Jay woke up to the sound of metal clanking, scraping, and a high‑pitched electronic hum that drilled directly into his skull. For a moment, he wondered if this was Pandora trying to finish the job the skags started. Then the noise got closer.
Claptrap rolled into view—one wheel, two spindly arms, and a boxy body that screamed please don't kick me, I was built by the lowest bidder. It bounced slightly with each rotation, wobbling like its center of gravity was more of a suggestion than a rule.
Jay blinked hard. "No way."
The robot skidded to a halt, turned toward him, and waved both arms in a wide, excited arc.
"HIIII THERE, FUTURE MINION!" it chirped, voice loud enough to scare off wildlife.
Jay tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. "Oh god. It's you. It's actually you."
Claptrap rolled right up to Jay's face, close enough that Jay could see the reflection of his own eyebags in the robot's lens.
"WOW! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE!" Claptrap said cheerfully. "LIKE A GROWN MAN WHO LOST A FIGHT WITH GRAVITY AND THEN LOST A FIGHT WITH A CACTUS!"
Jay sighed. "Claptrap, what day is it?"
"THE DAY BEFORE THE BIG DAY! VAULT HUNTERS ARRIVE TOMORROW! I CAN'T WAIT TO HAVE MORE FRIENDS!"
Jay's stomach tightened.
"So… Borderlands One starts tomorrow," he murmured.
Jay explored the station's interior, leaning heavily on the wall when his leg twinged. Claptrap followed like a bright, loud shadow.
Eventually Jay found a cracked, half‑shattered mirror. The kind attached to a bathroom stall door.
He looked.
And froze.
His reflection stared back—but younger. Not a tired adult with stress lines and a normal twenty‑something's face. This was a teen. Seventeen at most.
"…That's me," he whispered. "But… not me."
Jay pressed both hands to the sink edge. "So first I die to a blender… then I get dumped on Pandora… and now I'm legally a minor again."
Claptrap helpfully added, "I'VE ALSO BEEN TOLD I HAVE THE MATURITY OF A MINOR!"
Jay didn't break the mirror. But it was close.
"Okay," Jay muttered, limping outside, "I need to register at the New‑U so I at least have respawn insurance."
The New‑U machine flickered to life.
PLEASE SUBMIT DNA SAMPLE.
He pressed his thumb to the reader.
It beeped.
ERROR: DNA NOT COMPATIBLE.
Another beep.
SECONDARY ERROR: REGISTRATION BLOCKED DUE TO UNPAID TAXES.
Jay stared. "…I've been alive here for one day. How do I already owe taxes?"
Claptrap slapped the side of the machine. "HYPERION TAXES EVERYTHING! EVEN YOUR BREATHING! ESPECIALLY YOUR BREATHING!"
"So no respawns," Jay summarized.
"No," the machine confirmed. "You currently have permadeath mode enabled."
Jay groaned. "Worst planet. Worst possible conditions."
Claptrap did a cartwheel and immediately fell over.
Jay sighed. "Worst robot too."
Jay settled under a piece of shade, health slowly ticking up thanks to the regeneration perk he'd slotted earlier. Each breath he took reminded him how battered his body still was—every muscle and joint felt like it had a story of pain to tell. He flexed his fingers, testing the sharp ache in his shoulders, and massaged his leg where a deep bruise throbbed with every heartbeat.
Claptrap attempted to dance nearby, glitching every few seconds, its one wheel spinning in erratic circles. Each hop and shimmy sent small clouds of dust into the air, adding a fine layer of grit over Jay's clothes and skin.
He watched the robot struggle to coordinate its movements, almost fascinating despite the annoyance. Claptrap tripped over a tiny rock, spun wildly, and screamed, "I'M OKAAAAY!"
Jay winced, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, I pity your mechanical chaos. I'm trying to heal here, and you're performing an interpretive dance of self-destruction."
Settling back, he took inventory of the small campsite he'd managed to cobble together. A few scraps of wood for a fire, a tin can filled with questionable water, and his echo device safely clipped to his belt. His HUD displayed the slow but steady health regeneration, the blinking skill tree icon reminding him that he had one skill point to assign. He considered putting it into a survival perk to enhance his natural recovery, his mind wandering to the future fights he'd have to endure.
Cortana's voice buzzed faintly through the echo device. "Jay… your condition requires careful management. The robot, while amusing, is a distraction."
Jay smirked faintly. "You could say that again."
As the sun began to dip, casting long shadows over the desert floor, Jay wrapped himself in a tattered blanket. He let himself relax for the first time since arriving on Pandora, listening to the faint whirring of Claptrap and the distant wind over the ridges. Tomorrow, he reminded himself, everything would change, and he needed to be ready.
Jay spent the rest of the day quietly scavenging for supplies, tending his injuries, and trying not to think about the fact that the first batch of Vault Hunters, including the bus‑bound Lilith, would arrive tomorrow. He activated the echo device to have Cortana hover beside him, offering advice and commentary.
"Jay," Cortana said, appearing in his HUD projection, "tomorrow everything changes. Your current goal is recovery and preparation. Avoid major events until the timeline begins."
Jay nodded, rubbing his leg. "Yeah. That's the plan."
Claptrap rolled around excitedly, oblivious to the gravity of the situation. Jay sighed, watching the desert sun sink lower.
Tomorrow, the Vault Hunters would arrive, the story would begin… and he needed to survive until then.
Jay remained at his makeshift camp as twilight deepened. The desert temperature dropped sharply, and each gust of wind carried abrasive sand that made the night feel even colder. He wrapped his tattered blanket tighter, wincing as it pressed against bruised muscles. His HUD blinked with reminders—one skill point available, current health mostly full, inventory mostly empty.
Claptrap had finally stopped his chaotic dancing and now sat spinning in place, humming a tune that grated on Jay's ears more than the wind. Despite this, there was an odd comfort in the familiar mechanical drone, a reminder that he wasn't entirely alone.
Through the echo device, Cortana's voice came through with her familiar calm and analytical tone, laced with her subtle wit and occasional gravitas that Jay remembered from her last days with the Master Chief. "Jay, focus on assessing your supplies. Prioritize hydration and caloric intake. Your physical recovery rate is insufficient for strenuous activity without rest. We'll need to be careful tonight."
"I get it," Jay muttered. "Eat, rest, don't get mauled, try not to trip over the robot. Got it."
Cortana's tone softened with measured empathy, maintaining that signature Halo 3 precision and intelligence. "Also, consider your skill point allocation. You may enhance your survival capabilities or increase regeneration efficiency. Beyond the Survivor branch, your HUD contains separate skill trees: Ruin Engine, Blink/Siren powers, and Body modifications. Each has unique abilities you can improve to expand your options. Let's be tactical, not impulsive."
Jay scrolled through his skill tree on the HUD. He hovered over the Survivor branch, eyeing a perk that would provide slow but steady health regeneration over time. A small smile crossed his face; it felt good to exert a tiny bit of control in an otherwise chaotic environment. With a tap, he assigned the skill point.
Satisfied, he leaned back and let his thoughts drift. He tried not to dwell on the inevitability of tomorrow's events. Instead, he focused on small, immediate goals: patching minor abrasions, arranging his few belongings, and keeping Claptrap from wandering too far into the shadows.
The robot, oblivious to the tension, continued muttering to itself. "DON'T WORRY! I'M WATCHING! EVERYTHING IS UNDER CONTROL! I CAN HEAR THINGS, SEE THINGS, AND POSSIBLY FEEL THINGS! WOOHOO!"
Jay groaned. "Remind me again why you're my companion."
Claptrap flailed his single arm dramatically. "BECAUSE I'M AWESOME! AND I'M YOUR FRIEND!"
Jay exhaled, letting his muscles relax slightly. "I'll give you awesome, sure. Friend? Debatable."
For a fleeting second, he toyed with the darkly tempting thought of using his revolver on the robot, just to shut it up, then immediately pushed the idea aside. Pandora didn't need more chaos than it already had.
Cortana spoke again through the echo device, her voice calm but carrying the weight of someone used to dire circumstances. "Jay, I have assessed the current situation. Your proximity to the New-U and lack of registrable status means tonight is crucial for preparation. Any misstep could be catastrophic. We must prioritize survival and efficiency, as I would have advised in the field with Chief. Additionally, consider how each skill tree could complement one another: the Ruin Engine tree can extend range and add material filters, Blink/Siren powers allow controlled teleportation and combat enhancements, and Body modifications improve endurance and resilience."
Jay rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm sitting here, not wandering into skag territory."
Hours passed. The sky darkened into a deep indigo, and the stars began to emerge, faint but constant. Jay listened to the desert night, Claptrap's occasional whirring, and the wind's eerie whistle across the ridges. He thought about what tomorrow would bring, about the Vault Hunters arriving, and the chaos that was guaranteed to follow.
With each passing minute, he felt the weight of survival pressing on him. He would need to conserve energy, plan his actions, and carefully manage the abilities he had only just begun to understand. His Ruin Engine would be useful, but for now, he focused on what he could control—rest, strategy, and preparation.
As he drifted toward a light doze, his mind replayed the day's events: discovering the mirror and his new age, the failure of the New-U, the strange but oddly comforting presence of Claptrap, and Cortana's guidance. Each fragment reminded him that despite the oddity and danger of his situation, he was not entirely without allies.
He closed his eyes, letting the chill seep into his bones and the desert silence fill his ears. Tomorrow would demand everything of him