As the last bullet in the mech-use SAW’s magazine was shot into the prone War Suit, a deathly silence replaced the former din of gunfire. Franken lifted the gun in its hands and rested it against its shoulder as its pilot surveyed the damage.

Looking around it was clear that there were no nearby threats, or at least none that could be seen, but Spider-Can had the better sensor suite, so Axton shot Thomas a glance that the latter understood immediately. A simple shaking of the head and a less strained facial expression loosened up Axton’s own tension and stress.

They had done it. For the sake of those who had fallen to the cheating bastards, for the sake of those who had been forced to submit to their bullshit, and for the sake of his and his comrade’s own sense of common decency, they had laid low the Champions.

Or, rather, the former Champions, as that title now belonged to the pair of them. Holstering the gun that was in its hands, Franken reached down and yanked the now detached Champion Belt from the smaller of the two fallen War Suits, only to discover that, rather than being an actual belt, it was more like a bit of gaudy, tacky, tasteless, bolted on metal plating that had bendable parts.

“Why did I expect anything else from these two?” Axton grumbled as he had Franken discard the metal in its hand like the trash that it was.

“Hey, at least we won’t have to deal with this bullshit anymore.” Joked Thomas. “And we got a free planet out of it. I, at least, think that getting a whole goddamn planet in exchange for not getting an actual champion’s belt or two is a decently fair trade.”

“So that actually went through?” Axton asked incredulously. “Pretty sure that Dax and the others didn’t have the administrative and legal know-how to even get that through, let alone make it actually work out in the end.”

“Well, let’s just say that a good boss takes care of his employees, who, in turn, would want to pay them back.” Thomas said vaguely before a pause. “And, if that isn’t concrete of an explanation enough, then just know that I’m not the type of person to reward hard work and dedication with something like a cheap pizza party or a middling bit of paper-thin pretend support.”

“Are you saying that you actually bought people the pods and the game?”

Thomas smiled. “People generally don’t need to work much anymore, if at all. Given that, I figured I might as well give people an incentive to come in and do stuff. Maybe they help out, maybe they do what they want, but in the end, that’s up to them. I can still get a write-off regardless of what they are up to so long as they are in the buildings, you know.”

“That’s actually pretty clever.” Axton said, marveling at the fact that his friend has done what few others of his social and financial class had ever considered doing and had harnessed the potentially unlimited business power of a positive employee feedback loop.

“Yeah, but-…” Thomas paused as his sensors picked up something coming from above.

Axton responded by unholstering Franken’s gun and loading more ammo while aiming skyward. A shape much like an inverted pyramid but with tv screens for sides floated down from high above before spraying out a metric fuckload of confetti, glitter, and streamers, much to the annoyance of both nearby Players.

The tv screens on the sides began to show static for a bit before going black. Then a video fit more for an old bowling alley’s ‘Strike’ videos than an actual Battle Royale before a single, massive trio of sentences that were obviously misspelled appeared in the place of that tacky, bizarre video.

[Conglaturashion! A Wenner Is Yo! You Have Calymed Vectoree Over Yor Fos, An Ar Now Th Champyins!]

Axton looked down from the message that was quickly followed by a mechanical, overly autotuned voice that spoke the announcement aloud and turned to Thomas.

“Are you seeing this shit?”

Thomas, for his part, was just trying to hold back his visible disappointment.

The upside-down floating pyramid replayed its message a few more times, each time proceeded by another spray of tacky confetti, glitter, and streamers, before it began to slightly sag to one side. Then, as if its stings were cut all at once, the inverted pyramid lost whatever force was holding it above the ground and both fell towards the ground and, ultimately, crashed into it.

The screens crackled and then shattered as sparks flew and the machine burst into flames, with the message its speakers had been playing continuing to repeat, though the voice speaking that endlessly repeating message became ever more distorted and would get hung up on random ‘words’ and syllables for longer and longer periods of time.

“Well,” Axton remarked as the fire grew larger and the speakers finally began to let out a long, droning noise not unlike a mechanical death-rattle, “that seems ominous.”

“So, then we deal with it like every other ominous thing we’ve had to deal with in nearly every game that has ever been made.” Thomas said, his voice filled with stern determination and stoic bravery in the face of the bad omen before him.

“Indeed.” Axton replied as Franken leveled its SAW and popped open the two torso panels to reveal the usual pair of guns and small, single-use missile launchers. “As we all know, any threat can be dealt with and any omen can be denied if you apply the precise amount of dakka needed to deter it, or simply destroy it.”

Spider-Can pulled back a bit more and leveled all of its myriad weapons at the flaming wreck in the middle of the vacant arena. “And the amount needed is…”

Axton smirked as he watched another machine slowly come down, likely to try and salvage the wrecks. “ALL of the dakka.”

…

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING?!” screamed an executive as the pair of Outworlders unloaded a can of whoop-ass into the fallen piece of machinery.

“Well, that is their stuff, now.” Stated a new person.

“And who the fuck are you?!” screamed the previous exec, only to be stunned into silence as a small army of Outworlders in business suits entered into his office.

“On behalf of the Colossus Conglomerate, I would like to inform you that this station, the planet below it, and the entire star system they both are in, now belong to us. Likewise, you are not only out of a job, but also out of an office and out of time.”

The small army of suited men parted to allow a group of pirates to enter and apprehend the exec and his other allies who had not fled already.

“You can’t do this to me!” was one of the more common yells to fill the massive conference room.

These outcries were met with silence and sneers as the men yelling were dragged away to an unknown and most certainly deeply terrible fate. Once the only occupants that remained were the men in suits, they all shared a knowing glance before one of them peeked outside and gave an ‘all clear’ sign.

“THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!” yelled one as the façade of being stoic men in black vanished instantly.

“I swear I was about to laugh about five times before they all left…” said another as they patted each other on the backs.

“This is so fucking cool!” said another happily. “We have a fucking planet to do whatever we want with!”

“Actually, the Boss has a planet and a star system that he can do what he wants with, but given how he’s been with everyone up till now, it might as well be ours, too.”

“I call dibs on Region 1487! I’ve got plans, man! I’ve got ALL the plans!”