Deep in the hard streets of the local FunPlex, a young bird stands alone, pinned by his foes. He's quick on the draw, firing off three rounds. Two hit their mark, the third strays. He's staring down the barrel of a JoyTech Mark III laser pistol, his heart pounding beneath his bulky JoyTech Detect-o-Vest. In a desperate act, he flings himself to the rubber-matted ground, blindly shooting. He gasps as the sound of electronic bleeps reach his ears--he's hit. Wounded. He groans as he rolls over onto his side, his body cold, vision dimming. He's not long for this world when the PA crackles to life, the voice of God himself booming through the plywood jungle.

"PLAYER FOUR. NO ROUGHHOUSING DURING GAMES."

(I will never finish this.)