The plan of attack was as simple as it was theatrical, and that was just how both Axton and Thomas liked it. Little did the two cheating NPC champions know, Axton and Thomas both had decided that they would rather do a bit of reconnaissance beforehand than take up the actions of a bunch of bullheaded morons.

That they left the safety of their War Suits and stealthily made their way around the line of sight of the damaged and puppeteered empty War Suits was dangerous enough, but that they left their War Suits out in the open, with a few simple scripts running only increased the danger the two of them faced. However, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell that their two War Suits would have been able to sneak around and do a little bit of spying and pre-attack preparations behind enemy lines.

But there was also the issue that they could be found out. After all, if their War Suits stood around in plain sight and did nothing at all, then there was a chance that they could be stolen, or perhaps worse, that they could be found out and have the entire ruined city become a deathtrap.

Okay, maybe both of those options would go hand in hand, but either way, the danger was immense. That was why Axton had rigged up a few simple scripts for each of the two War Suits to follow. They were nothing too grand, either, merely directing the empty machines to move around a bit, point, and gesture, and occasionally move behind the hill and out of the line of sight of the vacant puppet War Suits.

Axton was sure that this would be enough, though Thomas did have his doubts, which was why they had doubled down on the deception by engaging in a bit more trickery. It would have been utter idiocy to waste ammo by having their War Suits fire their guns occasionally, either towards the ruined city or in any random direction.

As such, a second option needed to be made to deter any from getting close enough to have their damaged systems see through the deception. Hence why the night before they had planted a few rather massive charges under the terrain and given Franken a few spherical rocks to chuck at those planted bombs.

The scripts were simple, but they would allow Franken to lob a ‘grenade’ from time to time, only for the sandstone sphere to land and get blown to bits, destroying the evidence and, hopefully, convincing the people controlling the hollow husks that coming too close was a very bad idea. Despite this preparation, the pair only had a limited window to scout out and prepare a few surprises behind enemy lines.

As they set these small but annoying traps up, neither knew whether they’d even be able to get a puppeted husk to trigger a single one, but if they did, then the sight and sound would certainly attract some attention. This would drive more fools into the other traps and, if all went absolutely perfectly, would cause a chain reaction that would see every single husk of a War Suit rendered incapable of fighting.

With those pawns out of the picture, the pair could then focus on dealing with their main targets.

But, as the two made their way back into their War Suits after finishing their work, a slight issue arose. You see, a few weeks ago Thomas had done something that had brought unintended consequences, and those consequences were now here and desperately wanting to speak with him.

Yes, his words back when the ship he, Axton, Daxter, Sally, and the rest were on got boarded did indeed find a receptive ear, and despite the pair having nearly forgotten about that slight hiccup, there was someone calling who most certainly hadn’t. And so it was that Thomas got a call that he honestly had not been expecting, and one that had been ringing endlessly inside his War Suit, just waiting for him to pop open the hatch and immediately be assaulted by the most utterly obnoxiously snobby orchestral music that he or Axton had ever had the displeasure of hearing.

…

“Uhhhh… Ax…. I really don’t want to pick this up…”

Axton shared his friend’s opinion but given that the call was not even going to voicemail and instead merely ended and resent again before the Suit’s voicemail system could even process it, it was clear that the only way to silence the noise was to bite the bullet and answer. They both could see exactly who and what was calling, as the caller made no attempt to disguise themselves or their affiliations.

“I’m dreading this…” Thomas said as he rested his face against Spider-Can’s dashboard. “If this is what they think good music is, I am seriously dreading what I’ll be forced to deal with once I answer.”

“To be fair,” Axton countered, “at the very least they wear their hearts on their sleeves.” Axton then put on some headphones and started playing some of his own music. “And it is… unique.”

“Dude, this song is worse than elevator muzak and has enough propaganda woven into it to make me wonder if this was from an alternate version of Soviet Russia that went hardline despotic slaving monarchy.”

As the call ended and then started up again, it began with a massive burst of muzak that nearly gave Thomas a heart attack each time it happened. How this orchestral, propaganda-filled shit managed to also be muzak at the same time existed was a question that Axton and Thomas both did not want the answer to, but they both had their ideas.

Whether the noise was actually popular, or whether it was derived partially or fully from a torture technique was a question that both friends considered to be utterly impossible to answer satisfactorily, but they assumed that the truth was that its origin was a combination of both possible sources.

Regardless of their new reason to hate the Andromedan Empire and all that benefited from it and supported it, the fact remained that neither of them would be able to begin their attack so long as the calls were left unanswered. As Axton drowned out the noise with some of his own, Thomas gritted his teeth and answered the call.