"Hands above your head, scum! You are under arrest for the crimes of pillaging, perfidy, violating the principles of distinction, proportionality, and military necessity, and several other crimes, along with desertion from the Dahl military!"
Axton sighed, complying with the four heavily-armed guards aiming their assault rifles at him. He'd been accosted the moment his starship landed. Five Dahl gunships had their guns trained on his ship as soon as he entered the star system. The owner of the spaceport back on Altan IV had sold Axton out to Dahl the moment the commando left his office. Surprisingly, he wasn't shot on sight. Instead, he'd been blindfolded, handcuffed, and shoved in the cargo compartment of a hovertank. He lay on the cold metal floor for twenty minutes.
"Do I at least get a phone call?" he joked.
"Shut up." the guards said.
He felt the tank land. The guards brought him to his feet, shoving him forward. After a long walk and a five minute elevator ride, he was forced to sit in a surprisingly comfortable chair. The guards cuffed him to wooden armrests and took his blindfold off.
In front of him sat a man in an expensive grey suit sitting at a mahogany desk. He wore aviator sunglasses and a handlebar mustache framed his lips. The man wore a white ten-gallon hat and had a diamond bolo tie on.
"Well, howdy, Axton." the man said. His voice was rough, coarse, as if he ate sandpaper at every meal. He had an accent, reminicient of the way Jakobs men talked, but a little less refined. "Call me the Warden. Let's you and I make a deal, huh?"
Axton frowned. He saw the megapolis cityscape of Hieronymous through the large window behind the man, saw Dahl gunships and weapons platforms in the sky.
"Now...I know what yer thinkin'. Why would ah ever make a deal with you, ah deserted from yer military years ago, all that." he began. "Truth is, Axton, you're markitable. Yer like a folk hero to them civvies out there." the man said, gesturing to the window. "You came from nothin'. Just a little scabby orphan kid, slummin' it out on the dirty streets. You signed up with Dahl. And then? You opened a friggin' Vault."
The man snapped his fingers and a holo-projector descended from the ceiling, projecting a screen.
"You ain't gettin' it, are ya? Tell ya what, I think it'd do better if'n I just showed ya." the man said, gesturing to the projector.
The screen showed a large table, a Dahl assault rifle on it. A hand-Axton's hand-reached out and grabbed it.
"When I killed Piston, what brand did I choose?" Axton heard himself say. The screen showed a clip of the final battle with Piston at Torgue's arena. Axton slid under the burly man, quickly swiping a knee out from under him and putting a burst of rifle fire in his back.
"When I defeated Handsome Jack, what kind of gun did I have in my hands?" He saw himself smash Jack's face with the butt of his rifle, knocking him to the ground and mag-dumping every bullet he had into Jack's chest.
"When I blew the Warrior to hell, who did I trust to back me up?" The screen displayed Axton holding his rifle in one hand, posing dramatically with one foot propped up on the Warrior's stone head as Lilith and Maya lay on the ground, clutching his legs like damsels in some corny action B-movie.
That's not really how any of that happened, he thought, but they sure do know how to make propaganda.
"When you open the next Vault, what kind of gun do you want pointed at the rest of the universe?" the simulated Axton said. "Dahl."
The promo ad ended. Axton raised an eyebrow.
"Them special effects boys know what they're doin', huh? Looks just like you." the Warden said.
"What, so you want me to be an advertising guy? I figured you'd shoot me after, y'know, the deserting thing." he said.
"You ain't no ordinary deserter anymore, son." said the Warden. "The brains at the top been thinkin' a' ways we could use yore, ahem, unexcused leave, to our advantage. Take a look." the man finished as the holo-projector threw up another image, this one of Armond Dahl, Stanton Dahl's grandson, shaking hands with Axton and presenting him with a medal.
"Ah gotta say, this one was a stroke a' genius. What the ads gon' say is, you didn't really desert. Goin' tah Pandora an' killin' Jack and the Warrior was more of a...secret mission type a' thing." the Warden said. "Which brings us ta why yer here."
Axton raised an eyebrow.
"We seen what happens when corporations like us try an' open a Vault. Hyperion, Atlas, Maliwan. Hell, we even tried it ourselves. Every time we think we're close, somehow a coupla Vault Hunters beat us to the punch and kick us out. Every damn time. So we here at Dahl figgered, why are we fightin' em in the firs' place? Number one, goin' up against folks like you and yours-for the boys on the ground, it's damn near suicide. Number two, it's jus' good marketing. You saw how Hyperion practically had a monopoly on weapons dealin' after they said Jack opened the Vault. Can you imagine the ad campaigns? You blowin' some monster's head off, Dahl gun in yer hands. Let's get down ta brass tacks, here, Axton: we want ya ta' find Vaults fer Dahl." the Warden said.
Axton frowned. "And if I don't?"
The Warden guffawed. "Then we kill ya, son." he said.
"Alright, fair point. What's in it for me?"
"Well, let's see. Yer life, for one. Your pick of any Dahl firearms in the galaxy. A nice, cushy home on a paradise planet of your choice. And..." he said. "...let's say...point oh-oh-one of all quarterly profits?"
The Warden pulled a contract and a pen out of his desk, sliding it towards the Commando. The guards uncuffed him, keeping their barrels trained on his head.
"All ya gotta do is sign yer name."
Axton took a long look at the paper, and the four armed guards behind him.
"I've got one condition." Axton said.
"Shoot." the Warden replied.
"I want to open the Vault on Hieronymous first."
"Done."
Axton grinned, taking the pen and signing the paper.