((Claire Monaghan continued from INTRODUCING......))
Well, Claire was away from Jessica and her friends, and now she could do whatever she wanted in The Castle. She found it pretty difficult to decide what she wanted to do. She could do the maze, the go-karts, or play any of the arcade games. She found it really hard to decide. However, after a bit of thinking, she hurried to the third floor to do the activity she knew what she wanted to play:
LASER TAG!
Fuck yeah, laser tag! Man, I haven't played in a while. Damn, I can't wait to play. I'll be like freaking Han Solo or John Rambo in this bitch!
Claire hurried over to the rental stand and asked for a pass to play. She paid for three games and got her gun. She checked the number on the gun to the list of codenames on the wall. According to the list, she would play the game as "Hawk".
Awesome, just like that cop on Twin Peaks.
Claire sat down in a chair in the waiting room. "Hawk" would be playing in the next game, but she would have to wait a few minutes. Still, she was psyched. She would be playing against nine other players, and she knew that she would have to do everything she could to be 1st place.
Okay Hawk, let's think this through. You can't run inside these kinds of places due to safety concerns, but you can move fast. Try to stay low. Maybe try to get a vantage point or a corner where you can snipe the other players. Yeah, those sound good. I'm going to be one badass shooter, like Yoko from Gurren Lagann, or maybe even like that girl in Fullmetal Jacket. Tee hee, when can the match start? I'm ready!!!!
Claire continued to giggle in her chair as she watched the clock on the wall count down. In a few minutes, she would be in the arena and blasting her lasers.
Shoop do woop motherfuckers, I'm coming for you.
Set Lasers to Fun
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2754
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
((Enter Adam Morgan))
Laser tag was a lot of things, but it sure wasn't paintball. Good thing, too. Adam wasn't very good at paintball. Too much running around and stuff, too much open ground and patience, too much running into the middle of it all and getting splattered like a Pollock painting by half the people in the place. Nah, paintball, it was a great way to kill an afternoon, but it wasn't something Adam could be in to win. Mostly he was fine with that, you know; someone had to lose and he was pretty good at being gracious about the whole getting-stomped thing, so he figured he was doing his part, sparing some poor fool the pain of getting humiliated in front of his buddies by getting humiliated first. It was like his boy scout good deed of the day or whatever.
Laser tag, that was different. Laser tag, that was something he was in to win. It was practically built for him. The place was dark and cramped and there was no time to think or plan because someone would always turn up right behind you to do their cool badass shoot-you-in-the-back-of-the-head-with-no-warning thing. Laser tag was built for the twitchy and those with a deficit of attention. It was built for little kids hopped up on crazy amounts of cake and sugar, built to let them overrun their parents like a little Mongol horde. Yeah, laser tag, that was something Adam could do. Just, right now, he couldn't because while he'd paid for his games and stuff there was a wait, 'cause the last game wasn't done yet.
Adam was sitting on one of the chairs, zipping and unzipping the pocket on his jacket. The jacket didn't fit so well under the laser tag gear, but it wasn't so warm in here and he liked his jacket. Looked badass. The girl a couple seats down (who was almost certainly on the other team) was giggling to herself, like maybe she was having flashbacks to that time she massacred civvies in 'Nam or something. Maybe she could feel the flames in her soul flaring up again, the heat of battle in her veins. Maybe someone'd just sent her a funny text with a picture of a weasel doing something silly. Hard to say. She was one to watch. The craziest motherfuckers in the world were the ones who looked all cute half the time. That one guy who'd tried to rip Adam's spine out or whatever that one time in the backyard UFC ring, he'd been real mousy and little and cute in a totally secure and heterosexual way. That was what was memorable. This real little guy, only he never trimmed his fingernails, had these huge fucking claws on his hands and it was his first time there and nobody even thought to check nails.
Adam was The Wolf. Actually, the guy next to Adam was The Wolf. Adam was associated with The Wolf. Adam was The Dingo, which didn't sound quite as badass as The Wolf, but from what he understood dingoes came from Australia and were therefore automatically engines of destruction. Actually, Adam's number was just there on a list next to the word "Dingo". Whatever.
It appeared that the theme today was to be vicious canines against raptors. That was not even a fight. That was a massacre. Adam was getting ready for some Kentucky Fried Eagle. About the only thing pretty much guaranteed to crimp his style would be if some soccer mom turned up with a gigantic van full of little kids and they all wanted to be on Adam's team. Then he would be obligated to act as babysitter and to not curse and shit. He would have to actually behave like a rational human being. He was not here to behave like a rational human being. That was for school, for home, for every single motherfucking hour of his life that he wasn't rocking people's shit in combat sports.
Adam was here to burn off the tension that was an impending psychology test. He was ready. He was going to ace this test. He had studied. He had planned. He had prepared his battle strategy.
He didn't even have to restrain himself from turning to giggling girl and telling her that she was about to discover roughly how it felt to get sucked into the engine of a 747. Badasses did not talk trash. They sat quietly and calmly and wiped the floor with everyone. Adam stopped zipping and unzipping the pocket of his jacket and folded his hands in his lap. Yes. Silent. Adam found a hair tie and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. Wouldn't do to miss a shot because he couldn't see. He folded his hands in his lap again. This waiting was killer. The Kiddie Cadre had to be wrapping it up soon.
Zip. Fuck. Hands folded again. Adam realized he should probably be stretching. He never did gymnastics without stretching. Laser tag was not gymnastics. Stretching would still probably be a good idea. He never fought anyone without stretching either. This was like getting woken up in the middle of the night by a bunch of bogies sneaking into camp with filet knives and cheese wire and having to fight them off while still wearing one of those masks people wore on airplanes to let them sleep.
Start. He wanted this to just start. It had to start soon. Just had to. His hands were folded in his lap. His foot was rising and falling, in a tapping motion, but slowly, very very slowly. He forced it flat. Any moment now. Any time.
Laser tag was a lot of things, but it sure wasn't paintball. Good thing, too. Adam wasn't very good at paintball. Too much running around and stuff, too much open ground and patience, too much running into the middle of it all and getting splattered like a Pollock painting by half the people in the place. Nah, paintball, it was a great way to kill an afternoon, but it wasn't something Adam could be in to win. Mostly he was fine with that, you know; someone had to lose and he was pretty good at being gracious about the whole getting-stomped thing, so he figured he was doing his part, sparing some poor fool the pain of getting humiliated in front of his buddies by getting humiliated first. It was like his boy scout good deed of the day or whatever.
Laser tag, that was different. Laser tag, that was something he was in to win. It was practically built for him. The place was dark and cramped and there was no time to think or plan because someone would always turn up right behind you to do their cool badass shoot-you-in-the-back-of-the-head-with-no-warning thing. Laser tag was built for the twitchy and those with a deficit of attention. It was built for little kids hopped up on crazy amounts of cake and sugar, built to let them overrun their parents like a little Mongol horde. Yeah, laser tag, that was something Adam could do. Just, right now, he couldn't because while he'd paid for his games and stuff there was a wait, 'cause the last game wasn't done yet.
Adam was sitting on one of the chairs, zipping and unzipping the pocket on his jacket. The jacket didn't fit so well under the laser tag gear, but it wasn't so warm in here and he liked his jacket. Looked badass. The girl a couple seats down (who was almost certainly on the other team) was giggling to herself, like maybe she was having flashbacks to that time she massacred civvies in 'Nam or something. Maybe she could feel the flames in her soul flaring up again, the heat of battle in her veins. Maybe someone'd just sent her a funny text with a picture of a weasel doing something silly. Hard to say. She was one to watch. The craziest motherfuckers in the world were the ones who looked all cute half the time. That one guy who'd tried to rip Adam's spine out or whatever that one time in the backyard UFC ring, he'd been real mousy and little and cute in a totally secure and heterosexual way. That was what was memorable. This real little guy, only he never trimmed his fingernails, had these huge fucking claws on his hands and it was his first time there and nobody even thought to check nails.
Adam was The Wolf. Actually, the guy next to Adam was The Wolf. Adam was associated with The Wolf. Adam was The Dingo, which didn't sound quite as badass as The Wolf, but from what he understood dingoes came from Australia and were therefore automatically engines of destruction. Actually, Adam's number was just there on a list next to the word "Dingo". Whatever.
It appeared that the theme today was to be vicious canines against raptors. That was not even a fight. That was a massacre. Adam was getting ready for some Kentucky Fried Eagle. About the only thing pretty much guaranteed to crimp his style would be if some soccer mom turned up with a gigantic van full of little kids and they all wanted to be on Adam's team. Then he would be obligated to act as babysitter and to not curse and shit. He would have to actually behave like a rational human being. He was not here to behave like a rational human being. That was for school, for home, for every single motherfucking hour of his life that he wasn't rocking people's shit in combat sports.
Adam was here to burn off the tension that was an impending psychology test. He was ready. He was going to ace this test. He had studied. He had planned. He had prepared his battle strategy.
He didn't even have to restrain himself from turning to giggling girl and telling her that she was about to discover roughly how it felt to get sucked into the engine of a 747. Badasses did not talk trash. They sat quietly and calmly and wiped the floor with everyone. Adam stopped zipping and unzipping the pocket of his jacket and folded his hands in his lap. Yes. Silent. Adam found a hair tie and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. Wouldn't do to miss a shot because he couldn't see. He folded his hands in his lap again. This waiting was killer. The Kiddie Cadre had to be wrapping it up soon.
Zip. Fuck. Hands folded again. Adam realized he should probably be stretching. He never did gymnastics without stretching. Laser tag was not gymnastics. Stretching would still probably be a good idea. He never fought anyone without stretching either. This was like getting woken up in the middle of the night by a bunch of bogies sneaking into camp with filet knives and cheese wire and having to fight them off while still wearing one of those masks people wore on airplanes to let them sleep.
Start. He wanted this to just start. It had to start soon. Just had to. His hands were folded in his lap. His foot was rising and falling, in a tapping motion, but slowly, very very slowly. He forced it flat. Any moment now. Any time.
[Enter: Michael Mitchellson]
Michael stood in front of a fighting game, (Street Fighter Alpha 3, to be exact) his concentrated gaze nearly burning a hole through the screen. This was it, dammit. This was what all his training had come to. He had the experience of an entire bored afternoon behind him, and he would not lose!
...He thought, as M. Bison knocked Sakura out. Well. Shit. He turned away from the machine in disgust, having watched the bad ending nearly a dozen times already. Whose idea was it to not let you continue if you die at the end, anyway? Evil businessmen. That's who. Eh, he guessed it wasn't a big deal. Blaming an arcade machine for being a coin-eater is like blaming a cat for killing your couch. It's just what they do.
Michael had spent most of the afternoon here. After a week, sick in bed with only the cold, pitiless grasp of the internet for company (well, and his grandparents, along with copious amounts of chicken soup, but he was trying to be dramatic here!) he'd jumped at the chance to spend some time out of the house. Get some fresh air.
Well, in practice, get lots of that weird, somewhat stuffy arcade air. But still. It's the thought that counts. He turned his gaze to the countless other machines, lined up in rows. He'd already beaten Time Crisis 2 and 3, and he didn't like the other light gun games. He wasn't in the mood for any fighting games, at the moment, nor did he feel like playing some retro thingamajig. Dance Dance Revolution and its ilk were out of the question, obviously.
At last, he gazed at the entrance to the laser tag arena. This could be fun. He hadn't had a good game of laser tag in a while. Anyway, it was always fun to live a cover shooter. Michael ambled over to the dude manning the counter. Thankfully, as Michael was a regular, most of the cashiers recognized him, therefore avoiding annoying questions. Michael held up four fingers, and handed the money over. Four games should be more than enough.
He retrieved his gun, slid the gear on easily over his green button-down shirt, and quickly adjusted his fedora. It wouldn't do to have it fall off during the fight, and he sure wasn't going to leave it out here, where anyone could steal it. Sure, he doubted that anyone cared enough to steal his hat, but still. He liked his hat, and preferred to keep it.
Michael quickly checked his code name. "Coyote". A reasonably cool name. Maybe a bit cliche, but it was cliche for a reason. Coyotes are like wolves, and wolves are cool. He wasn't exactly sure what the difference was. He'd have to look it up when he got home, this would be bugging him all night.
He sat down on a chair, a few seats away from both of the people sitting there, who he vaguely recognized from school. They might know him, but if they didn't he'd rather not risk "conversation". Explaining the fact that he was deaf was so tiresome without a translator, and as Daniel was studying at home, in a panic over some novel he was assigned, Michael was left on his own.
So. Laser tag. Hopefully more people would arrive soon. It looked like he was on a team with the blond guy, against the brown-haired girl in the corner. Hopefully they were worthy allies/foes. Nothing was worse than a mediocre game of laser tag. Nothing.
Michael stood in front of a fighting game, (Street Fighter Alpha 3, to be exact) his concentrated gaze nearly burning a hole through the screen. This was it, dammit. This was what all his training had come to. He had the experience of an entire bored afternoon behind him, and he would not lose!
...He thought, as M. Bison knocked Sakura out. Well. Shit. He turned away from the machine in disgust, having watched the bad ending nearly a dozen times already. Whose idea was it to not let you continue if you die at the end, anyway? Evil businessmen. That's who. Eh, he guessed it wasn't a big deal. Blaming an arcade machine for being a coin-eater is like blaming a cat for killing your couch. It's just what they do.
Michael had spent most of the afternoon here. After a week, sick in bed with only the cold, pitiless grasp of the internet for company (well, and his grandparents, along with copious amounts of chicken soup, but he was trying to be dramatic here!) he'd jumped at the chance to spend some time out of the house. Get some fresh air.
Well, in practice, get lots of that weird, somewhat stuffy arcade air. But still. It's the thought that counts. He turned his gaze to the countless other machines, lined up in rows. He'd already beaten Time Crisis 2 and 3, and he didn't like the other light gun games. He wasn't in the mood for any fighting games, at the moment, nor did he feel like playing some retro thingamajig. Dance Dance Revolution and its ilk were out of the question, obviously.
At last, he gazed at the entrance to the laser tag arena. This could be fun. He hadn't had a good game of laser tag in a while. Anyway, it was always fun to live a cover shooter. Michael ambled over to the dude manning the counter. Thankfully, as Michael was a regular, most of the cashiers recognized him, therefore avoiding annoying questions. Michael held up four fingers, and handed the money over. Four games should be more than enough.
He retrieved his gun, slid the gear on easily over his green button-down shirt, and quickly adjusted his fedora. It wouldn't do to have it fall off during the fight, and he sure wasn't going to leave it out here, where anyone could steal it. Sure, he doubted that anyone cared enough to steal his hat, but still. He liked his hat, and preferred to keep it.
Michael quickly checked his code name. "Coyote". A reasonably cool name. Maybe a bit cliche, but it was cliche for a reason. Coyotes are like wolves, and wolves are cool. He wasn't exactly sure what the difference was. He'd have to look it up when he got home, this would be bugging him all night.
He sat down on a chair, a few seats away from both of the people sitting there, who he vaguely recognized from school. They might know him, but if they didn't he'd rather not risk "conversation". Explaining the fact that he was deaf was so tiresome without a translator, and as Daniel was studying at home, in a panic over some novel he was assigned, Michael was left on his own.
So. Laser tag. Hopefully more people would arrive soon. It looked like he was on a team with the blond guy, against the brown-haired girl in the corner. Hopefully they were worthy allies/foes. Nothing was worse than a mediocre game of laser tag. Nothing.
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Courtography
- Posts: 210
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:52 pm
(Enter Jessica Murphy)
It was a good night. Jessica was having a great time with Sarah and Brittany. They had messed around in the arcade for awhile, which was always fun. Jessica was fantastic at Skeeball after all. Sure, her sisters got annoyed with losing, but Jessica couldn't lose just to make them feel better, could she? Nope.
But now it was laser tag time. Something where they could work as a team. Just put on their vests and have the three of them tag everyone else. Sarah would probably tag her once just to try to get her mad. Although they were getting on better lately. Oh well, if that happened Jessica could just smile and laugh, it always seemed to go okay.
When they got into the waiting room it looked like there were three people there, one girl on one team, and two guys on the others. Well this could work okay. She let out a cheer of "girl power!" when she sat down next to the other girl.
Fun times.
It was a good night. Jessica was having a great time with Sarah and Brittany. They had messed around in the arcade for awhile, which was always fun. Jessica was fantastic at Skeeball after all. Sure, her sisters got annoyed with losing, but Jessica couldn't lose just to make them feel better, could she? Nope.
But now it was laser tag time. Something where they could work as a team. Just put on their vests and have the three of them tag everyone else. Sarah would probably tag her once just to try to get her mad. Although they were getting on better lately. Oh well, if that happened Jessica could just smile and laugh, it always seemed to go okay.
When they got into the waiting room it looked like there were three people there, one girl on one team, and two guys on the others. Well this could work okay. She let out a cheer of "girl power!" when she sat down next to the other girl.
Fun times.
((Lars Nylund continued from No Waiting on Checkstand Three))
Everyone needed entertainment, and Lars wasn't different. Normally he would prefer a quiet night a home, or an evening with friends. But he still had some money left from the holidays, and he hadn't been to The Castle for a while, so it was about time he'd come by. His first ten minutes were spent being requited with the arcade, and the next ten were spent deciding what he should do. So many things to do, and not enough time in one trip.
After passing the waiting area for laser tag he decided it was worth a game or two.
He paid for two games, and was given his gun and codename: Vulture.
He wondered how that was bad-ass at all as he sat down in the chair. He crossed his legs as he looked around the room, and he recognized a good chunk of them from school. He considered talking to someone, but stared at the floor instead. Waiting for the game to start, Lars was wondering if he'd last more than five minutes. He didn't even remember what the room was like, and how would that affect his strategy? Should he even have a strategy, or just have mindless fun?
He needed to take his mind of this. It was fucking laser tag, not metaphysics. Unless he started to think about the metaphysics of laser tag, but that was just stupid.
Lars took his phone out of his pocket, and started to mindlessly fiddle with it until the game started.
Everyone needed entertainment, and Lars wasn't different. Normally he would prefer a quiet night a home, or an evening with friends. But he still had some money left from the holidays, and he hadn't been to The Castle for a while, so it was about time he'd come by. His first ten minutes were spent being requited with the arcade, and the next ten were spent deciding what he should do. So many things to do, and not enough time in one trip.
After passing the waiting area for laser tag he decided it was worth a game or two.
He paid for two games, and was given his gun and codename: Vulture.
He wondered how that was bad-ass at all as he sat down in the chair. He crossed his legs as he looked around the room, and he recognized a good chunk of them from school. He considered talking to someone, but stared at the floor instead. Waiting for the game to start, Lars was wondering if he'd last more than five minutes. He didn't even remember what the room was like, and how would that affect his strategy? Should he even have a strategy, or just have mindless fun?
He needed to take his mind of this. It was fucking laser tag, not metaphysics. Unless he started to think about the metaphysics of laser tag, but that was just stupid.
Lars took his phone out of his pocket, and started to mindlessly fiddle with it until the game started.
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chitoryu12*
- Posts: 96
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:07 am
((Clayton Leven START.....ish))
Clayton still wasn't sure what convinced him to jump into the laser tag arena and get suited up for a game. He wasn't much of a "gun guy", and there were plenty of other games around The Castle that he could be playing. Clayton figured that trying something new would always be good, but he still wasn't much for the physical exertion of running around wearing a sensor-laden vest and trying not to get shot in the eye with infrared beams.
Nonetheless, Clayton Levin was here. "Jackal", he had been designated according to the neon green lettering emblazoned across the side of the gun and the logo on his back, just above his rear sensor. There would be no doubt that he'd be easily spotted and shot to pieces by anyone who didn't like dogs.
Fuckin' birds.
Clayton took a seat next to Dingo, giving him a courtesy nod as he looked over his laser pistol.
Clayton still wasn't sure what convinced him to jump into the laser tag arena and get suited up for a game. He wasn't much of a "gun guy", and there were plenty of other games around The Castle that he could be playing. Clayton figured that trying something new would always be good, but he still wasn't much for the physical exertion of running around wearing a sensor-laden vest and trying not to get shot in the eye with infrared beams.
Nonetheless, Clayton Levin was here. "Jackal", he had been designated according to the neon green lettering emblazoned across the side of the gun and the logo on his back, just above his rear sensor. There would be no doubt that he'd be easily spotted and shot to pieces by anyone who didn't like dogs.
Fuckin' birds.
Clayton took a seat next to Dingo, giving him a courtesy nod as he looked over his laser pistol.
Claire continued to giggle in her seat as other people entered the laser tag waiting area.
There was a boy and girl who came in together. Claire didn't recognize them, they were probably from a different school. They paid for their rounds and received red guns. Claire's gun was blue. According to the nickname sheet, they were doing Canines (Red) versus Raptors (Blue). Claire was "Hawk", so she was a Raptor. The boy was apparently "Wolf" while his girlfriend (?) was "Husky".
After that, another boy with long blonde hair and a large jacket came in. He took a seat a few yards down from Claire and fiddled with his zipper a bit. Claire looked at the number on his red gun and looked at the nickname sheet, and found that he was "Dingo".
Man, are they going to have anyone play on my team? I feel like Stallone in fucking First Blood here.
A boy with a fedora was the next to enter the area. Claire saw the red gun he received and saw him point to the name "Coyote" on the nickname sheet.
Great, I'm against Bonnie, Clyde, Kurt Cobain in a leather jacket, and Indiana Jones. This will be a fun, totally not rigged game.
Fortunately for Claire, three sisters soon entered the waiting area. Claire figured they were sisters due to their similar appearances, but all that mattered were the blue guns they received. The oldest of the three saw Claire and shouted "Girl Power!" before sitting next to her.
"Yeah, Girl Power!" said Claire to the girl.
As she laughed about this, another boy entered and was given a blue gun. Claire recognized him as Lars Nylund. She hung out with Lars a few time when she hung out with a few friends like Oswaldo and Alex. He was pretty cool, and now she was playing laser tag with him.
Wow, Lars is straight pimpin'. On a team with four chicks, all armed with laser guns in warfare. Sounds like a sci-fi themed porno, like a genderflipped version of Aliens or something.
Before Claire could say anything to Lars, one last boy entered the waiting room with a red gun. That meant that both teams were full for the next match.
A few moments later, a group of kids exited the arena. An attendant issued the ten waiting players into a small room. The attendant quickly explained the rules.
"Okay, all you guys have to do is shoot the people wearing the vests of the opposite teams. Shooting people on the same team will do nothing. Every player can get hit on the chest, back, and gun. The chest earns you five points, the back ten, and the gun fifteen. The team with the most points in the end wins the game. If you're hit, you won't be able to fire for ten seconds. For safety reasons, you should not run inside the course, and turn corners very slowly. Also, don't cover your sensors, that's just rude. You guys will have fifteen minutes to play, so let's get started."
The attendant then instructed them to put on the vests and ushered them into the arena. They would have two minutes to move around the arena all they liked before the game began. Claire hurried off to her right and began to move quickly.
Alright, just avoid the three sisters and Lars and you are good. Man, this black light really makes the dust on my shirt stand out. Where does all that dust come from anyways? That might be something to look up later. Shit, focus Claire. Okay, just keep your back to a wall. Maybe there's an alcove I can hide behind. Bah, I'll find one later, let's just get ready to kick ass. Now, what music do I use to score this to? Oh, I know, that cover of "Immigrant Song" from the The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo remake. Yeah! Yeah! "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh." Okay, now who were my opponents? Oh yeah, anyone in red. Duh-doy!
Before Claire knew it, the starting bell rang. The game was ready to start.
Yeah, let's go. Take it away Karen O.
"GIVE 'EM HELL!!!!!" shouted Claire as she began to move throughout the arena. War had begun.
There was a boy and girl who came in together. Claire didn't recognize them, they were probably from a different school. They paid for their rounds and received red guns. Claire's gun was blue. According to the nickname sheet, they were doing Canines (Red) versus Raptors (Blue). Claire was "Hawk", so she was a Raptor. The boy was apparently "Wolf" while his girlfriend (?) was "Husky".
After that, another boy with long blonde hair and a large jacket came in. He took a seat a few yards down from Claire and fiddled with his zipper a bit. Claire looked at the number on his red gun and looked at the nickname sheet, and found that he was "Dingo".
Man, are they going to have anyone play on my team? I feel like Stallone in fucking First Blood here.
A boy with a fedora was the next to enter the area. Claire saw the red gun he received and saw him point to the name "Coyote" on the nickname sheet.
Great, I'm against Bonnie, Clyde, Kurt Cobain in a leather jacket, and Indiana Jones. This will be a fun, totally not rigged game.
Fortunately for Claire, three sisters soon entered the waiting area. Claire figured they were sisters due to their similar appearances, but all that mattered were the blue guns they received. The oldest of the three saw Claire and shouted "Girl Power!" before sitting next to her.
"Yeah, Girl Power!" said Claire to the girl.
As she laughed about this, another boy entered and was given a blue gun. Claire recognized him as Lars Nylund. She hung out with Lars a few time when she hung out with a few friends like Oswaldo and Alex. He was pretty cool, and now she was playing laser tag with him.
Wow, Lars is straight pimpin'. On a team with four chicks, all armed with laser guns in warfare. Sounds like a sci-fi themed porno, like a genderflipped version of Aliens or something.
Before Claire could say anything to Lars, one last boy entered the waiting room with a red gun. That meant that both teams were full for the next match.
A few moments later, a group of kids exited the arena. An attendant issued the ten waiting players into a small room. The attendant quickly explained the rules.
"Okay, all you guys have to do is shoot the people wearing the vests of the opposite teams. Shooting people on the same team will do nothing. Every player can get hit on the chest, back, and gun. The chest earns you five points, the back ten, and the gun fifteen. The team with the most points in the end wins the game. If you're hit, you won't be able to fire for ten seconds. For safety reasons, you should not run inside the course, and turn corners very slowly. Also, don't cover your sensors, that's just rude. You guys will have fifteen minutes to play, so let's get started."
The attendant then instructed them to put on the vests and ushered them into the arena. They would have two minutes to move around the arena all they liked before the game began. Claire hurried off to her right and began to move quickly.
Alright, just avoid the three sisters and Lars and you are good. Man, this black light really makes the dust on my shirt stand out. Where does all that dust come from anyways? That might be something to look up later. Shit, focus Claire. Okay, just keep your back to a wall. Maybe there's an alcove I can hide behind. Bah, I'll find one later, let's just get ready to kick ass. Now, what music do I use to score this to? Oh, I know, that cover of "Immigrant Song" from the The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo remake. Yeah! Yeah! "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh." Okay, now who were my opponents? Oh yeah, anyone in red. Duh-doy!
Before Claire knew it, the starting bell rang. The game was ready to start.
Yeah, let's go. Take it away Karen O.
"GIVE 'EM HELL!!!!!" shouted Claire as she began to move throughout the arena. War had begun.
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2754
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Zip.
New people. Almost all of them were people Adam knew by sight from school. Weird. This was a little bit disconcerting. It meant he had to actually not go apeshit when the game started. Actions like that could haunt him at school or (worse!) could cause drama. He did not want to be involved in drama. He certainly did not want to be involved in the sort of crazy shit people got into in their out of school times. This association was going to be a purely professional affair.
In keeping with his aspirations to professional behavior, Adam figured it was time for a quick appraisal of his assets. Team Canine included The Wolf, The Husky, The Jackal, The Coyote, and The Dingo. Team Raptor included a bunch of girls and one dude. They were very close to having a boys vs. girls thing going on, just that one dude and The Husky were fucking it up. Adam was pretty chill, but that was kind of offensive to what organizational sensibilities he possessed. It'd be like putting Fountain in a gallery with the Mona Lisa, Guernica, and the Raft of the Medusa. Yeah, they were all great works of art, but there'd still be a urinal hanging in a room full of classical paintings.
Good thing Adam wasn't the odd one out. The Jackal gave him a nod, and he returned it automatically before wondering whether he'd messed up the aura of cool professionalism he'd been building by displaying camaraderie. Probably not. This was one of those teamwork things, a band of misfits coming together to play laser tag. Adam was fairly sure no teamwork was actually going to be involved in the actions of Team Canine, though, unless The Wolf and The Husky had already planned some kind of secret battle strategy between the two of them. No, this was going to be raw chaos, a bloodbath unadulterated by the mediating factors of people actually trying to play things smartly. Then there would be Adam, standing alone above the flames, chuckling as he picked off the opposing team one by one. He was faking people out with that nod. Then he'd do things like a professional, and they'd not only lose but also be surprised to find themselves losing. That would make it all the sweeter.
Zip.
Suddenly, it was time to begin.
Adam did not jump to his feet. He stood slowly, rolled his shoulders and stretched a bit after all—bring it, motherfuckers, I am so ready for you now—and sauntered after the group into the room where they were to be briefed. He paid half attention to the rules, but was also checking out Team Raptor, searching for the weak links. That was the way to do it. Cull the weak, then surround and overpower the strong.
Giggling 'Nam flashback girl was probably not a weak link. She was probably the one who was gonna sneak up on Adam and pistol whip him just for kicks. Breaking the normal mode of insanity and cramped quarters, there was always one bozo who figured they'd be a commando. It didn't even matter that the rules made that an unappealing prospect for scoring points. For some, laser tag was not about points. It was about war.
Next, the time limit: fifteen minutes. That was more than enough for now. They moved into the room, finding positions. Adam hugged one of the curtains, pressing his back against it as much as he could press his back against a soft object that wasn't really anchored particularly well. This terrain information was important reconnaissance stuff. He wouldn't want to try to kick off one of these things for a roll or something and wipe out. He had enough trouble explaining injuries without adding laser tag damage to the pile.
Then the bell sounded. Game on. He crouched a bit, lowering his profile. Someone shouted somewhere. It was chaos, chaos and insanity and the game had only just begun. Adam stayed on the defensive for the moment, waiting for someone to come at him. The start of the game was when people cut loose with all their energy, just like any fight. That meant it was the time to stay low. He'd sweep up in the mid and late game, when he'd be running on full power while the others started to drop.
It'd be professional. That was certain.
New people. Almost all of them were people Adam knew by sight from school. Weird. This was a little bit disconcerting. It meant he had to actually not go apeshit when the game started. Actions like that could haunt him at school or (worse!) could cause drama. He did not want to be involved in drama. He certainly did not want to be involved in the sort of crazy shit people got into in their out of school times. This association was going to be a purely professional affair.
In keeping with his aspirations to professional behavior, Adam figured it was time for a quick appraisal of his assets. Team Canine included The Wolf, The Husky, The Jackal, The Coyote, and The Dingo. Team Raptor included a bunch of girls and one dude. They were very close to having a boys vs. girls thing going on, just that one dude and The Husky were fucking it up. Adam was pretty chill, but that was kind of offensive to what organizational sensibilities he possessed. It'd be like putting Fountain in a gallery with the Mona Lisa, Guernica, and the Raft of the Medusa. Yeah, they were all great works of art, but there'd still be a urinal hanging in a room full of classical paintings.
Good thing Adam wasn't the odd one out. The Jackal gave him a nod, and he returned it automatically before wondering whether he'd messed up the aura of cool professionalism he'd been building by displaying camaraderie. Probably not. This was one of those teamwork things, a band of misfits coming together to play laser tag. Adam was fairly sure no teamwork was actually going to be involved in the actions of Team Canine, though, unless The Wolf and The Husky had already planned some kind of secret battle strategy between the two of them. No, this was going to be raw chaos, a bloodbath unadulterated by the mediating factors of people actually trying to play things smartly. Then there would be Adam, standing alone above the flames, chuckling as he picked off the opposing team one by one. He was faking people out with that nod. Then he'd do things like a professional, and they'd not only lose but also be surprised to find themselves losing. That would make it all the sweeter.
Zip.
Suddenly, it was time to begin.
Adam did not jump to his feet. He stood slowly, rolled his shoulders and stretched a bit after all—bring it, motherfuckers, I am so ready for you now—and sauntered after the group into the room where they were to be briefed. He paid half attention to the rules, but was also checking out Team Raptor, searching for the weak links. That was the way to do it. Cull the weak, then surround and overpower the strong.
Giggling 'Nam flashback girl was probably not a weak link. She was probably the one who was gonna sneak up on Adam and pistol whip him just for kicks. Breaking the normal mode of insanity and cramped quarters, there was always one bozo who figured they'd be a commando. It didn't even matter that the rules made that an unappealing prospect for scoring points. For some, laser tag was not about points. It was about war.
Next, the time limit: fifteen minutes. That was more than enough for now. They moved into the room, finding positions. Adam hugged one of the curtains, pressing his back against it as much as he could press his back against a soft object that wasn't really anchored particularly well. This terrain information was important reconnaissance stuff. He wouldn't want to try to kick off one of these things for a roll or something and wipe out. He had enough trouble explaining injuries without adding laser tag damage to the pile.
Then the bell sounded. Game on. He crouched a bit, lowering his profile. Someone shouted somewhere. It was chaos, chaos and insanity and the game had only just begun. Adam stayed on the defensive for the moment, waiting for someone to come at him. The start of the game was when people cut loose with all their energy, just like any fight. That meant it was the time to stay low. He'd sweep up in the mid and late game, when he'd be running on full power while the others started to drop.
It'd be professional. That was certain.
Michael had used the time remaining 'till the game started to brush up on the rules, conveniently posted on the wall behind him. The game was 15 minutes long, huh? A full hour of laser tag seemed a bit much. He'd mis-remembered the length, apparently. Oh well. Maybe he could get a refund or something. Don't worry about the future for now. There is tagging with beams of concentrated light to do.
Man, laser tag would be much easier if he could just Master Spark everyone. Of course, he'd probably only get the boss version of it, the one that was actually dodgeable. Wait, he was seriously pondering the logistics of laser tag Touhou. What was wrong with him? Nothing, because Touhou is awesome, and fuck anyone who disagrees. Fuck 'em with a tea set.
And so Michael passed the rest of his time, barely noticing the others who gradually joined the waiting. After a few minutes, the previous occupants of the room were ejected, and the rag-tag bunch of laser taggers were escorted into the room. As the attendant (presumably) explained the rules to the rest of the dudes, Michael took a second to examine the competition.
There was that one girl from earlier, three new girls whom seemed to be friends, and some random guy. Huh, he recognized all of them from school. That's a bit of a coincidence. Not ridiculous, THE SPY WAS THE FATHER OF THE KING'S COUSIN'S MOTHER, AND THEY ALL WENT TO THE SAME ORPHANAGE or anything like that, but more of a low-key coincidence, like eating a cake on the day you play Portal.
Michael glanced at his team. That one guy, a boy and a girl who seemed to be together (maybe even "together", if you get what the mental air quotes are implying) and another kid from school. Hell, it looked like that one couple(?) were the only ones he didn't recognize to some extent. That would make this a medium-rank coincidence, like dying on your birthday. That's a bit morbid, though. He'd have to refrain from using death in internal monologue examples in the future.
After a short while, the official finished whatever he was saying, and the players dispersed to secure locations before the game started. Alright, it was time to do or die! And by death, he meant death by shame! Shame at the dishonor! Shame at the sheer lack of willpower required to fail a game of laser tag!
Michael quickly found a suitable location. It was sort of like a box, walled in with only one entrance. However, one of the walls had a rather sizable window. Excellent. This place was easily defensible, the window allowed for possible sneak attacks, and no one would be able to sneak up on him. Sure, he may not get as many points as he would by going full-on non-shellshocked-veteran Rambo, but he also didn't have to deal with not noticing "wounds" until his gun stopped working due to them being inflicted on his back. That always sucked.
A siren flashed, indicating the start of the game, and Michael readied himself for the ultimate form of combat, or at least the ultimate form of combat that didn't involve shooting cute monster girls, dancing between bullets, and tea parties.
Man, laser tag would be much easier if he could just Master Spark everyone. Of course, he'd probably only get the boss version of it, the one that was actually dodgeable. Wait, he was seriously pondering the logistics of laser tag Touhou. What was wrong with him? Nothing, because Touhou is awesome, and fuck anyone who disagrees. Fuck 'em with a tea set.
And so Michael passed the rest of his time, barely noticing the others who gradually joined the waiting. After a few minutes, the previous occupants of the room were ejected, and the rag-tag bunch of laser taggers were escorted into the room. As the attendant (presumably) explained the rules to the rest of the dudes, Michael took a second to examine the competition.
There was that one girl from earlier, three new girls whom seemed to be friends, and some random guy. Huh, he recognized all of them from school. That's a bit of a coincidence. Not ridiculous, THE SPY WAS THE FATHER OF THE KING'S COUSIN'S MOTHER, AND THEY ALL WENT TO THE SAME ORPHANAGE or anything like that, but more of a low-key coincidence, like eating a cake on the day you play Portal.
Michael glanced at his team. That one guy, a boy and a girl who seemed to be together (maybe even "together", if you get what the mental air quotes are implying) and another kid from school. Hell, it looked like that one couple(?) were the only ones he didn't recognize to some extent. That would make this a medium-rank coincidence, like dying on your birthday. That's a bit morbid, though. He'd have to refrain from using death in internal monologue examples in the future.
After a short while, the official finished whatever he was saying, and the players dispersed to secure locations before the game started. Alright, it was time to do or die! And by death, he meant death by shame! Shame at the dishonor! Shame at the sheer lack of willpower required to fail a game of laser tag!
Michael quickly found a suitable location. It was sort of like a box, walled in with only one entrance. However, one of the walls had a rather sizable window. Excellent. This place was easily defensible, the window allowed for possible sneak attacks, and no one would be able to sneak up on him. Sure, he may not get as many points as he would by going full-on non-shellshocked-veteran Rambo, but he also didn't have to deal with not noticing "wounds" until his gun stopped working due to them being inflicted on his back. That always sucked.
A siren flashed, indicating the start of the game, and Michael readied himself for the ultimate form of combat, or at least the ultimate form of combat that didn't involve shooting cute monster girls, dancing between bullets, and tea parties.
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Courtography
- Posts: 210
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:52 pm
The teams were animal themed, which would have been pretty cute if they hadn't picked violent animals. They could have chosen nicer birds or dogs, but apparently not. This was laser tag, where it was an extreme fight, obviously. Jessica was Osprey, Sarah was Eagle, and Brittany was Falcon.
They had their guns and they'd do their normal strategy, the strategy being used one time about a year ago: surround someone and keep following them to get points until they got away or someone else showed up.
It was pretty fun.
The guy explained the rules, pretty obvious, don't cheat. Don't run. Don't poke your sister in the eye. Sarah. Then they entered the playing room. The three sisters immediately moved around trying to find a spot of cover, but with good visibility to the rest of the area. That way they could spot someone before they were in danger.
Go time.
They had their guns and they'd do their normal strategy, the strategy being used one time about a year ago: surround someone and keep following them to get points until they got away or someone else showed up.
It was pretty fun.
The guy explained the rules, pretty obvious, don't cheat. Don't run. Don't poke your sister in the eye. Sarah. Then they entered the playing room. The three sisters immediately moved around trying to find a spot of cover, but with good visibility to the rest of the area. That way they could spot someone before they were in danger.
Go time.
As everyone rushed off Lars was wandering around with a vest the felt too big wondering what to do. Three of the chicks (who Lars figured were sisters) on his team apparently had their priorities straight, and the other one made him a little nervous. Still deciding if he should follow her, Lars looked around to find he was alone. Lightly bonking the gun on his head he smiled. I really need to get my shit together. After looking up to see where he was going the sirens and lights went off, and in a start Lars jumped and yipped,
"Shit!" Covering his mouth wide eyed, Lars looked around to see if anyone was coming for him. Isn't swearing against the rules, and there's little kids in here. After waiting a few seconds, Lars realized he wasn't going to get kicked out. Walking quickly in another direction, Lars tried to keep an eye out for teammates or otherwise. Seeing a flash of red, Lars squeezed the trigger frantically and moved to the right for cover. Over estimating the space he had, his body lightly bumped the wall of the course. Fuck me running. He thought while biting his lip, to make sure he didn't say it.
Turning around, Lars waited to see if the flash of red would come for him. Pointing his gun towards the opening, hoping years of tennis would prove useful here.
"Shit!" Covering his mouth wide eyed, Lars looked around to see if anyone was coming for him. Isn't swearing against the rules, and there's little kids in here. After waiting a few seconds, Lars realized he wasn't going to get kicked out. Walking quickly in another direction, Lars tried to keep an eye out for teammates or otherwise. Seeing a flash of red, Lars squeezed the trigger frantically and moved to the right for cover. Over estimating the space he had, his body lightly bumped the wall of the course. Fuck me running. He thought while biting his lip, to make sure he didn't say it.
Turning around, Lars waited to see if the flash of red would come for him. Pointing his gun towards the opening, hoping years of tennis would prove useful here.
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chitoryu12*
- Posts: 96
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:07 am
Clayton had barely any clue what he was doing.
Hiding in a little corner formed by two neon-lined rectangles meeting in an L-shape that the 80s would have greatly enjoyed, he simply crouched into the shadows and hoped that nobody would notice him. In spite of his video game-honed reflexes that should have turned him into a simulated murdering machine, he had never actually held a fake weapon and been sent off to do any of it for real.
As the siren blared through the arena, he watched as people ran about, taking cover or firing. The zap of light beams echoed throughout the arena, mixed with a stereotypically pulse-pounding techno beat.
What the hell is this?
Hiding in a little corner formed by two neon-lined rectangles meeting in an L-shape that the 80s would have greatly enjoyed, he simply crouched into the shadows and hoped that nobody would notice him. In spite of his video game-honed reflexes that should have turned him into a simulated murdering machine, he had never actually held a fake weapon and been sent off to do any of it for real.
As the siren blared through the arena, he watched as people ran about, taking cover or firing. The zap of light beams echoed throughout the arena, mixed with a stereotypically pulse-pounding techno beat.
What the hell is this?
Weecumfromthelandofaiusnowwithamillionafterglows. Damn, I should've looked up the lyrics of that song before I came here.
Claire hurried down a row and fired her gun at one of the red team members. The person got out of the way before she hit them.
Damn. Missed. Okay, instrumental version. Ba dum dum da dum dum da dum dum da dum dum. AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!
Claire felt a rumble on her back. Someone must have hit her in the back.
"Aaagh!" shouted Claire as she quickly moved down the rows, passing by one of the girls on her team.
Okay, ten more seconds. After that, I go Arnold on their asses. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. FUCK THE POLICE!!!!!
Claire shouted as she proceeded to hurry around the room firing rapidly. She was pretty sure she hit the boy of the red team couple.
Okay, finished Immigrant Song. What's next? Oh shit, Husky's avenging her B.F! Getawaygetawaygetawaygetaway. Okay, I'm safe, I think. Uh, okay, um, fuck, where are those lasers coming from?
Claire put herself against a corner and began firing at random.
Okay, I hope friendly fire is off. Because if I hit Lars or any of those girls, I'd be quite a bitch. OH! Kashmir! Hell yeah, Zeppelin makes the best action music. Dun a dun. Dun a dun. Dun a dun. Okay, no more games. Gloves are off. It's time for me to kick ass and take numbers and all those other action one liners. Man, I need original stuff. Okay, just keep laying down suppression fire and maybe AHA! EAT THAT HUSKY!!!!! YEAH, I GOT THIS. I WILL RUIN YOU, ALL OF YOU!!!!!
Claire continued to fire in hopes that she hit enough Red guys. The game was nearing completion, and Claire had to do whatever she could do ensure that Blue Team was victorious.
"Eat my lasers you red pansies!!!!!!!" she shouted as she continued firing in all open directions.
Hot damn! I'm on fire!!!!!!! I've got this!!!!
Claire hurried down a row and fired her gun at one of the red team members. The person got out of the way before she hit them.
Damn. Missed. Okay, instrumental version. Ba dum dum da dum dum da dum dum da dum dum. AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!
Claire felt a rumble on her back. Someone must have hit her in the back.
"Aaagh!" shouted Claire as she quickly moved down the rows, passing by one of the girls on her team.
Okay, ten more seconds. After that, I go Arnold on their asses. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. FUCK THE POLICE!!!!!
Claire shouted as she proceeded to hurry around the room firing rapidly. She was pretty sure she hit the boy of the red team couple.
Okay, finished Immigrant Song. What's next? Oh shit, Husky's avenging her B.F! Getawaygetawaygetawaygetaway. Okay, I'm safe, I think. Uh, okay, um, fuck, where are those lasers coming from?
Claire put herself against a corner and began firing at random.
Okay, I hope friendly fire is off. Because if I hit Lars or any of those girls, I'd be quite a bitch. OH! Kashmir! Hell yeah, Zeppelin makes the best action music. Dun a dun. Dun a dun. Dun a dun. Okay, no more games. Gloves are off. It's time for me to kick ass and take numbers and all those other action one liners. Man, I need original stuff. Okay, just keep laying down suppression fire and maybe AHA! EAT THAT HUSKY!!!!! YEAH, I GOT THIS. I WILL RUIN YOU, ALL OF YOU!!!!!
Claire continued to fire in hopes that she hit enough Red guys. The game was nearing completion, and Claire had to do whatever she could do ensure that Blue Team was victorious.
"Eat my lasers you red pansies!!!!!!!" she shouted as she continued firing in all open directions.
Hot damn! I'm on fire!!!!!!! I've got this!!!!
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2754
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Being a professional was not so easy, when acting in a professional manner was liable to get one owned by the speed freak dingbats who didn't have any sort of strategy. That was fine. Adam was cool with losing now and then. He'd gotten zinged a few times already, while waiting for the mid-game to sweep everyone up. Well, okay, to be fair he hadn't actually been waiting. He'd gotten bored with waiting about thirty seconds in. Who had the time to stand around? They'd paid for this shit. He wouldn't pay to wear a stupid vest and lean against a wall in normal circumstances. What made this so special? He didn't even know if they tracked how often you got hit. What was important was landing your own blows, getting into the mix of things.
Problem was, Adam kept getting shot. He didn't even know who was doing it. Probably some damn camper, some filthy little bearded man who thought this was Halo or something. The creeper was probably right behind him, lurking, waiting, looming in the shadows.
Adam turned a corner, paused, spun around. He did not shout "A-ha," or anything like that, just calmly and casually pulled the trigger half a dozen times.
There was nobody behind him. He calmly and casually glanced around, trying to make sure nobody was looking. It was hard to say. This entire environment was completely disorienting. He could barely even concentrate enough to think with the flashing lights and the noises and the people running everywhere. It was probably specifically designed to mess people up, to make it easier on the kids. Everything catered to kids these days, like it wasn't enough you were supposed to let them win anyways. Then, when there weren't any kids, these games by default favored the least mature. It was some sort of terrible leveling factor, where skill was actually a handicap.
Adam's pack buzzed, again. Someone had nailed him. Again. He took a deep breath, glanced around, and ducked for cover (again), taking advantage of his time out to find a better place to hide.
Really, laser tag was losing its enchantment in a real hurry. This was the sort of thing that would be more tolerable with his sisters, because they sucked way worse than he did.
Adam poked his head up, aimed at a blur, and fired again and again. Somewhere in there, his gun stopped working. He'd taken another hit, from who-knew-where. He took another deep breath and ducked once more.
He had no idea if he'd tagged anyone. For that matter, he wasn't sure how long was left in the game or how many hits he'd scored overall. It wasn't too important. The scorecard at the end would tell all.
Problem was, Adam kept getting shot. He didn't even know who was doing it. Probably some damn camper, some filthy little bearded man who thought this was Halo or something. The creeper was probably right behind him, lurking, waiting, looming in the shadows.
Adam turned a corner, paused, spun around. He did not shout "A-ha," or anything like that, just calmly and casually pulled the trigger half a dozen times.
There was nobody behind him. He calmly and casually glanced around, trying to make sure nobody was looking. It was hard to say. This entire environment was completely disorienting. He could barely even concentrate enough to think with the flashing lights and the noises and the people running everywhere. It was probably specifically designed to mess people up, to make it easier on the kids. Everything catered to kids these days, like it wasn't enough you were supposed to let them win anyways. Then, when there weren't any kids, these games by default favored the least mature. It was some sort of terrible leveling factor, where skill was actually a handicap.
Adam's pack buzzed, again. Someone had nailed him. Again. He took a deep breath, glanced around, and ducked for cover (again), taking advantage of his time out to find a better place to hide.
Really, laser tag was losing its enchantment in a real hurry. This was the sort of thing that would be more tolerable with his sisters, because they sucked way worse than he did.
Adam poked his head up, aimed at a blur, and fired again and again. Somewhere in there, his gun stopped working. He'd taken another hit, from who-knew-where. He took another deep breath and ducked once more.
He had no idea if he'd tagged anyone. For that matter, he wasn't sure how long was left in the game or how many hits he'd scored overall. It wasn't too important. The scorecard at the end would tell all.
Michael flattened himself against the corner of the doorway, trying to stay as low to the ground as possible. He'd been flushed out of his position a couple of minutes ago. It'd been a hard fought battle, one that would have stories told of it for generations to come, but he was outnumbered from the start. Freakin' zerg rushes. One man, however accurate, stood no chance against the oppressive horde.
He'd managed to escape, however, with the help of the sole girl on his team. Kinda funny when you thought about it. Both teams were mostly mono-gender, with the exception of one member. If they'd been swapped they could have had a genuine battle of the sexes. Michael was fine with how it turned out, though. Those types of fights usually had some message, delivered with all the subtly of an anvil cannon, about how girls could do just as well in sports as boys. Michael had nothing against that, but he didn't feel like being made to lose due to prove some point on a kids show.
Oh, yeah. Laser tag. That was certainly a thing that was going on. Michael looked across the doorway, where the girl was also crouching down. She'd ended up teaming up after with Michael his escape. One of the blue members had apparently gone batshit crazy, hiding herself in a corner and firing wildly. Michael had developed a plan with his teammate through a series of hand gestures. The aforementioned insane enemy was right through this doorway. Perfect target for an ambush.
Michael held his hand up, counting down with his fingers.
Three.
Two.
One.
Michael gestured through the doorway. The teammate entered, gun drawn, followed quickly by Michael. The two opened fire on the girl standing in the corner. Hells yeah! This was teamwork! This was tactics! Sure, after a couple hits the vests made themselves invulnerable to allow the user to escape, but that shut down the gun as well. Hopefully this assault would knock the crazy one's gun offline quick enough to prevent counterattack.
Michael had no idea what the score was, but he was going to do his damnedest to win. FOR HONOR! FOR GLORY!
He'd managed to escape, however, with the help of the sole girl on his team. Kinda funny when you thought about it. Both teams were mostly mono-gender, with the exception of one member. If they'd been swapped they could have had a genuine battle of the sexes. Michael was fine with how it turned out, though. Those types of fights usually had some message, delivered with all the subtly of an anvil cannon, about how girls could do just as well in sports as boys. Michael had nothing against that, but he didn't feel like being made to lose due to prove some point on a kids show.
Oh, yeah. Laser tag. That was certainly a thing that was going on. Michael looked across the doorway, where the girl was also crouching down. She'd ended up teaming up after with Michael his escape. One of the blue members had apparently gone batshit crazy, hiding herself in a corner and firing wildly. Michael had developed a plan with his teammate through a series of hand gestures. The aforementioned insane enemy was right through this doorway. Perfect target for an ambush.
Michael held his hand up, counting down with his fingers.
Three.
Two.
One.
Michael gestured through the doorway. The teammate entered, gun drawn, followed quickly by Michael. The two opened fire on the girl standing in the corner. Hells yeah! This was teamwork! This was tactics! Sure, after a couple hits the vests made themselves invulnerable to allow the user to escape, but that shut down the gun as well. Hopefully this assault would knock the crazy one's gun offline quick enough to prevent counterattack.
Michael had no idea what the score was, but he was going to do his damnedest to win. FOR HONOR! FOR GLORY!