Brick and Mordecai... and Talon

Bits of bandit still hang in the air—meat confetti slowly drifting down in a red mist, the wet slap of a half-severed arm landing on a busted crate beside me—when I hear the voices.

“Dayum!”

“That was awesome.”

I grin before I even turn. My HUD flickers to life with bright neon indicators, highlighting the two figures approaching through the dust and debris.

MORDECAI

A.K.A. "THE BLOOD-EYED SNIPER"

Class: Hunter

Level: 69 (Nice.)

Status: Sober-ish. Dangerous regardless.

Specialties: Headshots, long-range kills, spicy sarcasm

Companion: Talon (Not a pet. A partner. A badass.)

**** Tolerance: Unholy

Kill Streak Record: 44 headshots in under 2 minutes (witnesses still screaming)

Quote: “Don’t blink. I already shot you.”

Mood: High-functioning misanthrope

Threat Level: INVISIBLE ****

Fun Fact: Probably smells like whiskey and gun oil… and regrets.

BRICK

A.K.A. "THE ONE-MAN WRECKING CREW"

Class: Brawler

Level: He can't count that high.

Status: Punches tanks. For cardio.

Height: 6’10” (98% muscle, 2% rage)

Fist Velocity: Classified by Dahl Corp

Armor: LOL

Allergies: None. He beat them out of himself.

Quote: “MY GUN IS TOO SLOW, SO I BROUGHT THESE!” (flexes violently)

Threat Level: KISS YOUR SPINE GOODBYE

Mood: Sweaty, ready, and slightly gassy

Fun Fact: Once bench-pressed a Skag… and then ate it.TALON

TALON

A.K.A. "THE SKY SLAYER"

Species: Badass Avian

Affiliation: Ride or Die for Mordecai

Flight Speed: Classified

Claw Sharpness: 11/10

Training: None. Just born this terrifying.

Feeding Habit: Bandit eyeballs. No, really.

Quote : “SCREEEEEEEEE! (Roughly translated) BLEED, MOTHERF#&KER!”

Mood: Ravenous

Threat Level: SKYBOUND SLAUGHTERBEAST

Fun Fact: Has pooped mid-divebomb and still made the kill.

Brick’s already grinning like a maniac, “That was insane, Mordy,” he says, gesturing at the carnage left behind by RuntBot’s surprise suicide bombing. “Dude popped like a meat piñata!”

Mordecai chuckles low, lifting his goggles and offering me a nod of respect. Talon circles once overhead before dive-bombing gracefully onto Mordy’s armored arm with a shriek. “Lilith’s gonna love that. Can’t make you a Crimson Raider officially without her say-so, but after that little fireworks show? You’re basically pre-approved.”

He pauses, looking for a better phrase. “Can’t wait to see that action skill in—”

“...action?” Brick interrupts helpfully.

They both laugh. I holster my pistol, pulse still steady but ready. “Appreciate it. But that outpost up ahead,” I say, nodding toward the cluster of makeshift barricades and scrap towers just beyond the ridge, “isn’t gonna liberate itself.”

The flames licking the top of the outpost’s command shack flicker like a dare. My HUD pings movement, turret rotation. They know we’re coming.

Brick cracks his knuckles so loud it sounds like firecrackers. “Now you’re speakin’ my language.”

Mordecai digs into his satchel and tosses something. I clacks itself to my hip. my HUD auto-tags it:

NEW SHIELD MOD ACQUIRED:

“Boom Shell” – 45% chance to unleash a concussive nova on shield break. Also loud as hell.

Brick follows up with a thick canister of metal and bolts.

NEW GRENADE MOD ACQUIRED:

“Meat Shower” – High-yield cluster detonation. Gore radius: Maximum.

With their nod, we’re locked and loaded. I pull my pistol, finger brushing the trigger, when something in the corner of my HUD flashes.

A beat-up speaker pole. Rusted. Crackling. Forgotten by anyone sane.

ENVIRONMENTAL OBJECT DETECTED – ACTION SKILL COMPATIBLE

I smirk. “Oh hell yes.”

I reach out, activating my power.

The speaker shudders, metal flexing, and then transforms—a blur of scrap and sparks folding in on itself until it hits the dirt beside me with tank treaded tires for legs, razor-sharp box frame sliders for arms, and a glowing subwoofer where its chest should be. It lets out a distorted bass growl that shakes my ribcage.

NEW COMPANION: BeatdownBot

Status: Hostile Audio Solutions Armed

Primary: Sonic Bladearms

Secondary: Bass-Drop Shockwave

Mood: FILTHY DROP INCOMING

“Let’s go, fellas,” I mutter, eyes locked on the smoke rising from the outpost’s twisted metal walls.

Brick is already sprinting, howling like a war god. Mordecai draws Monique, his scope flashing. Talon takes off with a scream that cuts through the sky like a knife.

And behind me, BeatdownBot drops the bass.

The outpost is about to hear us coming.

And they won’t hear anything after.

The moment I crest the ridge, my HUD lights up like a Christmas tree laced with TNT.

MISSION OBJECTIVE:

RE-CAPTURE BANDIT OUTPOST

Difficulty: Brutal

Enemy Count: 20-30 Confirmed

Rewards: XP + Epic Loot + Crimson Raider Reputation + Carnage

Status: LET’S FUCKING GO

A digitized guitar riff rips through my glasses like a prelude to ****.

I blink once—sweat and dust smeared on my cheek—and then we’re in motion.

Brick charges in first, fists clenched, screaming like a prehistoric freight train. He grabs a bandit by the skull and literally pops his head like a stress ball—splattering the two poor bastards behind him in a wash of skull fragments and brain pulp. He kicks one in the chest so hard I swear I see ribs shoot out the guy’s back. The scream of the bandit holding the meat-encased ribcage confirms it.

Mordecai snipes from a ledge, clean and surgical. One shot, one kill. A skull explodes in a pink mist. Another shot—clean through the throat—makes a bandit gurgle his last breath as Talon swoops in, grabbing another, gouging eyes, ripping out its tongue, and then dropping him hard, bursting like grimy confetti.

BeatdownBot launches into the chaos with a bass-boosted scream. His sonic pulses hit like shockwaves—skin blistering and sloughing clean off, leaving bandits stumbling with raw muscle and nerve endings exposed, dropping to the floor, dead. His bladed arms cleave through limbs, joints separating with cartoonish ease. Fingers. Feet. Faces.

I move in behind them, my pistol hot in my hand. My shield takes a few slugs—glowing and sparking like a Fourth of July fire hazard—it's an unnecessary item for me though, but it adds to the experience I'm looking for. If I could bleed here, I’m bleeding adrenaline. One of my bullets punches clean through a bandit’s jaw and blasts his lower mandible into the dirt—the scream that follows is gurgled, wet, pitiful… before the next shot ends him.

BeatdownBot slams into a heavy, then starts beeping. He’s leaking oil and gore from his vents. “ULTIMATE DROP INCOMING,” he screeches—and then detonates.

The blast peels the skin off the nearest five bandits in a smoking radius, their muscle and meat cooked red as ribs on a grill before they burst like sausages. Blood hits the back of my glasses and the HUD wipes it clean with a flicker.

"God, I love this place," I mutter under my breath.

We’re down to the last three. I see them ahead, crouched behind sandbags and burning tires—wielding a Vladoff grenade launcher, shaking, high on some kind of stims. Their eyes are wild, mouths smeared with dirt and dried blood.

Then—

BOOM.

The sky explodes in flame.

A meteor of pure siren energy slams into the center of the outpost, sending a shockwave so intense it pushes the three of us back, our boots scraping lines before us. The three bandits—just gone—vaporized into blood vapor and scorched shadows on the cracked ground. Their launcher melts into slag.

Standing in the smoke, like a goddess birthed from a nuclear detonation, is Lilith.

Her red hair whips around her face like fire given form. Eyes burning gold. Lips curled in a smirk. Her tattoos glow across her bare arms and collarbones, siren energy thrumming like an engine beneath her skin.

She walks toward us, boots crunching bone and hot metal underfoot, power rippling around her like solar flares.

“Hey there, boys…” she says with a sly smile, her voice low, rich, amused. She looks me over from boots to sunglasses. “Who’s the new guy?”

I freeze. Lilith—fucking Lilith—just asked about me. My hud reads as she stares at me.

LILITH

A.K.A. "THE FIREHAWK"

Class: Siren

Level: What's beyond infinity??

Status: Legendary Crimson Raider? No.... Legendary Crimson Leader!

Abilities: Phasewalk, Flame Projection, Teleportation, Aerial ****

Affiliation: Crimson Raiders — Co-Founder

Tattoo Power Output: 117% and rising

Kill Count: Don’t ask unless you're flameproof

Threat Level: ****

Mood: Horny, but also lethal

Quote: "You gonna stare all day, or are we blowing shit up?"

“Uh,” I manage. “Name’s Joe. Vault hunter. New recruit.”

She raises an eyebrow. “The one with the build-a-bot powers?” She glances down at the crater where BeatdownBot exploded. A hand still twitches beside a detached speaker leg. “Nice touch.”

I try not to stare—but Jesus, she’s power in skin. Every muscle taut, her walk full of lethal grace. She could snap me in half and I’d probably thank her.

"Welcome to the Raiders," she says, her eyes glowing as she lifts a hand and offers it.

Her touch hums with heat and static, and I swear for a second I see stars—or maybe those are just the adrenaline withdrawals.

Behind her, Mordecai gives me a thumbs-up. Brick flexes for no reason.

I shake her hand and grin.

“Oh,” I say, voice low. “I’m just getting started.”