He slowly trudges down the few steps from the entrance. All Gauntlets stand bolt upright and hold their hands to their foreheads in salute. Neither a muscle twitches nor a drop of sweat dares to flow down his forehead. His gaze wanders over the horrified faces of his entourage. He seems to literally soak up the respect. Finally he looks at Mike and his friends. The corners of his mouth lift slightly again.

"So that's them, the troublemakers who are blowing us all up here. A boy with no special skills, a half-dead witch and the worthless little pile of misery that stabbed us in the back," he mutters, amused He stares Skid straight in the face, "And the swordsman I saw on the surveillance camera must have had his fill of pants and gone wild. A really embarrassing club. The only thing more embarrassing are the worthless whiners who... let them defeat you."
He looks at his thugs with contempt. Just the thought that his people, and especially his commander, had difficulties with these jokers makes all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He grits his teeth tightly. He doesn't like it, but he swallows his anger a little. Anger wouldn't do him any good here either.
"Where are my manners!" the leader of the Gauntlets clears his throat, "My name is Bradford. I'm in charge here. And who are you, you don't seem as strong as Black Bolts."
"I'm Mike, and no - I'm not a Black Bolt. My girlfriend Merlany and I have our own problems with you!" Mike introduces himself energetically.
"And those would be?!" Bradford growls back, "I don't even know you."
"Your people invaded Merlany and attacked us. And if you mess with Merlany, then you mess with me too. That's why I'm here!"
Bradford raises his right eyebrow in confusion. "I don't know about your problems. What I do know is that the Don will bust my ass if I don't deliver on time. And I also know that you ruined my entire production. And all because of you "You've got a disagreement with some badass thugs. Damn it - I didn't even do anything illegal, this is a completely legal business, I even sell to the government!"
Skid growls, visibly annoyed. His eyes are literally flashing with anger. For a moment - a thousandth of a second - his look inspires even Bradford's respect. Skid quickly pulls a few levers, causing his Lance Driver to point towards Bradford. His cheeks glow red and wrinkles appear on his childlike forehead.
"You miserable bastard! My father has been locked up in the factory for weeks! Every time he comes home he's covered in bruises and scars! Half the town lives in fear that you'll go crazy!" Skid is literally shaking with anger. Bradford's smug statements made something boil inside him.
"What use is all our technology, our knowledge and all our progress if we are trapped in this city like slaves. I will never forgive you for what you have done to this city!"

A huge torrent of fire erupts from the Lance Driver's exhaust pipes, the arm minigun is aimed at Bradford. The griffins on the legs dig the hard asphalt. Skid puts his thumb on the trigger. The minigun's barrels spin faster and faster. Suddenly, glowing red sparks shoot through the air towards Bradford. With acrobatic skill, he immediately jumps behind the walls of the main gate.
"Skid, this machine is really cute, did you build it yourself?" Bradford mocks confidently as he begins to load his rifle behind the wall. The end of the weapon is a steel hemisphere divided by a vertical gap in the middle. A huge amount of energy accumulates in this gap. Skid screams loudly and uses the gun again. "One hit from the heat-enhanced overdrive bullets and all that's left of you is ashes!"
Bradford pulls a cigar from his pocket, holds the end in the energy that is gathering in his weapon and takes the first drag. He exhales the smoke slowly.
"It's time to get serious," he murmurs to himself. Without turning around again, he sprints towards Skid's machine. By taking quick steps to the sides and a few evasive rolls, he escapes the hail of bullets.
Once under the minigun arm, he fires his weapon. A blade of pure energy flies out of the crack in the hemisphere, quickly shooting out of the weapon and cutting off the robot's arm. The gun falls heavily to the ground. Skid catches his breath. He quickly pulls a lever so that the Lance Driver pushes his drill towards Bradford, but he jumps out of the danger zone quickly enough and shoots down the next arm of the robot.
"The Ax Gun can cut through almost anything. One shot is usually enough," he explains scornfully to the stunned Skid.

Bradford quickly charges towards the Lance Driver, climbs up one leg and swings wide. He quickly breaks the glass window in front of Skid's cockpit with the stock of the weapon.
"The Don doesn't like to miss his delivery, and I'm showing you this impatience," he shouts into the completely perplexed Skid's face before grabbing him by the collar. His paw looks like an excavator shovel compared to Skid's. After all, Bradford is about two and a half times Skid's height. Finally he throws it out of the cockpit, causing Skid to hit the ground hard. He pushes himself off the robot with his strong legs and extends his weight onto his elbows. He would now break every bone of this little traitor - the punishment for betrayal! Skid can already see Bradford's bloated upper body racing towards him like a muscular meteorite, but a figure in a white coat rushes over him and drags him out of the danger zone.

While Bradford blasts a crater into the ground with his unsharpened elbow, Skid is helped up by his father. Bradford slowly stands up. Above Bradford's dark circles under his eyes, his raging anger shines in his brown eyes.
"Traitor!" he shouts at the two, still on his knees. He towers up in front of the two again, leaving them breathless in fear. He slowly walks towards her. He points his axegun at the two. Energy charges in the hemispherical head of the weapon. His finger is already lightly pressing the trigger. "That's it for you, you traitors!"

A dull noise - A loud scream - The ax shot goes nowhere - Surprise on Bradford's face.
Mike's kick knocks the gun out of his hands. Skid and his father take cover. Mike looks seriously into Bradford's face. While the two maintain eye contact, time stands still for a moment. His voice explains coldly and callously:
"You should have thought better about attacking one of my friends in front of me. Now you have to deal with me."

Bradford takes a step back. Nobody has ever snatched anything from his hands. Mike takes off his weighted leather jacket and throws it behind him to Skid, who takes it, somewhat surprised by its weight of almost 20 kilograms. Skid clutches the jacket tensely. Mike runs his fingers through his hair again. "Come on! Time to fight, you miserable mountain of flesh!"