There are many forms of combat that had gone on through the years. Whether it be fistfights, sword fights, dog fights, sport matches such as wrestling or basketball, there is one form of fight that lives on to this day where girls become women, boys become men, and men become gods......Laser Tag, the biggest and best form of combat. To those unfamiliar with the concept, it’s an elimination tournament that ends in only one man coming out as the victor, the hellish King of the Hill that takes away a man's dignity, pride and confidence. It's here we find the elephant in the darkly-lit room inside of a mall in New York, none other than the masked vigilante of France, Le Gentleman Masque. dressed in laser tag gear, holding one of the many artificial guns.
The Gent: It seems as though my wandering around in the mall has found me into hell itself. It's moments such as these you come to realize just exactly who you are. For example, Gent, it appears you have heightened senses. Fourteen men aged between the ages of seven and likely somewhere in their mid-thirties had entered. Now only two men stay: yourself and a second man. Strange considering I had absolutely no eliminations, yet here I am as the last of my kind. An odd situation that it is, is it not? The only question is where is the mystery man?
Hearing a shuffle, The Gent responds by aiming his Milton-Bradley manufactured pistol towards the direction it came from. Alas, he sees no one. Putting down his pistol once more, he tiptoes through the dark corridors of the claustrophobic arena, until his ears pick up the sound of a man he knows all too well
???: GOTCHA NOW, SUCKA!
Rolling out of the way, The Gent looks back towards the red light where the voice came from, pointing the lazer gun in his direction. Though it was dark, he could tell simply due to the light reflecting off of the Gent’s chest and towards the man’s afro and mustache that this man was not just any laser tag player: this was Action Saxton, former tag team champion as well as a hit with the ladies.
The Gent: Do my eyes deceive me or am I looking at the man who I am to be facing relatively soon.
Without putting his gun down, the brotha of WZCW nods in agreement.
Saxton: Well, well, if it ain’t that sucka who’s challenging for the tag team titles…
The Gent: I’m glad to know that I’m popular enough to be acknowledge by a man such as yourself, Saxton. I’ve done my homework on you, You’ve made quite a name for yourself, both inside and outside of WZCW. I never would have thought that we would be meeting earlier than expected in this. In fact, I’m quite surprised that Saboteur isn’t here with you. Was he already eliminated or was he never here to begin with?
Saxton: Saboteur? Let’s just say he and I are waiting to speak to each other again. It’s an incident involving a cheeseburger that I’d rather not talk about right now.
The Gent: A strange thing to get into a quarrel with your partner about, but I shall respect it. I take it you’re rooting for me against your partner, then?
Snickering, Saxton simply shakes his head as they maneuver around the room, both making sure at all times that their laser tag gun were pointed on one other.
Saxton: I never said that. Just that I wanted my damn Saxton Tower. So Gent, I didn’t take you as the type to enjoy stuff like this.
The Gent: Why Saxton, normally I would not, however I had recently lost my first ever poker game. I was looking into sports that I haven’t lost my first time. So far I’ve tried out multiple other card games, competitive skateboarding…not quite my thing, as well as a fiddling competition from some fellow who seemed rather freaked about my red mask and saw me as some evil deity.
Saxton: Sucka, it’s not about how much you win, it’s how strong you are. Now I am 70000 wins and zero losses in this, but if I lost tomorrow, I would just shake it off because to me, I do this to relieve stress. Some take baths, some walk, I shoot suckas…both the big and the little suckas.
The Gent: If you lost tomorrow? The game is still running, Saxton. Who’s to say you won’t lose this game? It’s just you and me, my fine sir.
Hearing the comeback by The Gent, Saxton tightens his eyebrows as he steps closer to The Gent.
Saxton: I like your attitude, kid, but I’m gonna have to ask you to back that up. Y’here me?
The Gent: Quite clearly. In fact, I’m going to have to ask you a question, Sir Saxton…
Saxton: Please tell me it ain’t about whether or not I’m this one luchador people keep talkin’ about, that America guy.
The Gent: No, it’s not that. This one is specifically about how you view me and The Beard. How do you see us? Do you see us as whey you look at us? Do you see us as young rookies who are way over our head? Maybe you see us as legitimate competition by now?
Saxton: Well, I figure you may not be the former tag team champions, but you earned a shot and that ain’t somethin’ to be taken lightly when you’re face-to-face with us.
The Gent: Exactly. I shall be honest, as far as Saxton goes, it’s hard for me to say much or judge you or your partner. To me, he’s no evildoer such as a man like Grand Mystique or Connor Reece. No, I say to such claims. To me, both of you represent the part of WZCW that I feel may not be the nicest people ever; however, no man is Mother Teresa. It’s those who realize their faults and wish to move past them upon realization that I feel are the greatest in WZCW. Compare that to those who cause nothing but harm and simply don’t care about the people. That is my biggest peeve bar none.
Taking gentle step backwards, he makes sure to keep his distance from Saxton to avoid any additional attacks.
The Gent: As for you two as competitors…To me, every single match is a different experience and the fact of the matter is while we may have faced the same opponents, The Bearded Gentlemen and the team of Saboteur and Action Saxon are quite different from most competitors. Are we not?
Saxton: ...I guess so, yeah.
The Gent: I'm not quite sure what to expect as we start our the beginning of our battles, Sir Saxton. All I can say is that whatever will happen, it will be hard fought, respectful and very, very, very strange. Now then, while it may not be a wrestling competition, what do you say we end this back and fourth between us.
Saxton: Sounds good to me, what do you have in mind?
The Gent: There's only one way to be gentlemen with guns, my good friend. Ten paces, turn and shot.
Saxton: Sucka, look where we are. 7 paces in any direction and we run into a damn wall or barricade. This place ain't exactly the best place to do something like that.
Nodding his head, The Gent places his hand on his chin to ponder
The Gent: Very well...seven paces. What do you say?
Saxton: Good enough for me.
Nodding their heads in agreement, the two slowly put their weapons before standing back to back in the middle of the dark room.
The Gent: Alright, go...
As they take the first step forward, The Gent slowly starts the countdown.
The Gent: One.
Taking the second step, Saxton grips the Laser gun tightly as he continues...
Saxton: Two.
Taking one more step, The Gent twirls around his laser tag gun in his hand, confident to make the shot.
The Gent: Three.
As the two make their fourth step, Saxton, feeling his adrenaline pumping continues the count yet again.
Saxton: Four.
As they make the fifth step, The Gent stops the count to tell him something.
The Gent: Sax?
Saxton: Dammit Sucka, the number after four is five.
The Gent: No, Sax as in Sir Saxton. I wanted to say something. You mentioned cheeseburgers earlier. Funny thing about Cheeseburgers, do you know what they call Quarter Pounders in France?
Saxton: Yeah, I know.
The Gent: Ah. Okay, I thought it would make interesting trivia. Now then, where were we? ...Ah yes, five.
As they take one more step, Saxton waits in anticipation for the final number.
Saxton: Six.
Finally, they take the last step before hitting the wall. A silence comes before the two announce the last number at the same time, before turning.
Both: Seven!
As they turn to shoot, they come to an unfortunate realization: that being that the lights had turned on and their laser tag guns rendered useless. As they shoot their laser pistols to no avail, they hear the sound of a woman over the Intercom.
Intercom: Attention mall shoppers: All stores are closing at this time as a result of a rabid badger on the loose. Please be aware that the store will close early today. Thank you.
Saxton: Awww hell naw.
The Gent: Drat. Quite an unfortunate situation. Alas, with badgers on the loose, I am needed elsewhere helping the women to be saved from the wild beast. Take care, we shall meet soon.
As he is about to leave, The Gent throws up his trademark miniature mask in the air, this time with a small piece of paper stapled to it. As Saxton catches the mask as it was falling, he rips off the paper stapled to it to look at it.
Saxton: ...Thirty-Nine cents off of rice krispie treats? What's with the coupon?
The Gent: Ah yes, I'm doing my part to help out LOCAL BUSINESSES by attaching coupons to these.
Saxton: Why don't I get on this? They should pay me for these. Then maybe I could get Saxton's Tower on my own.
The Gent: Pay? Why I do this for completely free. Now then, if you excuse me, there is a few lovely ladies and a wild badger on the loose. Adieu, Monsieur Saxton.
Taking a bow, The Gent runs away to action. Putting the coupon in his pocket and throwing the replica mask on the ground, Saxton
Saxton: ...Rice Krispies are all right. I should get some after going to the Paper Gangster...all I wanted was my damn cheeseburgers, though.
