“Turns out Daxter was right, in the end.”

“I told you so.” Axton replied. He and Thomas were still where they were previously, having scared the nameless mooks away with what they (the mooks) had thought was a buildup to a berserker rage. “He did say that this place was seedy as fuck, so what did you expect?”

“’Seedy as fuck’ doesn’t come close to describing this place.” Thomas said, pointing his thumb back in the direction they had come from. “That place made what I heard about early boom-town Las Vegas look like the Vatican in comparison, and that itself was nothing compared to the sheer overwhelming amount of bling that covered everything.”

“Yeah…” Axton said with a hint of disappointment and irritation in his voice. “The place looked even gaudier from the outside, though.”

“Yeah, until we got in, though. We weren’t exactly given the best welcome until we showed that we had a decent amount of cash that they thought they could squeeze out of us.”

“Wanna go back and put them in their place?” Axton asked. He was half of the mind to use Thomas’ skillz (the z being intentional) to their advantage. He had seen what the man was capable of when it came to gambling, and Axton himself had a lucky nature that seemed to defy all manner of laws of probability and causality. If they really went all-in, they could potentially make it so that the House did not, in fact, always win.

“Nah, they aren’t worth it.” Thomas said dismissively as he kicked the side of the wall.

“Oh?” Axton was surprised. Then he saw the roaches crawl out of the hole that Thomas had made with his boot. “Ugh! Don’t tell me they didn’t even bother to take care of that stuff!”

Thomas shook his head. “That’s how most rich people are. They don’t care about the maintenance if they don’t see it until it is far too late to do anything about it. I should know; I’ve seen more than a few mansions with that kind of fate in store. Anyways, they aren’t worth our time. Don’t know how long this place has before it literally falls apart, but if personal experience is anything to go by, it ain’t more than a few years.”

“Then we’d best rob this place for all it has, then, right?” Axton flashed a smile and walked deeper into the ever dingier and ever more decrepit corridor, with Thomas following behind and taking note of the weaker parts of the architecture.

Eventually, they did reach what they assumed was the place that the hologram mentioned, and it was just as out of the way and ruined as you’d expect from the seedy underbelly of an already seedy place that obviously neglected its own needed back-side maintenance.

“Oh? Didn’t expect anyone else to make it in time!”

“Yes. We did not expect that.”

A pair of voices came from a place not too far away, but behind an open doorway that was guarded by two big, burly cyborg men.

“They won’t make the cut, though. And even if they do, they’ll die within the first five minutes. Two if they are really unlucky and run into us!”

“Indeed. They would be rather fortunate if they left immediately and avoided what will inevitably be their certain death. I, for one, do not wish to kill unless it is needed.”

Axton and Thomas looked at each other. What was this, a comedy sketch? Why did one of them sound so small and nasally, if not outright stereotypically nerd-like while the other sounded like he was some old, veteran bodyguard? Were they really going to run into yet another cliché that quickly? What, did this game have some aversion to originality hardcoded into itself?

“Shut up back there! If they want to fight, then they get to fight. That is, if they have a War Suit, of course.”

Another voice joined the choir, this time from a man who sounded like he would not be out of place driving a cart full of Stormcloaks, a Dragonborn, and a Horse Thief to their doom (or otherwise lack thereof). Well, at least he wasn’t dressed as such, otherwise Axton would have worried if a certain Wrestler would fall from the sky and burn everyone with fire that stemmed from the overuse of Slim-Jims.

Oh, wait, that was a mod. Still, given that Skyrim had been re-released for the 1053rd time just a few days ago (and was due for another re-release in roughly a week) it still was relevant.

“Yes, we have War Suits.” Axton said, cutting off any further dialogue before it could happen. “And we both have one, each. Also, we have our own Mechanics, too. I can work on them myself, if I need to, as well. Where do we have to send our Suits to prepare for the Battle Royale, and where do we register as a team?”

The man who had made the other two people shut their traps laughed and a box next to the entrance to the other area lit up. A man was inside, protected by a very thick layer of heavy-duty ballistic glass and a few anti-personnel auto-turrets that popped up around the area.

“Good! Good! At least someone here wants to cut the bullshit. No grandstanding? No boasting? None of that crap about being so tough that you eat the people who eat nails for breakfast for breakfast? Damn, man, you are a refreshing change! Still not gonna change your odds, though. Get your asses over here and I’ll lend you a hand.”

“HEY!” came the nasally voice through the open doorway, which Axton could now see was illuminated by a reddish glow that was not merely mood lighting but something else entirely. “You didn’t help us a single bit all those years ago! Why the hell are you letting these total newbies have this kind of help when we weren’t given the time of day?!”

“Yes, my partner speaks the truth in this regard. This is unfair and should not be allowed. They must make their own way and learn from their own mistakes if they wish to be strong.”

“I didn’t help you two because you were a bunch of fucking assholes!” yelled the man inside the box. “And if you want to stay in the rankings and not have an ‘accident’ then shut the god damn hell up. Let me do my job and fuck right off, you asshats!”

The man in the box took an audibly deep breath, held it, and then exhaled.

“So, let’s get you two signed up!”