“Damn Outworlder! Get back here!”

“Make me, dipshit!”

“Stand still for a moment, bastard!”

“And let you hit me? I think not!”

Stebbs was not having a good time. His antique War Suit had been refurbished and refitted a decent while ago, but after fielding it for the first time during the assault on the canyon he had not bothered to even get in it up until this final battle. His knowledge of how to work his machine was limited at best, which resulted in him swinging his War Suit’s arms wildly and with no real skill. He was essentially acting like a casual who had picked up a 100% complete savegame for a SoulsBorne-type game but had never played the game before and yet was challenging someone who had far, far more experience in a duel. To use another metaphor, he just barely knew how to walk, and yet he was trying to beat a decently more professional athlete in a half marathon.

While the mayor was most assuredly not having a fun time, Axton was having a blast. He danced Franken around Stebbs and his gold turd of a mech like a predator toying with its food. It was near child’s play for him, using his knowledge of Franken’s strengths and weaknesses to his advantage to divert power from one system to another so that he could amuse not only himself but also any potential individuals who would watch his antics later on.

He still resented the corporate assholes who went back on their word without so much as a heads up, but what was he going to do about it? If he canceled the contract, they could just take the footage regardless and he wouldn’t see even a wooden nickel in recompense. But, if he was correct, then he knew how to make those content-hungry douchebags more willing to treat him well. Although to be fair, with the monetary conversion system that was in place, the contracts would be chump change at best. Perhaps if they decided to try and fuck him over again he would simply refuse to play by their rules and treat them with as much hostility as he could get away with and let the contracts rot.

In the best-case scenario, all he needed to do was put on one hell of a show and do so enough times that he because a valuable asset. It was the same thing everyone had to do for every job they had, regardless of the time period they were in. If you make yourself so valuable that you can’t be fired or laid off, then you have a much better chance of getting what you want and having your employers, or in this case, the people who signed a contract with you, bend over to support you. That is, if you aren’t under a sociopath, of course.

Either way, he knew what his job was, and he was enjoying it to no end. The War Suit in front of him was not built for this level of stress, that much was clear to him. The gold plating, the obviously excessive number of decorations, the relative slowness of its movement; these and more were reasons that caused Axton to wonder if this Suit was even designed to fight at all in the in-game lore. This led him to finally ask the mayor a question that was on his mind as of late.

“Hey, was that Suit originally supposed to be used in a parade or in active combat? I mean, long, long before you bought it.”

Stebbs snorted and confirmed Axton’s suspicions. “Of course it was made for parades! You would not expect something designed explicitly to be covered in gold and decorations to be anything beyond a ceremonial tool… Oh….”

“Yeah, you fucked up.” Axton replied with a sigh.

“Well, it will still win the day! I had this machine refitted with modern internals!”

Axton drove Franken into Stebbs’ Suit with a shoulder tackle, which knocked the machine to the ground and caused yet more gold and decorations to dislodge themselves from the mech. By this point, the gold and other decorations that had once covered 100% of all visible external parts had been reduced to around 27% coverage, and the pure hull that was showing was far from armored enough to defend against a serious attack. Axton brought Franken’s foot up and placed it down on the much less golden War Suit and then revved up the treads on that foot’s sole, which caused the metal underneath to spark and scrape.

Stebbs and his toy once again got to their feet as Franken removed its foot, and once again the mayor began to swing wildly, without any discipline or pattern. Axton was still enjoying himself, but now the thrill was beginning to wear off. It was nearly time for the wipe to begin, anyway, so he was now on a final timer.

“Alright,” Axton said as he directed Franken to unsheathe the blade that was effectively mounted sideways on his mech’s rump. “This has gone on long enough, hasn’t it?”

“Finally, you decide to take things seriously!” Stebbs said, acting as if he still had the advantage.

This insistent bravado and optimism had Axton confused, but his confusion soon turned to shock when the formerly completely gold machine’s rectangular back shifted and then swiveled up over the enemy Suit’s head. It seemed that Axton wasn’t the only one to put an MLRS on his War Suit…

“Now, face the power of this glorious machine!” Stebbs yelled, but nothing happened.

Axton didn’t stand around and rather than waiting for the enemy missiles to fire he and Franken ducked around a few corners and out of Stebbs’ line of sight.

“Damn it, Aureole!” Stebbs yelled. “Why won’t you fire!”

Axton waited patiently for the missiles to fire, but rather than them shooting off, something altogether more entertaining happened instead. From Axton’s position roughly a half of a block away, he heard and felt the entire MLRS system detonate. It would appear that by hiring the cheapest labor available to ‘finish’ his War Suit, the Aureole, Stebbs had inadvertently sealed his own fate. Determining that there was a very high likelihood that Stebbs had blown himself up, Axton and Franken came out from their cover and saw that Stebbs must have had the devil’s luck.

Stebbs and his Aureole were still very much (partially) intact. Mostly. It appeared that the mayor had realized that he had fucked up and purged the MLRS from his Suit and then bolted just in time to avoid being reduced to ash and twisted, molten metal. However, the enemy War Suit had sustained some nasty damage and was now missing the empty autocannon that used to be its right forearm along with also having several rather sizable bits of metal lodged in places where they shouldn’t have been.

Axton drove up to Stebbs and looked over his battered opponent before quickly moving out of range of the enemy War Suit’s morningstar as the foe tried to get in a cheeky strike.

“I guess it’s time to finish this.” Axton said as he had Franken ready its oversized broadsword.

And indeed, it was. But Stebbs had one more card yet to play, and it was one he had hoped that he would never have needed to use.