A voice fit for a barker for a 1900s circus or some other type of show spewed no end of random marketing garbage, filling the air with a near endless stream of corporate jargon and advertisements for the things that one could do/ experience on the planet below. Of course, there were two people here in this space station who were less interested in the majority of the advertised attractions than they were in a single one of them.

“Ahh! And we have some fine, strapping you gents over here!” the omnipresent voice that sounded way too old-fashioned for anyone’s taste announced that it had seen someone. Quickly thereafter, a hologram of a man in a 1920s suit with a black cane materialized right next to them.

“And you, good sirs, look like you are ready to see sights beyond your wildest expectations! You look like you have the class needed to enjoy some of the finer things in life, as well! Can I interest you in a rousing game of Poker? If so, that casino right over there has all the fun and games you’ll ever want or need, with lots of chances to strike it big and take home wonderous cash prizes! Waddaya say, gents? Are ya interested?”

“Actually, we’re here to participate in the War Suit Battle Royale down on the planet.” Replied the shorter of the two men.

The hologram froze up at this, but only for a single second, which was long enough for anyone attentive enough to notice. Maybe the machines making this hologram do its little song and dance were not expecting such a response and were spinning their wheels trying to come up with an adequate reply?

“Ah, men of grit and glamor, I see! Hard-boiled and grizzled veterans of great struggles, here to show the whole galaxy that they have what it takes to climb to the top and take victory (and lots of cash) from the jaws of defeat! I applaud your bravery, for putting your life on the line like this! No doubt you have balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls-”

Both men looked at each other as the hologram kept repeating the same word over and over. Had whatever systems that existed to make this a ‘reality’ not been serviced in a while? It kind of seemed that way, to be honest.

“-balls balls balls balls balls of steel!”

Oh, hey, it finally stopped glitching out.

“Well, my good men, if you want to enter that Battle Royale, just head down that passageway and submit the appropriate paperwork. If you don’t want to fill it out yourself, or if you just can’t, then a helpful person over there will do it for you! Have a grrrrrrrrrrrrreat day and remember that this station is always open!”

…

“That was fucking weird….” Axton said as he walked towards the place that the hologram had pointed at.

“You said it. Listening to that thing was like taking a time machine, eh?”

“Tom, please, I’ve never really had the luxury of getting to go to one of those Cons, and at best I’ve seen a few salvaged old videos and heard a few mostly broken radio clips. Half of me expects that that wasn’t even true vintage 1900s style stuff, just a pale imitation that is trying to pass itself off as old fashioned.”

Thomas nodded “Yeah, because the real deal would have been a hell of a lot more racist to me. Better fake vintage without all the bad parts than real vintage with loads of antiquated ideals and concepts.”

“As much as I want to disagree with you, I do agree on some parts, but we’ll let that can of worms stay closed.”

“Yeah, that is some stuff I would prefer not to get into. And are we sure that this is the direction that the wannabe circus barker was pointing?”

Axton turned around and traced a line with his eyes from where they once were to where they were now. Gone were the glitz and glamor of the rest of the station, replaced with a dingy, dusty, dank atmosphere fit more for a ghetto or slum than a five-star resort. All they had done was go down a single corridor, and now they were light years more removed from the usual trappings of such a place.

“Heheheh.” Came a voice that was both deep and nasally.

“Thomas…” Axton grumbled as he placed his palm over his face and dragged it downwards. “We’re seriously going to have to deal with no end of cliché tropes, aren’t we?”

“Y’all aren’t welcome in these here parts! Give us all ya got on ya, and we may let ya live with a few broken bones!”

“Thomas?” Axton said as he withdrew his shock baton and a small-caliber pistol.

“Yes, Axton?” Thomas replied.

“It is time….”

“Time for what?”

“Yeah! Time for what? Y’all gonna try an resist? Don’t be dumb, you’se ain’t got a chance in hell!”

Thomas looked at Axton as he fiddled with his menu, finally setting something right and dropping a box on the ground. Axton then began to take deep but heavy breaths as he seemingly pumped himself up for the fight that was about to happen. Looking down at the box, Thomas noticed what was about to be played and took the liberty of arming himself appropriately.

A heavy metal riff along with a series of electronic noises came from the box, instantly startling the mooks nearby. The song, if one could call a beat so full of unbridled hate such a thing, started off ‘calm’ enough, with the two Players psyching themselves up even more so as to be as intimidating as humanly possible.

“Rip. And. Tear.” As one, both Players said the same three words as if they were both possessed by a single force. This was enough t really unnerve a few of the mooks, who scampered away before anything got started. They were the smart ones, but they were leaving behind more than a few other idiots.

“Until… It. Is. DONE.”

The music immediately picked up tempo as both Axton and Thomas finished that last word, but the damage had already been done. The way that they had held themselves, the breathing, the tone of their voices, the music, the weapons in their hands; all of those had come together to do what nobody thought was possible. They had scared these fuckers so completely that the rest of them bailed before they could even take a single strike.

As the last nameless mook scampered off, Axton calmly reached down, turned off the box, and put both it and his weapons away.

“And that,” Axton said with a grin as he and his friend tried to hold back their laughter, “is how you fuck with idiots.”