“This is bad…” Daxter growled as yet another shuttle came down behind the lines of those who served that evil Mayor. If that shuttle contained anything like the others had, then another 30 or so bodies had been added to the opposing side, all of them armed and ready for combat. Daxter and the Orphans may have had more than 2,000 people on their side, but most of them were in no condition to fight. Hell, he would not have sent the younger members of his gang into the fray to act as they did unless things were truly dire, which, of course, was the case. People on his side were dropping one by one and their biggest asset, Axton the Outworlder, was nowhere to be seen.
“Damn it… did he turn on us?” Daxter muttered as he looked around one last time before preparing to call a retreat. Before he could do so, he heard the telltale sound of metal being tossed around and slammed into other materials. He knew that Stebbs had a few War Suits of his own, but he had assumed that they were all empty, hollow husks that were devoid of innards. This noise could only come from something like a War Suit, but then again, wasn’t the mechanic bay where Stebbs kept the Suits off in another direction?
“Well, I guess we have to call it quits if they brought a War Suit to the table…”
Daxter’s mood fell to the floor and he was about to order a surrender when the body of one of the inbred thugs flew by and almost knock him on his ass. Looking up, Daxter saw a War Suit that was most certainly not a standard unit. It seemed to be, at least by outward appearances, a hodge-podge of various bits and bobs from around 4 or 5 other War Suits from various different manufacturers. Unlike every other War Suit that ever was, this machine had not a single speck of paint on it and was wielding a sword and board combo in its two hands.
As the large machine advanced, Daxter felt pure fear. He was half expecting this Suit to have thrown the thug at him as an attempt to kill him. After all, Stebbs didn’t care one bit about how many goons got killed off during this fight, so why would he worry about friendly fire when it meant killing the leader of the rebellion that threatened him so?
Time seemed to slow down as the ‘Light’ War Suit moved closer, but to Daxter’s good fortune the machine was fired upon by a number of Stebbs’ own cronies.
“Could they be suffering from an internal power struggle?”
The unpainted War Suit swung its huge sword and either sliced the thugs to bits of pulverized them with the sheer mass of the thick, unrefined weapon before swatting a few of the more suicidal goons away with a shield bash. Those that were hit by the shield flew off as if they were hit by a van moving at over 65 miles an hour (more than 104.607 kph for those who live in places where the metric system is used), throwing two of them into some exposed rebar and impaling them on it. The third person who was hit flew over to Daxter’s feet and moaned in pain.
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The War Suit walked up to Daxter who instinctively backed away and raised the heavy blaster pistol he had in his hands. If he was going to die, he would die standing and fighting, but as things progressed it became clear that he would not need to do either. The unpainted monstrosity of metal raised it massive tower shield and brought it down on the head of the collapsed thug, sending gore in two main directions.
Daxter’s gaze shifted from the Suit to the dead man and back again. This was pure intimidation at its finest; Stebbs was now just fucking with him! At least, Daxter thought so until the machine’s loudspeakers began to crackle with static before giving way to a familiar and welcome voice.
“Sorry I’m late to the party, Dax. Where do you need me?”
…
Axton popped open the cockpit and looked down towards the first real friendly NPC he had met in this colony. Daxter’s face changed from one of fear to one of jubilation as soon as Axton got the loudspeakers to stop glitching out, and when he showed his face the man’s exuberance seemed to reach all-new levels. Now the two were face to face and Axton was looking to get a few new quest objectives; anything to help the cause.
“God damn is it good to see you in that thing!” the NPC micro faction leader shouted as he punched Franken playfully.
“Careful, now,” Axton replied. “I didn’t get the chance to paint this thing, let alone get rid of all the sharp edges and the occasional bit of rust. Don’t want to get tetanus, now do you?”
“Joker.” Daxter replied before his face began to fall.
“What’s up?” Axton asked, fearing that the quest was about to end in abject failure.
“We’re running low on people and Stebbs just keeps getting new bodies to throw at us. As much as I hate to say it, unless we destroy that shuttle over there,” Daxter pointed at the shuttle that was flying off into the sky, “we have no chance of even holding on to what we have now. As for winning? That is nothing but a pipe dream until that shuttle is out of the picture for good.”
Axton turned Franken to look over to the landing platform that was protected by a rough total of between ninety and a hundred and twenty or so people, including a few in powered armor. He would have to cut through several active battlegrounds just to reach the landing zone, which would put him in conflict with another hundred or so people. Still, they had not even been able to scratch Franken’s armor and even if they managed to heavily damage it Axton had another surprise waiting in store for those who thought they had won.
Axton closed up Franken’s cockpit to the outside and fiddled with the controls on the loudspeaker until he got the output he wanted. Opening up his own Player Menu, he scrolled through his list of stored songs that he had downloaded and put one on track.
As Axton and Franken surged forwards, the sound of what seemed like a ukulele-type instrument began to fill the airwaves of friend and foe alike. Axton felt a smile cross his face as he and his big, stompy robot moved into active combat, a modified mix of the songs “Ready to Die” and “Party Party Party” filled him with renewed energy. It was time to make some noise.