As Axton finally set to work on actually building his first War Suit, he was left with a bit of a dilemma that halted his efforts in their tracks. Based on what he had seen of Stebbs’ morons, their equipment was both woefully out of date and horrifically underpowered. Likewise, the intel that he had gotten in the past few days from Daxter made it clear that this was far from the norm. The Mayor had, quite wisely, hoarded every single weapon more powerful than the ancient pieces of crap he had given to his thugs, stripping families of heirlooms and their ranged means of self-protection.

Now, Axton was all for sane gun-ownership laws and universal background checks, but simply taking everyone’s guns… Well, that did not sit well with him. But then again that was probably because he was an American, and the corporations that now controlled Earth had learned the hard way that there is no way in hell that you can get Americans to give up their guns without there being massive, nation-spanning riots and hundreds of billions, if not tens of trillions of dollars in property damages.

With that said, Axton was not about to risk his neck with another infiltration of Stebbs’ compound just to get the guns. Those things were locked in the armory, and only Stebbs had access to that place. It would take either some powerful explosives, a master hacker, or Stebbs’ own biometrics to get in there, and Axton had none of those.

Yet.

They were in a colony, which meant that they were subject to the laws of another, higher power. If and when they rebelled against Mayor Stebbs, who was the representative that was appointed by the Galactic Colonial Authority, there was a damn good chance that the Authority would come down hard on them, whether they won or lost. This, of course, was certainly not a good thing, and Axton was sure that Stebbs was counting on this to maintain his power.

Daxter could not think of anything to do, but Axton had more than enough experience to know exactly what needed to be done. He was certain that he knew how an utterly insufferable and incompetent moron like Stebbs got to the place he occupied, and two could play at that game. Besides, from what he was told it seemed that Stebbs was not just a miser, but he also did not pay any attention to the messages sent by the Galactic Colonial Authority.

These two things were a perfect storm that would, hopefully, see the Mayor lose his seat for just long enough that the rebellion could begin, all while the GCA audited Stebbs’ actions, property, and finances. If the GCA were anything like the organizations back in the real world, then all Axton needed to do in order to have the Authority throw Stebbs under the bus was to pay them far, far more than Stebbs paid them.

It would not be simply a 2 or even 5 times payment, but something far larger. Axton was going to fight money with money, and while it may cut into his current wealth it would almost certainly be enough to allow the revolution to go on. Most people in power tended to turn their eyes away from suffering if they were paid well enough, but Axton had a hunch that the GCA would be more than willing to allow an insurrection on an insignificant colony if they were not only paid well enough but also made aware that they had appointed someone who caused nothing but revolution and rebellion with his mere presence alone.

It was time to fight fire with fire... or in this case, credits with credits.

…

“Mayor! Mayor Stebbs!”

The shouting of a nameless slightly inbred hick woke the Mayor from his sleep He looked at the clock on the wall as the Sandman’s sand fell from his eyes. It was 9:55 AM, and that was two hours before he usually woke up. The hick on the other side of the door kept shouting and pounding on the reinforced entrance to his private suite, which only made the grumpy man more annoyed and irritable.

Stebbs took his time getting dressed, as whatever the problem was could wait until he was fully awake. He took time to brew a few cups of coffee, watch the recording of last night’s Galactic Tackleball League (the in-game equivalent of American Football, but all the players are purpose-built/bred cyborgs) while eating a healthy, balanced breakfast before opening the door to his home and talking to the impatient goon.

“Now, tell me, boy. What seems to be the problem that you can’t wait another few hours for little old me to get his sleep?” Stebbs said in his natural voice that mixed a certain cartoon Rooster speech patterns and sound with that of David Duke.

“Sir, the colonists….”

“Well? Did they finally decide to stop being the enemy?”

The thug shook his head so violently that you might have assumed he was a bobblehead in an earthquake.

“No, sir. They all are gone! They all must’ve left during the night and headed out into the wilds beyond the colony! There are only about forty or so left, and they were all tied up!”

“All tied up, you say? Why ever would those terrible people do that?”

“Those who were left behind were the ones who were cooperating with us.”

Mayor Stebbs thought for a bit. He could not exactly report this to the Galactic Colonial Authority, as doing so would make him look bad. He would have to find some way of bringing these people back by force, otherwise, an audit might be enough to get him booted from his post. Maybe if he put them all in chains then they would be more compliant, but he would need to find them and capture them first…

“Any idea where they ran off to?” Stebbs asked, not expecting a satisfactory answer.

“No. No, sir. We only know that they fled the colony.”

“Well, hell and damnation! Go out there and find those bastards and bring them back! Can’t exactly have a colony this size with only you people and forty or so more, now can we?”

The goon nodded in affirmation so rapidly he may well have been a headbanger in a mosh pit, which was possibly giving him a minor concussion in the process of his brownnosing. Stebbs waited for a bit for the man to stop nodding before slapping him when he did not just go and do as he was told. Stebbs could feel something was coming, but he was not sure what. He half expected the people to die out there in their hundreds before running back to get in his good graces, but another part of him had an ominous feeling that this was only the beginning of something he would not want to deal with.

“Maybe preparing for the worst might not be a bad idea.” Stebbs said to himself as he walked over to the armory and opened the vault full of guns, ammunition, explosives, and other toys and goodies he had ‘reappropriated’ from the colonists. Better that he should fortify the village for a possible future siege than run the risk of the worst occurring. Although, he had paid the Authority enough that he could get away with anything, and it was not like anyone in the area had enough money to cause any changes in that.

Yes, even if he lost (which had no doggone chance of happening, mind you) he could still count on the GCA coming down and punishing those rebellious colonists.