Ashen Wastes: The Road to Nowhere?

[Dr. McNinja]

"Winch."

Deathtrap handed Gaige the device. The Mechromancer then pressed it against an opening, hearing it click satisfactorily. 

"Screwdriver."

Deathtrap's hand transformed into a miniature drill. Not combat-ready yet, (if used in combat it would probably shatter and cover DT in tiny steel splinters and damage most of his systems pretty permanently) but Gaige was working on it. For now, it was a good replacement for the screwdriver she always seemed to lose. 

Deathtrap leaned in and began screwing in the winch onto the device when the pair heard a shout.

"...hell is...od, FUCK!"

Gaige and DT glanced at each other, concerned. Out of nowhere, she felt a hand on the back of her neck.

"Hey, girlie," a psycho's voice chanted, "Wanna play?'

Gaige seized a wrench and spun around, swinging it. She then drew her smig and unloaded a clip at the voice, pumping bullet holes into the stony surface. Her breathing became heavy as she snatched another clip from her backpack and let the expended one drop to the floor. She slammed the clip into the smig and stared down the iron sights.

"I've got some games we could play-"

Gaige felt a tingling on the inside of her stockings. She jumped and aimed her gun side to side.

"And we could get my friends to play, too!"

"DEATHTRAP!" Gaige screamed.

The robot's eye turned bright red and it drew its digistruct claws. With a distorted roar, Deathtrap skewered the stool that Gaige was sitting on earlier. Splinters flew like wood shrapnel, covering Gaige's clothes with sawdust. 

DT was about to completely obliterate the stool when Gaige laid her hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa boy, whoa," the girl panted, "Sorry, you don't have to- It's okay. You can relax. I just-"

Deathtrap nodded. His eye turned blue again. 

"Ugh, now I don't have a stool..."

DT whimpered and lowered his body. He clumsily tried to use his digistruct claws to pick up the wooden shards and piece the stool together again in vain. The sight of a large death machine bewildered by the stool that it smashed, and trying to piece it together, was adorable enough to lift Gaige's spirits.

"Heh, DT, don't worry about it. You know I work standing anyway."

Deathtrap whimpered again, lowering his head.

"No, no. It's not your fault," the Vault Hunter sighed, "You were just doing what I-"

"...piece of DOGSHIT!"

Gaige turned to listen to the noise next door. It seemed that the noise of Gaige's smig had not caught her neighbor's attention at all.

The Vault Hunter hopped onto her bed. She couldn't help but wonder why those things bothered her now. Back on Pandora, she had no qualms about killing those bandits. She didn't mind blood and guts landing on her clothes. It actually made her look more bad-ass. The best friends that Gaige had were mass murderers and bloodthirsty psychopaths.

So why did these memories bother her now?

"...too weak!"

Her neighbor was screaming again. Deathtrap cocked his head to listen. Gaige scratched her nose.

"Maybe we should talk to her? See what's going on? It might be nice to chat with someone else in this camp."

Deathtrap's lenses focused, as if to signify glee. With a squeal, Deathtrap digistructed two mugs of hot cocoa. Gaige laughed and took one, feeling its warmth in her palms. She took a sip. Just like how Dad used to make it.

"Yeah, let's go talk to her," she mumbled into the drink.

She grabbed the other cocoa from Deathtrap and opened the door. She quietly tip-toed towards her neighbor's room and knocked on the door. Even now, she was only reassured by the fact that her Jakobs shotgun was slung around her shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?" she called out, "I've got some hot cocoa. You wanna talk?"