"Finally met your match, eh, Vault Hunter?" Handsome Jack taunted. Axton stood, surrounded by hundreds of Skags, Stalkers, Loaders and Hyperion Personal, all trying to kill him. Him and his turret had been fighting for what felt like forever, but the waves of enemies seemed endless. Jack was finally going all out in trying to kill him.
Axton jumped to the left as a Slagged Badass Skag lunged for him, turning mid-air in preparation to blast it in the face. However, it exploded into blood and slag residue before he could pull the trigger – shot down by his trusty turret. If he could trust anyone to have his back, it would be his beloved turret. They were the perfect team, his turret's 360-degree motion sensors allowing it to know the location of anything attempting to kill them, and launching bullets and missiles at a speed faster than human reactions would allow. The turret couldn't handle every enemy, though, and with it being a dedicated source of destruction, it didn't have much in terms of durability. That's where Axton came in – he defended the turret with his life, not allowing anything to come anywhere close to touching it.
The two of them had fought countless battles together, never coming out anywhere but on top, and somewhere along the way, the two had formed an irreplaceable bond. While the turret had a limited concept of emotion, and no voice module, it somehow comprehended the connection that had formed between it and its master. At first, it had believed itself to be a dispensable weapon at the Vault Hunter's disposal. Its master fought to protect it, however, not allowing it to come to any harm. While the turret didn't understand at first, it came to accept the terms of their partnership: To never let the other be destroyed. It also felt something comparable to joy when its master had it upgraded and gifted new weapons in which it could serve its only motivation and purpose: To protect the one who had treated it so well.
"Go get 'em, honey!" he shouted as a new wave approached the two. Most people assumed the comments about the turret being his wife were a joke. And, technically, while the two weren't married – and his turret didn't have a designated gender – he felt as connected to his turret as he assumed one would feel with a marital partner. The turret was his partner for life, after all, so why not refer to it as such. Most people treated Sabreturrets as disposable weapons, but after 10 years in the Dahl Military, he lived by a common soldier's policy: "No one gets left behind" – especially not someone, or something, which would fight to protect him.
The waves were slowly increasing in strength and numbers, making survival seem impossible. The Legendary Commando would not give up, however. He redoubled his efforts to lay waste to every creature that dared to threaten him or his turret. He was tiring, though, and as much as it pained him to admit it, the hopelessness of the situation began to dawn on him.
"We're almost in, Axton. You only have to distract them for a little longer. I just wanted to say… Your sacrifice will always be remembered. You've given us the edge we need to finally beat Jack. I'm just sorry that it was at the cost of your life. Thank you."
Lilith. A stalwart ally who he knew wouldn't rest until Jack was defeated. That thought gave him peace of mind; Lilith and the rest of the Crimson Raiders were still fighting. His sacrifice would allow them to finally defeat Jack and stop his insane plans. And with this thought, Axton gave the final push. All the nicks and scratches he'd acquired over the duration of the battle were starting to add up; his vitality now quickly draining.
Enemy after enemy, The Turret tore down. Never relenting in its onslaught of bullets and missiles. Badass Skag. Cyclone Stalker. Combat Engineer. Rakk. Flaming Adult Skag. GUN Loader. EXP Loader. Badass Loader. Engineer. Skag. Stalker. Loader. Skag. Stalker. Loader. Engineer. Rakk. Skag. Stalker. Loader. More and more enemies fell before the might of a Sabreturret loyally defending its master. Bullets, Bullets, Bullets, Rocket, Rocket, Rocket, Bullets, Bullets, Bullets, Rocket, Rocket, Rocket, Bullets, Bullets, Bullets, Rocket, Rocket, Click… Click. Click. Click. No more rockets. It had never run out of rockets before.
A Skag launched itself and sank its teeth into his left arm. With a tear of its jaw, it ripped the arm completely off. Pain flared, but there was no giving in now. Bloodied, but not beaten, The Commando continued to rain hell upon enemy after enemy, attempting to ignore the rapid blood loss occurring, due to a main artery being torn completely in half. His flagging strength now becoming obvious, as his movements became less flawless; his trained actions beginning to show error. Until a Badass Skag bowled him over, and he fell. He tried to get up, but found it impossible. Regardless, he carried on firing shotgun shell after shotgun shell into the crowd, briefly tucking the shotgun under his shoulder, without an arm attached, to pull a grenade and throw it. It sailed through the air, splitting off into 13 child-grenades, which in turn exploded, clearing out dozens – maybe a hundred – of his attackers, reducing their numbers drastically.
Seeing its master fall, the turret relentlessly released rounds of bullets into the crowd, emptying clip after clip of its seemingly endless stores. Going into overdrive, the turret pushed its capabilities to the limit, blazing blurred pellets of death into the sea of enemies so fast that it began to produce steam. Jolts of electricity jumped across the body of the turret, as its parts, one by one, gave up on it. The turret began to overheat, but it never stopped shooting, knowing that if it did, death would be certain for its master.
However, the onslaught never stopped. More Skags, Stalkers and Loaders appeared in place of their fallen comrades, the ranks of enemies never thinning. An Ambush Stalker leaped onto Axton's fallen body, knocking away his shotgun with its talon, and tearing into his stomach. Realising this was the end, he shifted his head sideways, just in time to see an explosion knock over his trusty turret, before it when up in flames. His one partner, his one ally through it all, was gone for good. There was no repairing the damage that the turret had just taken. Despair washed over him, and he registered the fact that his single greatest comrade, no, his single best friend was lost to him. Not that it mattered, though, as he would be soon to follow. Several thoughts crossed his mind, as his consciousness began to fade. Did he distract Jack for long enough? Were the Crimson Raiders going to be okay?
But the one thought that dominated his consciousness, and remained there until the end was one of gratitude. His final thoughts were of love and appreciation of his turret.