Despite fleeing the colony in defeat, Axton and the rebel NPCs let out a massive cheer as they saw the transport smash into the planet’s surface and send chunks of flaming debris flying into the Mayor’s compound. They may have lost this battle, but with the destruction of the transport, they now had a decent chance of winning the war. Stebbs now had no more troops to come to his aid if and when those currently on the ground were all dealt with, which for a Player like Axton meant that if he took an area then unless more people were sent to retake it then it would remain under rebel control for good.

However, he still had to deal with the damage Franken had sustained during the whole fight, which included an inoperable right arm and numerous centimeter-deep ‘dents’ in the armor, courtesy of the disruptor rifles Stebbs had illegally acquired from the Empire. Thankfully, Axton was not dumb enough to have not considered that Franken would take damage in the fights it was designed for. All he needed was a frame to mount Franken on and he could get a decent amount of work done in a relatively short period of time.

While the rebels did not have an assembly frame of their own for Franken to be mounted on, Axton had enough scrap on his person to construct one of his own, more or less. It would not be beautiful, rather it would look more like a tacky metal modern art sculpture, but it would get the job done and that was all that was needed. A few welds and a bit of wire and cabling here and there and the improvised assembly frame was ready for Franken’s presence, which Axton quickly arranged.

From there, it was only a matter of replacing the external armor plating just like that you would be unable to tell that Franken had even gone into battle. Of course, the right arm was still shot to hell, but there wasn’t much Axton could do about that with the tools and resources on hand. He had the parts needed to lock the arm in place and keep it from flailing around, but if there was one form of salvage that he lacked it was limbs for his War Suit. He was miffed that an arm was rendered immobile, but it was much better than having only one leg.

Axton looked over his Suit, trying to figure out how to make things work, when Daxter came up and offered his two cents.

“Why not just put a smaller shield on the left forearm and let the hand carry the sword? After that, just mount some ranged weapon or another on the right arm and call it a day. Maybe add a smaller shield over that to give it some armor too?”

Axton had to give the NPC credit. He did help. A lot. With a lot of things. Actually, without Daxter’s help, he would likely still be stuck in that scrap yard and possibly even running on fumes at this point. Daxter didn’t deserve this place, nor did he deserve what Axton figured awaited him if and when the Colonial Authority came to pick up the pieces. Maybe he could…?

…

“You sons of bitches! How the hell did that happen?! This is what I pay you for; what I have to pay you for?! Why should I have to pay you for that mistake that you made, huh?! Son of a bitch!” Stebbs shouted as he pointed at the flaming wreckage of a large transport that continued to burn late into the night. He was pissed, and rightly so. After all, he was now being billed for the transport and the lost ammunition, fuel, and people that were aboard. This, all of it, was taking an absolutely massive chunk out of his bank account.

He couldn’t have given a rat’s ass about the rebellion a while ago, just wanting to see it done and dealt with before an audit came. Now, however? Now he was out for blood. How dare those ungrateful country bumpkins do this to him?! He was their one ticket off this rock and while yes, they would go to be slaves in the Empire, that was better than staying on this dumb backwater for the rest of their lives, right?

Sure, they may get sent to a mine and get rock-lung, but that wasn’t his problem, right? And yes, the women might be used as toys for nobility and the men might have to fight to the death in bloody games, but at least they would have some excitement in their lives! By selling them into slavery, he was doing them a favor while earning a little money for himself. It was a win-win-win, no matter how you sliced it!

And now… now these damn fools bit the hand that fed them. He had been merciful up till now, but now he was ready to give each and every one of them exactly the kind of hell he felt was acceptable. No more slavery, no more pleasure, no more of any of that. He was gonna capture each and every one of them and take his sweet time torturing every last one of those damn rebels to a bloody death. Sure, it wouldn’t help him get back the money he now was being forced to pay, nor would it get the contract with the security firm back after it expired, but it would be enough to give him a warm, fuzzy feeling.

And after he was done? Well, he still had that ship that the Andromedan Empire had gifted him in recognition of services rendered. He would have to sell off a large portion of his collection, though. Not like he could fit more than a few War Suits in that ship’s bays, after all, and that was to say nothing of the other parts he had amassed.

Oh, and as for that fucking Outworlder? Well, even if he kept coming back after dying, he would just find himself in a torturous hell all over again. All he needed to do was to swat that bug and send that hideous hunk of misshapen junk that he was piloting to the trash pile, and with the Suit that the contractors were working on he was sure to have an easy time tearing that bastard’s hopes to tiny, tiny bits.