we waited till you got here.”

“And because I specifically asked you to wait for me?” Rhys reminded.

Lorelei rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that too. I suppose.”

Rhys rubbed his hands together. 

“Get us some harnesses,” he ordered a nearby soldier. “Let’s get digging.”

When they reached the bottom, Sasha was glad for her hazmat suit—a thin layer of congealing Eridium coated the floor. Purple dust floated in the air from all the drilling, and Sasha couldn’t help but keep a paranoid eye at the readout in the corner of her vision to make sure her respirator wasn’t failing.

“Head on through.” Lorelei gestured down a new tunnel lit by eerie purple light. “Tug once on your rope for backup. Tug twice and we’ll yank you back.”

Sasha nodded.

The tunnel wasn’t long. It sloped down to a small pool of liquid Eridium. The liquid was far more dynamic than its solid, crystalline form; it danced and darted with shapes of silver and magenta. Sasha approached the pool—no bigger than a pair of bathtubs—and crouched down. She couldn’t make anything out in the opaque liquid.

“There’s something in there,” Lorelei’s voice crackled over the communicator. “Just reach in and grab it. Those suits can take quite the beating.”

Sasha dipped her hand into the pool hesitantly. Nothing bad happened, so she plunged her arm in—and promptly yanked it out with an undignified squeak.

She had been expecting metal. But the thing in the Eridium was soft and pliable. Like organic tissue. An animal, maybe? No, it would have corroded long ago.

“Okay,” she muttered, and waded in. She knelt down and found the shape of something human-sized at the bottom of the shallow pool of Eridium. It was human-shaped, too. Sasha hooked both arms under the body and heaved.

It was a woman. A woman not wearing a hazmat suit, who therefore should have corroded long ago. Sasha rolled her out of the pool and onto the floor of the tunnel. The Eridium began to melt around her.

The woman was stark white next to the brilliant saturation of the Eridium. Her eyes were sunken and her cheekbones were sharp, lending her a skull-like visage, and her skin was pale with the clench of death—yet despite that, her features were delicate. Beautiful, even in death. She was also naked—any clothes would have corroded. Thing was, so would any standard human parts. Which led Sasha to the conclusion that this was not a standard woman. The white glow along her left side confirmed this theory.

“Rhys,” Sasha said into the microphone wired to the inside of her helmet, “I found a dead Siren.”