The Mayor sat comfortably inside his War Suit, cushioned by over-stuffed padding that was held in by the most expensive suede leather he could afford. Sure, the job was not perfect but what could he have expected from the cheapest of the cheap? Of course, he had punished them for the sub-par work, but even if that meant that he couldn’t contract with their company again it didn’t really matter. Once he took these rebels into slavery, he would have all the manpower he could need to do all the work he would need. The Suit he was in had been mostly constructed using those he had enslaved, and it was in a decent enough shape when the contractors got it that they could finish up here and there.

That said, the security forces were taking too damn long. If he didn’t get those rebels captured and collared quickly, he might need to worry about not being back in time for the most recent episode of ‘Blastersmoke’. Sure, he could order his people to record it, but then he would have to worry about spoilers, and that just wouldn’t do.

In fact, the noise coming from the canyon was way too much. Sure, he had ordered the armory nearly emptied to outfit the inbred hicks he had hired with quite an excessive number of explosives, but the sheer number of explosions coming from beyond his eyesight was simply excessive. Perhaps he should have told them to use the grenades, both thrown and rocket-propelled, only when needed or to demolish the hidey-holes of the rebels? Well, it didn’t matter. The more dead meant the fewer mouths to feed, although it would put a dent in his future revenue regardless.

He was, however, getting concerned about one thing, though. The sounds of things blowing up and people screaming in pain and fear did not seem to be getting farther away. Instead, as if the situation down there had reversed, the sounds of battle were coming closer. In fact, over the booming explosions and cries of terror was a sound that Jedidiah (In case you forgot what Mayor Stebbs’ first name was) was not amused by. It was the tell-tale thrumming of a War Suit, and it wasn’t the one that he was currently piloting.

“Dag-burnit and spit!” Mayor Jedidiah Beauregard Stebbs spat as he lowered the hatch of his refurbished antique and motioned for his most loyal men to retreat with him. He wasn’t about to risk his own War Suit in such a situation. For all he knew, he and his men had been lured into a trap and the canyon was actually a kill zone, so it was back to the compound where they could actually mount a decent defense.

Needless to say, those security forces he had sent into the canyon were none too pleased when they scrambled up and out of it and discovered that the ground transports had all gone and drove away back to safety, leaving them alone and on their own to face the blood-covered death machine that was quickly coming from behind.

…

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the canyon was dyed in a light just as blood-red as the ground beneath Franken’s mechanized feet. The customized machine slowly walked forwards and cornered the last mob to still be alive. Said goon was pretending to be dead, lying face down and holding their breath, but this was not enough to fool Axton, whose minimap clearly showed that this person was far from being just another cadaver.

“You are an idiot.” Axton said as Franken’s loudspeakers let his modulated voice echo out. “Your first mistake was that you didn’t have any blood on yourself or under yourself.”

Franken stabbed the large sword in its left hand into the ground.

“Your second mistake was being so far away from the other dead people that you couldn’t have hidden among them.”

Franken lifted one of its feet and placed it delicately on the back of the now terrified thug.

“Your third mistake, which should take the place of the first one, is that you came here to begin with.”

Franken’s foot began to squeeze the hick tighter against the ground, which caused said person to try and flee, fully revealing themselves to be still very much alive.

“And your final mistake is thinking that I wouldn’t check my HUD to see if I missed anyone. Now, please die.”

Rather than crushing the person underfoot, something worse happened. The treads under the War Suit’s foot began to crawl forwards even as the rest of the foot held down the poor soul despite their screaming and flailing. The clothing was ripped up first, and after that, the treads tore through flesh and then bone until the red blip on Axton’s HUD vanished. Franken’s foot lifted and the tread spun again, spitting the remains of the dead person out of the sole and onto the ground.

Pulling the sword out from its place, Axton directed his War Suit to return to the rebel base. He would need to clean his creation, and he was dreading the smells and textures already.

…

(Three Months (Real World Time) Later)

“Ho Lee Fuck! That was brutal! Did you see that last bit? You know, when the Suit ground that guy to bits under its foot?!”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Dude, what’s the problem? I know you don’t like the guy, but come on! That was some epic stuff!”

“It isn’t just that I don’t like him. He took what should have rightfully been mine, and now I can’t even lay a finger on him! Do you know what my father said when I demanded that he do something? He told me that there were, and I quote, ‘Some people you just don’t mess with’. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?! My father owns 9% of the world, and somehow that isn’t enough to mess with one single person?!”

“Donny, my man, all we have to do is pay the right people! It would be easy enough, right?”

“As if! I tried, but the normal ones were apparently told not to mess with him! He’s some kind of ‘company asset’ now, and that makes him untouchable outside the game for the most part! If he ever leaves his house, however… Maybe we can do something there…”

“Yeah, my main man, that’s the spirit! Just get a gun and pay the people in the housing block to turn off the cameras for a while and then bust in and put a cap in him! It’s simple, easy and no one will bat an eye! Or we could ambush him when he leaves, right?”

“Yeah, that could work. Tell my bodyguards to monitor his home and, if he ever leaves, to bag him and take him to the basement of my place.”

“See? This is why no one with any smarts messes with you, Donny!”