Can you mourn a life that never was?
Can you weep for an impossible dream?
Can you stand in eulogy for a longing forever unfulfilled?

The rising sun's light was caught by the hummingbird shaped prism hanging in the window, splintering the light into it's component hues and splashing them on the end of the bed. Lux considered this as she sat up in bed, allowing herself to be captured by its small beauty. So entranced was she, that she did not even notice the stirring of her partner next to her. His voice gave her a brief start.

Penny for your thoughts, Luxka Popovic-Smith?

Lux turned to see Corey sit up in bed, the blankets sliding off his nude torso and collecting atop the boxer briefs he wore. Lux wore a midriff baring t-shirt and her panties, and despite it being Spring the slight clothing was letting in a bit of a chill. Only a penny?

Corey smirked, and for a moment she allowed herself to be taken down the memory hole to the first time she saw that boyish smile. Okay, one whole American dollar.

Without wasting a moment, she brought a hand up and playfully flicked his nose. Corey instinctively recoiled, smiling wider. Flincher. You know what flinchers get. Lux crawled atop him, allowing her body to meld with his, wrapping her ankles around his calves and sliding down into him. They get eaten up. She nuzzled the nape of his neck, and started kissing it.

Do they now...? Corey purred, running a hand up underneath her shirt as her hand found it's way past the waistband of his underwear. Corey hungrily kissed her then, holding the back of her head and pushing his tongue past her lips. Lux reached low to push his underwear down more frantically now.

Mommy, I frowed up.

Lux's heart leaps up into the vicinity of her throat and she frantically pulls the blankets all the way up over their bodies before turning to look at the four year old boy who just walked into their room and evidently tracked chunks of puke down the hall with him.

Oh Duncan.... Lux sighed, seeing the conglomeration of last night's spaghetti dinner all down the front of his Ninja Turtle Jammies. Bathroom, dear.

--------------------------------------------Later-------------------------------------

Corey unleashed the furor of their newly bought PowerJet nozzle accessory on the barf stained children's bedding hanging from the clothesline. Lux steps into the back yard, leaving their modest two story home in the suburbs of Jacksonville in her wake. Corey smiles at her when he catches sight of her, and gives the bedding one last spray for good measure. He good?

He's sleeping. I however, am now most certainly infected with the plague. She holds out her arms. Hugs?

Ew, no. He trains the hose on her threateningly.

Too late. You're probably already infected anyway.

Shit.

Yep.

Lux pulls up a seat at their backyard patio set and Corey soon follows her, propping up his feet on an empty chair and wringing the water out of the bottom of his shirt. Lux spots the face of their neighbor Janice pop up over their fence, gardening sheers in hand and sun visor cutting a shadowy swath over her forehead. Lux waves to her, and Janice waves back but returns to her task.

She so stank. Corey intones playfully.

She's alright.

Oh come on, you see how she looks at us. That disapproving “tut-tut” of a side eye.

...what?Lux considers Corey with a bemused expression.

We don't fit Lux. We're the odd balls. You and your cradle robbing ways.

Lux titters to cover up the pang of anxiety his statement brought out in her. He had a point. With Corey at a whopping 25 and she hovering somewhere in the late 30's, there's was a decidedly May-December coupling that no doubt kept the bored haus-frau's tongue's wagging.

They're just jealous though. You swapping up a young stud like me. He polishes his fingernails on his shirt, and then considers them with faux-obnoxiousness. It was inevitable really.

Lux turns to him, seeming incredulous. Bitch, I had to open the tomato sauce for you yesterday.

I don't recall.

Convenient. Baby hands.

I do not! Corey surreptitiously shoots a look down at his hands before changing the subject. Did you call the doc for Spewmaster Supreme?

Yeah, he'll see him tomorrow at noon. The nurse said there's a new flu bug going around, could be that.

So we ARE doomed.

Pretty much. Sorry babe. Hope I go before you. Lux pauses before proceeding, knowing that what she's about to say would be a vast departure from their playful banter. The age thing....

Corey winces. It wasn't his first rodeo at this particular arena.

….you don't ever, you know, regret it?

Regret what?

Lux looks away, one hand tapping anxiously on the arm rest of the chair. Being tied down. She finishes the statement, and immediately regrets it. You know what, forget it.

Corey sighs and shakes his head. Lux, we've talked about this before.

It weighs on me, though.

I was joking. He intones, trying to sound conciliatory. Nothing more.

It's just... Lux stops short again, mind working to find the right words. ….you could have had more time before you settled down. You're so young.

Corey suddenly seemed drawn to the ground. In fact, it took him a moment of searching through the blades of grass for an answer before he replied. You're right. I could have had more time. But it would have been time wasted. Lux.... Corey reaches over and gingerly takes one of her hands into his, enveloping it. Me “having more time” would have just been a distraction from where I was supposed to be my entire life. Right here. So if you're asking me if I regret NOT wasting my time, well, the answer is an emphatic “no”. He leans over and kisses the top of her hand. Besides, being neurotic doesn't really befit a bad ass assassin from the future so knock it off.

Lux allows herself a laugh at this, and she shoots a quick glance at the back door as she does so to make sure Duncan wasn't there, irritable and spoiling for some sleep. But, when her attention returns to Corey's face, she freezes. His expression is suddenly distant and questioning, mouth hanging half open with some unasked question. Hon, what's wrong?

He squints, looking confused. I can't remember something. A drip of fear infiltrates his expression. Lux, how did you get your body back? How do I not remember this?

Lux's bottom lip quivers, and she goes to stammer out a reply, but no explanation could ever be sufficient. Because there is no explanation. None of this is real.

Corey is suddenly sitting there, frozen unnaturally. And then, a few pixels just under Corey's left eye blink out of existence, setting off a cataclysm of more pixels dying out, erasing his face. The absence spreads to the rest of his body, and then the ground, and finally the house is also engulfed.

Before long, everything is gone. And Lux is standing. Alone in an empty chamber.



Her attention is drawn to the door as it cracks open, and chief Citadel engineer Wylie Sinclair peeks his head in with his eyes closed. Is everybody decent?

Yes. Lux whispers the words, but it carries far in the emptiness.

Wylie steps in all the way now and opens his eyes. Just wanted to make sure. Some of your physiological responses earlier suggested some.... “activity”.

Lux cants her head at him, looking annoyed. Were you spying on me?

Stopping short, Wylie suddenly looks embarrassed. Oh, no no no! I mean, not intentionally. I just happened to be walking by and I didn't know the chamber was going to be in use, so I wondered what was going on. Then, rather sheepishly, he adds. For the record, you wouldn't be the first one to use it for that.

I didn't. Spoken with an icy defensiveness.

Ok...ok, that's fine. Wylie stops again, almost looking like he's daring himself to continue. So....was Corey pretty accurate to the real thing or....?

Lux can't withhold her anger now. Just how much did you fucking see?!

I'm sorry! I shouldn't have.... He holds out his hands, trying to defuse the situation. I just shouldn't have.

Releasing a sigh, Lux calms herself. Just forget it.

Incidentally though, I'm sorry the program “blue screened” you. Some of the newer applications crap the bed when they're face to face with a logical inconsistency. I'm still working on it.

She turns away from him, hiding her face from view. To answer your question...Corey was spot on. Too much so. An involuntary tear rolls down her cheek, and she tries to catch it as casually as possible. But not casually enough to escape the technician's notice.

Wylie takes a step closer. Are you okay?

I'm fine. I'm just...tired. And my body hurts.

Do you need anything? Want another pain killer? It's no trouble....

No.

Wylie nods. Ok. Then, looking up at her again. It's none of my business, but....

You're right, it's none of your business. Lux bites back, still not turning to face him. But you're going to say it anyway so go ahead.

Why are you torturing yourself?

The question hangs in the air, unanswered, for a good minute. It echoes off the pristine unmarked walls of the chamber. Wylie expects more anger, but what he finally gets is surprisingly restrained.

I don't know. The words are whispered, a secret admission of weakness.

Look, Lux, I may not be human exactly, but that doesn't mean I don't understand pain. You're in pain. He takes a breath. Does Corey know how you feel?

Yes.

And what did he say?

Lux's eyes tear up again. He doesn't feel the same way. Then, with a bitter laugh, And how could he? I'm a foreign invader in his body, wracking up scars on his flesh as I fight some psychotic war that I drafted him into unwillingly. She turns now, arms swinging wide in a display of emphatic anger. Plus, I'm some creepy thirty year old perving on a 17 year old. Another bitter laugh punctuates the air. I'm basically a fucking pedophile. I had to age him up in the hologram so I wouldn't feel like such a creep. Jesus.....

Actually, you're not a pedophile. Its just barely ephebophilia....

Thanks, the “made for Reddit” justification makes me feel so much better.

Ok, forget that. Wylie waves his hands dismissively. Sometimes the heart just wants what it wants, Lux. I don't think there's anything wrong with you loving Corey.

There is EVERYTHING wrong with me loving Corey! Lux's near-shout careens off the walls. How can I love someone when I don't even have my own body?! I'm trapped in his! She shakes her head forlornly.

Now, it's Wylie's turn to look lost in thought. Then, perking up, he considers Lux inquisitively. Lux, when were you born?

2012, why?

So, a younger you is alive out there, correct?

If they weren't, I wouldn't be here.

Wylie's face changes perceptively. He almost looks...excited? He chuckles a little. Yeah...of course!

You wanna fill me in?

Lux! He laughs outright now. Lux, if there is a younger you out there, couldn't we just....?

Transfer myself into her body? She finishes the thought, shaking her head emphatically “no”. Don't think I didn't consider it. But it's likely to make more problems than it solves. If I interfere in a younger “me's” life that drastically it's sure to upset the entire trajectory of my existence. It could mean I never end up HERE. My entire mission would be in jeopardy. No, I can't take that chance.

But what if we clone you from the younger “you's” genetic material?

Lux goes quiet, and then she stares at Wylie incredulously. Is that possible?

It could be. We have technology here in the Citadel that isn't exactly in the mainstream yet on Earth. Lux, it could solve your entire dilemma. Corey would have his life back. I mean, it would take some time to age the clone appropriately. But it would still be a lot faster than the biological aging process.

How long?!

About six months, if I get a good genetic sample to work from.

And you would need to prepare it to accept my consciousness, but I could help you with that. Wylie... She marvels for a moment. …..this could be it.

I know! He claps his hands and smiles. How exciting!

For the first time since she entered the room, Lux finds herself smiling. Yes...yes it is. Then, catching his gaze again. Thank you.

Don't thank me, I haven't done anything yet. We still have to figure out a way to get the sample, but I'm sure we'll think of something.

Yeah. She nods, feeling positive.

I'm gonna go run some numbers, and maybe I can give you a better estimate of how long this could take. I should have something for you tomorrow morning.

Sure, yes. Please!

Wylie nods again. See you tomorrow then!

Lux watches him go. He shuts the door behind him, and Lux goes to the wall, sliding down it and giving in to her exhaustion. But, through it all, she can't stop smiling. Hope was within reach. Happiness was within reach. She could feel it blossom in her chest, in Corey's chest, like a flower opening in the Spring and filling the world with it's vibrancy.


Lux is still in the chamber, but this time her countenance has changed. Exhaustion, timidity, and despair have been purged, replaced with an indefatigable energy that seems to scream....



She lets you drink it in for a moment, savor it. Roll it around on the tongue, really get the motherfucking BOUQUET of it. And then, with a smile....



….it's go time.

Let's start from the rear and work our way back up, eh. Hello, Luca. Why, it wasn't so long ago that you, Shane himself and Morbid Angel came wafting back onto the scene, dragging hellfire and brimstone on in with you and completely reshaping the environs here for-oh, wait....? Lux reacts to something we can't see. I'm sorry, this was a bit before my time so maybe I'm confused. But Corey just informed me that you guys returned and then proceeded to do fuck all. Thanks for the clarification, Corey.

But isn't that just the story of your last few years in this company, Luca? Getting some face time, doing nothing of any import with it, and then pissing off to some South African drug den where you can practice saying “well I guess 20 dollars IS 20 dollars” in Spanish? Luca couldn't even whole ass being on commentary, and he probably wants us to believe he'll put his all into this. Well, I hate to break it to you Luca but your “all” is going to have to be a bit more than some incoherent drivel as you drop down a k-hole.

I'm going to do for you what I did for Cadryn Tiberius. Show the XWF that your time here is emphatically over and that your desperate attempts to cling to relevance are about as sad and awkward as an after school special about what to do if you've been “bad touched”. The respect and admiration you stashed away is rapidly drying up, and before long the rest of the XWF is going to start to see what I see, a once solid investment that's gone Enron Part Deux. And it's a shame really, because if you had spent these intervening years honing your craft and staying in the game instead of racking up regrettable face tattoos that ensure your only future employment will be bouncing at strip joints that require vaccine boosters before you even walk through the door, maybe you wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe you'd still have some self respect. And maybe you wouldn't be some shameless parasite leaching off a prior era where your name meant something.

As for Double G and Sam McPherson, you guys are in the same sinking boat as Luca except without the life preserver of any real name recognition. You see gentlemen, a good 80% of life is just showing up. And while Luca may wake up from his bender and toss out some half assed effort by Friday, I'm thinking the two of you are just going to sit on your hands and persist in contributing nothing to your team. One of you's probably a lock for getting replaced by the Boston Bruiser for not fulfilling your contracted obligations. As for the other, well....I wonder if Taco's busy.

I wish to state the obvious here for posterity, however. 3/5's of Deacon's team could not even be bothered to yet talk about this epic match. Over half. Now generally, when over half of something is not working, that something shuts down. When over half of an assembly line's operations fail, the factory can't make goods. When over half of a jet's engines stop working, it's safe to say they're in trouble. When over half of a human brain stops working....well, it doesn't necessarily stop working it just becomes Peter Gilmour. Which, in a lot of ways is just so, so much worse. No different here. Deacon, over half of your team can't even muster up the “give a shit” to stand in front of a camera and TALK. So you'll forgive me if I can barely suppress peals of mocking laughter when you insist that your team has a shot. They don't.

But enough about The B Team's B-Team. Which, by some transitive property probably makes them the....D Team? Let's talk about the ones who actually seem to care. And for our first installment, I'm turning things over to Corey, who has a very special message for Tony Santos.

Lux braces herself as Corey takes control of their body.

Hello everyone, my name is Corey Smith. And I'm an addict.

But before we touch on that, let me clear up one piece of business for my good friend and fellow candy lover Tony Santos. You know that old adage “sometimes if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all?” Well, there's a variant on it that goes a little bit like “If you don't have anything smart to say, don't say anything at all.” Now, look man, it's tough to hit Lux. It is! I mean, sure she's got her weak points like everybody else. Lost March Madness. Lost to my girlfriend in her first match. But, you are at the very least intelligent enough to acknowledge the immense amount of respect Lux has earned in her short time here. An amount of respect that makes her just shy of being a rhetorical untouchability. And honestly, you just should have stopped there, with the props.

But ya didn't.

Now maybe it's just a life time of ignoring people when they tell you “you're cut off”, but you just kept right on trucking, trying to make a case for Lux lacking confidence because she didn't step up as a War Games team leader. As if that's some kind of glaring neon sign of a character flaw.

Huh.

Now who else do we know who didn't step up as a team leader? Computer, Final Jeopardy theme.

The chamber helpfully starts to play the Final Jeopardy theme in the background. Finally, Corey points at the camera.

Oh, it's YOU! Yes, YOU! Tony Santos! Current reigning Hart champion and (holy shit, really?!) one of the TOP 50 Greatest XWF stars of all time. Boy, you seem like kind of a big deal yourself. And yet YOU ceded leadership of your team to the star of “CandyMan Part 4: Crack is Whack.” So what does that say about you exactly? My vote? Absolutely fucking nothing. The same thing it means for Lux. And the same thing it means for XWF co-owner and bonafide legend James Raven, and former multi-time champions like Centurion, Thaddeus Duke, Luca Arzegotti (also your team), Robbie Bourbon, and Scully....none of whom “raised their hands” to be team captains. But ahhhhhh, I'm sure they're all just delicate confidence deprived flowers, right?

How pickled IS your brain, exactly?

Oh, and FYI, usually people who lack confidence don't call out people who already beat them, or people who are a few tiers up from you on that Top 50 list. But more on that in a minute.

So now that we've established that you put about as much time into coming up with an attack on Lux as you do downing a 40, let's get to the real meat and potatoes of why I wanted to talk to you.

Yeah, we're both addicts. And yeah, considering we're in the same boat maybe I went a little hard on you last time. But then again, maybe it played a small role in your recent decision to consider getting clean. But here's the cold hard fact about you trying to get clean Tony. You're gonna fuck it up. Now, hold up, this isn't just some trash talk thing, this isn't a shoot. It's just the God's honest truth because that is what people like us do! That is what addicts do, Tony. We. Fuck. Up. We are addicts for life, even when we're not using. So I wouldn't dare to play the odds on your recent change of heart given that you were drinking your fucking face off not even a week ago like the world was running out of whiskey.

Do you know how many times I said, “yes, this is the part where I get clean”? Jesus, I couldn't even tell you. Because when you're that dependent, that sad, and that pathetic you will find any possible excuse you can to avoid making a change. The mental gymnastics people go through to justify that next drink or that next dose or that next hit are nothing short of astounding. “Oh, I'm gonna go to detox tomorrow! But I just need one last hit to get me up and moving. I can't go if I got the DT's!” Cue yet another week of getting blitzed and waking up in your own filth.

Corey shakes his head ruefully.

I get you because I am you, man! And people like us, you can't really count on us for shit. Yeah, you sobered up just long enough to win that Hart title from a Dolly Waters who, let's face it, ceased to give a flying fuck. But your buddy said it himself, how long do your reigns actually last before you blow it all to hell? It's gonna be the same thing at War Games. Who's gonna show up? Sober Tony, or “can't even put one foot in front of the other” Tony? It's a crap shoot, isn't it? Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining Tony, I KNOW it is. I was THERE.

But here's the thing, even though I certainly wouldn't bank on it, I honestly do hope you get clean someday. I really do. No snark. The odds are not in your favor. But it's possible. And while I may be the last guy you want an intervention from, please consider this: life is so much more beautiful on this side. It's precarious though too. The fight never stops, the hunger never quite abates. But my God...the beauty. Corey gets a far away look in his eye as his gaze drifts off camera. His adam's apple bobs as he takes a deep swallow, and then clears his throat. God speed Tony. I really mean that.

Tag.

Lux's eyes flutter a bit, and she wobbles on her feet, but quickly regains control.

Deacon.

Lux spits his name like an epithet.

You know how many years of my life I've spent waging war on paltry tinpot dictators in waiting like you? You see, in my years I've come to recognize the enemies that are truly the scary ones with staying power from the chaff of lackluster egomaniacs like you. Here's a spoiler alert, Deacon: I'm from the future, and YOU ARE NOT IN IT.

Oh sure, there's plenty of assholes who have managed to kick the entire planet down on a flight of stairs in the time I hail from, but you're not amongst their ranks. “How can that be!?” Deacon roars, rattling the very power of hell behind him and screaming his umbridge to the heavens above. Simple really.

You're common.

You have power, but your vision is limited. You want to wage war, but against whom? People you hate? People who hate YOU? So, in other words, basically everyone. Do you think the world's gonna roll over for you? What's your endgame here? Or have you not even thought that far ahead? Oh, I know! Control. Domination. Strength! You're like the final boss of some poorly conceived action video game. A paper thin veneer of a threat shoved front and center to give its hero something bland and palatable to fight.

Deacon, you're just another asshole with pretensions. And you're already off to a rip roaring start, allowing a pet advisor into your ranks to cut the promo you should have cut. Just a tip, but maybe you should put your foot down and do the talking from now on, because this cut rate Lucifer is NOT doing you any favors. Now, I don't know if Hell just doesn't have digital cable or what, but your boy built his entire criticism of me on the basis that I only challenge scrubs. Welllllllll......

Computer, kindly replay my promo from Savage on May 11, 2019.

The chamber springs to life, forming an exact facsimile of the scene of Lux's in ring segment from the aforementioned episode of Savage. Lux watches herself cutting the promo, shooting a sly glance back at the camera every so often for emphasis.

Quote:Oh, I hear you! I hear you! So let me start with my first dream opponent. I'm talking about James Raven. 

HUGE CROWD POP!

Now, I know, it's not likely. The man is co-owner of the XWF now, and it would look unseemly for him to challenge one of his own employees for a championship. But....Lux shoots the camera a cheeky smile....it WOULD be really, cool, eh?

Okay, okay.....so maybe NOT him. But it would be VERY, VERY COOL. (Hint, Hint) So, my next pick would be....Chronic Chris Page!

A more mixed, but still enthusiastic response. 

Yes, the man who has recently seen fit to spread his buttocks and verbally defecate all over our air time to belittle the company that saw fit to pick his reedy ass up off the street corner and give him some respectable clothes, yeah, I'd REALLY like to have a go at that one. But I'm not so sure he'll be so game to stick around after his team gets fisted hard at War Games, so it seems like another crap shoot to me. Lux shrugs.

Now who else is there...? She muses, as a healthy portion of the crowd start up a new chant. 

SARAH'S OUR GODDESS!! **CLAP, CLAP, CLAP** SARAH'S OUR GODDESS!! **CLAP, CLAP, CLAP**

Lux looks at that side of the crowd with bemusement. Guys, you can put down your Circle Television Network approved scripts, I was getting there! Yes, SARAH! The only person who has scored a win over me that Corey hasn't made out with. That I know of. But here's the deal guys....Sarah Lacklan seems TOTES happy in the kiddie swimming pool she calls a pond over on Anarchy. So will she be willing to wade her way over here and see if she can get that second dubya on yours truly? Who knows.

Which leaves me with my final name. And I admit, it's the longest shot of all. But it's the one I want the most. Because this person is without a shadow of a doubt, the most cunning evil mind in XWF history, and the exact kind of person I love taking the fight to. I'm talking about Doctor Louis D'Ville.

ENORMOUS POP!

Yes, the good doctor hasn't been seen in quite some time. But some part of me can't help but feel he's one of those people who's always lurking just out of eye sight. I think he'll hear me. In fact, I know he will. And maybe he'll be tempted to ignore me. Think I'm not worth it. Maybe even think that to a man of his stature, the TV title is beneath him. But sometimes you need to look deeper than that. Really gaze into the abyss and ask yourself if maybe, just maybe, there aren't some truly epic challenges that you're letting pass you by.

Okay, that's enough.

The simulation collapses all around her, returning us to the bare empty chamber.

Sorry I let that run so long, but I felt like I would be remiss if I didn't give you the full scope of just how wrong also-ran Little Nicky really was. You just saw me challenge 3 and a half high quality opponents. I'll let you all fight over who the half is. But does that look like someone who's running from a legit challenge? Does that look like someone who wants to fight anything less than the best? Deacon, I am BEGGING for a challenge. BEGGING! So I'll go ahead and give you a sec to fire your little minion there. I wonder if you can collect unemployment in hell when you get termed for gross incompetence.

There are far more dangerous and insidious forces than you at work, and they've got one hell of a lead on you to boot. And I'm sure, that in your blithe overconfidence, you won't see that as an issue. But you should. You really, really should. Because your ill conceived, ill timed comic book supervillian plans for world domination are going to get you killed when you run afoul of the real monsters.

And even if you did win, what the hell is your final agenda? Hmmmm? Burn it all down and crown yourself God Emperor of Dust? What's the fucking point, Deacon?! People like you only know how to destroy. And whether it's because you're trying to fill some some hole left inside you from years of trauma, or because you're just another plain simple asshole, the outcome for guys like you is always the same. More pain. For you. And at War Games, that's what I'm going to lay at your doorstep. Whatever bloody coup you plan to wage against civilized society ends there. Great leader dies of a self inflicted gunshot in his bunker. It's the Ides of March and the daggers are out. No amount of ambition can stand in the way of fate and historical precedent for pompous, shortsighted men like you.

And you're probably asking yourself how I can feel so confident in the face of the “threat” you pose? What brings me to that level?

Computer, “World on Fire” please.

Suddenly, the chamber explodes into a hellish scene.



I've already seen what happens when evil wins, Deacon. This? This is the world I came from. This is the future! And as I said, for as much of a hard on this sight may give you....it wasn't BECAUSE of you. You had nothing to do with it, Great Caesar. This is the work of a cosmic horror from beyond time who turned man against each other to spit in the face of God. It's also my greatest failure. I couldn't stop it. No one could. In fact, I died trying to stop it. So I came here, now, when this nightmare is in its infancy to try to end it. I'm making headway, but I'm not done yet.

But you see, I know how bad things can get. So if you think I'm going to stand idly by and watch you with your Romero-lite army pour gasoline on the fire you are SADLY fucking mistaken. And no amount of pithy devils, or zombies, or ghoulish war paint is going to unstiffen my spine in the face of the subpar challenge you pose. Because honestly, I've already seen so much worse. And in comparison to that, you ain't shit. And neither is your team.

House of Deacon folds at War Games. End of story. Now piss off back to hell where you belong.





end.