The Birth of the Holy City

[ It is midnight. Were you sleeping? Gaige isn't. Gaige has been busy, and in the middle of the night, so excited she might as well be glowing, she has a very exciting update to give.

GUESS WHAT I MADE?

[ Gaige's soot smeared face, what appears to be a wooden bat over one shoulder - and behind her, there is a torn-up bit of forest illuminated in the half-light. Like something had torn it up.

In her hand is something, if a little bit, uh, rustic. Homemade. Artisinal. Grenade. It looks like it was hammered out by hand with odd bumps.

But it's most definitely a grenade. A little circle with a painted smiley face on it. ]

A fucking grenade! Bonafide to hurt that damn dragon when it shows up again.

[ Is it time for a demonstration? It's time for a demonstration. She lifts the grenade against her mouth, hooking her canine teeth against the pin and yanks it with a jerk free. Throwing up into the air as she swings the wooden bat like this was a game, so hard that the grenade goes flying. Through the air where she's aimed it at a tree.

And when it lands, it explodes in a thundering force. Fire balling, branches ripped off with tremendous power, the tree splintered into pieces that in the night air is a brilliant red glow of light.

And Gaige shrieks in excitement. ] Suck it, tree! Eat your fucking heart out. I'm the master of fire and death and teeny, tiny, bits of metal! You will bow before me! [ Give her a second - nothing seems to get her quite as high as that thrill of violence and explosions. Or a God complex, apparently.

But she sobers a second later, well, sort of. The bat resting on her shoulder over again, out of breath but undeniably pleased. ] I'll make 'em for anyone who wants it. It's insurance just in case that dragon decides to get mouthy. Might need a bit more help collecting some ingredients.

Gaige, out!

[ Tap. Tap, tap. There's her face, squinting into the screen as she gets the thing working. Then pulls back a little bit further to get comfortable. Eyes green and bright, smile that bright side of manic. Beaming excitedly, though.

She's determined to carry on, in that way particularly determined 20 year olds who haven't worked out they're mortal always are. ] Is this thing working? Eesh, this is slower than my mom's old cleaning droid. Hellllllllo.

Well, whatever. Look - here's the thing. This place sucks, it's got no tech, no robots, no guns. Next you'll be telling me people don't know what cars are. Guess that means no Vault Hunters either. So here's the deal:

You hire me. I kill stuff for you. I don't charge extra for severed limb collection or trophy collection either. If you need a group of bandits or something, slaughtered, I even do group discounts. Easy, right?

I accept payments in: [ She counts them off on her fingers. Which she has to double up because her robotic arm only has three fingers and a thumb on that hand. ] Money, duh. Weapons. The promise that the person will die in a really cool way if I explode their head. Severed limbs. Dangerous and unknown elements or ores. Ammunition. Unused organs if you're really stuck. Doctors always want those. Robotic parts. Especially the robotic parts.

My reference is that guy Rhys. Tall dude. Nerdy. Weird tie. He comes from our planet, Pandora. He's seen my wanted posters, knows all the stories, he can vouch for my reputation. I get the job done, full satisfaction guarantee, if it breathes, I can kill it, maim it, or steal from it.

You betray me to a shitty job though, that's a free for all. I'll take the money out of your corpse. Cool? Cool.

Oh, and I'm Gaige. Sup! [ She finger guns the screen, and kills the feed. ]