DickFuckingDevereaux. He had the audacity to show up in our match. After all of the bad blood, he thinks it’s a good idea to get involved in our business? Not only get involved in,but attack us after the fact? Most would just be elated that they won the match, moving onto the finals of the Battalion Tournament, and are looking forward to fighting for the championships, letting Dick’s actions go as him just blowing off steam because of his situation. I don’t know Bruin’s reaction, but that’s not me.
Yes I signed on with Union Battleground to be a part of this tournament with Bruin. So of course I’m looking forward to stepping into the ring against the Outliers and finishing what Bruin started, and accomplishing what we set out to accomplish; Winning the Battalion championships. Don’t get it twisted. We’re ready for these two. We’re not worried about what their reputations or what they’re capable of. Everyone in Union has slept on us, and everyone has been surprised. Nevermind the fact that we’ve TOLD everyone what was going to happen. Everyone’s still surprised..
But while I have my eyes focused on the Battalion championships, I’m not ignorant to the fact that Devereaux is still breathing. There’s always been ulterior motives. There’s always been another plan. And that plan is to target Dick Devereaux. That plan is to take out Dick Devereaux. He’ll regret the day he arrived in San Diego and hatched the plan with Cortez to turn on me.
Sooner or later… They all will get what’s coming to them.
Noah Reigner’s personal FaceBook account. Posted after Lights Out! #16
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D.C. PRO WRESTLING ACADEMY - WASHINGTON, D.C. - CONTINUOUS
Noah Reigner stood outside a local gymnasium just on the outskirts of Washington D.C. Up and coming local wrestlers train and work here, and today, Noah was here to get some last minute training in. Right now, though, he was leaning against the side of the building with a cigarette butt between his lips. The sounds of feet walking along the pavement are heard, and then suddenly stop. Noah’s eyes lift, landing on Mikey Svarro and Bruin ‘Rumble’ Reyes.
“Taking in some training, huh kid?” Mikey asked, sarcastically as he eyed Noah taking a drag from the cigarette. “Interesting technique. I usually do most of my training underneath some random skank for the night.” He had a coy smirk on his face. Rumble placed the bags he was carrying, at his feet before stepping forward and fist-bumping his friend and partner.
“That worked well for you over at WWH.” Noah replied, referencing Mikey’s recent championship win. To which Mikey’s smirk grew. “But yeah, making sure I’m in top form for Coup de Grace..”. Noah took another drag from the cigarette, burning the last of the paper to the filter, before tossing it down and stomping it out. “Oh yeah, big match you guys have there. Real tough challenge.” You could almost feel Mikey’s sarcasm slapping you in the face.
“I don’t want there to be any doubt. Especially after…” he seethed when thinking of how the match against the Salvation ended. But, on the other hand, they have made it to the finals. Mikey shrugged his shoulders. “Fuck it. A win is a win. You’re both in the finals of this tournament, and what are the Salvation doing? Who knows? Devereaux was just trying to make himself seem relevant again, if he ever was.”
Noah pushed himself off of the wall. “Easy to say when he didn’t stick his nose into your business and then attack you after..” - “Yeah, that would never happen to me. I have a bodyguard for a reason.” Mikey chuckled, giving Rumble a gentle pat on the shoulder. “If I were you guys, I would forget about that douchebag because you guys have titles to win. No one in the Svarro camp buckles. This is your time, no matter what the Outliers or Union think of you.”
Mikey turned, walking away. Noah’s eyes followed him, and then moved up to Rumble. The Outliers. They probably didn’t think much of Noah and Rumble. But what did Noah think about them? ...
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“What do I think of the Outliers?
Let me be real with you for a second, this tournament was never about the Society, the Beautiful Storm, Layton and Fenric or anyone else for that matter. The second this tournament was announced - it was always about The Outliers and The Firing Squad. They were always meant to go to the finals, and Rumble and I told everyone that we would do the same. The difference is? Everyone believed the Outliers. No one believed us. People slept on us, doubted us and said we were full of ourselves from day one. But look what has happened to those people..
As a team, Rumble and I are untouchable. The Salvation, who were other early favorites - or so I hear - were horribly unprepared to face us, and whether or not Dick interfered, Rumble and I would have cruised to the finals of the tournament anyway. Because this is where we belong -- if you haven’t been paying attention to what we … or even, Mikey Svarro has said. But then we have a team like the Outliners. Different from the Salvation, better than the Beautiful Storm. Two big guys who are intent to destroy everyone in their path in order to become the Battalion Champions. ..
I’m not intimidated by the reputation that they have. I’m not intimidated by threatening words and ‘tough son of a bitch’ act put on in front of the camera. I’ve seen all of that before. I know I’m the smallest guy in this fight, but I also know that I am able to hold my own. Myself and Rumble have proven to be a dominant force, and it’s not just because of Rumble’s size and power. My technique is unmatchable and I can throw strikes with the best in the business. Consider me the weak link of the Firing Squad, and I’ll consider you the dumbest son of a bitch on the planet.
So as badly as they want to dominate every team that steps in front of them, this one is going to be different. They may have worked their way to this match, but we did as well. Lemme’ tell ya’ a little about us, boys. Rumble’s had a storied career, wrestling in the Phillipines and in Mexico - winning heavyweight championships, breaking men in half and leaving them dead. Me? I’ve wrestled up from the slums of San Diego, fighting men twice my size and breaking them down with ease. I competed in the UK becoming one of the hottest talents. Rumble and I joined forced in San Diego under the guidance and leadership of..
Ugh.. .. Dick Devereaux and Julian Cortez ..
The first second Rumble showed up in San Diego, he and I worked together as a well-oiled machine. We pushed the Los Renegados agenda until I wasn’t needed anymore. But clearly the connection between Rumble and I transcends the time we were brothers in arms under those two. We carried on, we pushed forward and here we stand. In front of the Outliers and one win away from becoming the first Union Underground Battalion Champions. Do you think we’re going to stop now, just because of who we’re facing? Do you think we’re going to turn to one another, shrug and go home - forgoing all of the hard work that we’ve done to get here, just because the Outliers think they’re tough enough to rough us up and walk out as the champions?
Nah.
We’re going to continue to do what we do. We’re going to wake some motherfuckers up. We’re going to march down to that ring and bring the fight to HeWhoCorrupts and Sawtooth. No matter what they think of us, no matter what they say about us. None of that has ever affected either Rumble or myself. We have one thing on our mind, and one thing only. To walk away with the Battalion championships.
So.. what do I think of the Outliers?
They’ve always been the team to beat in this tournament. And you know what? That’s exactly what Rumble and I are going to do at Coup de Grace.
Post by The Outliers on Sept 21, 2017 22:47:56 GMT -5
COUP DE GRACE | BATTALION FINAL
GRIN: COO DA GRAW is upon us, you fuckin' maniacs! So, we thought we'd do some lead up - vblog stylee. Rap about the opposition, as well as show ya how we're livin' just days prior to what is to be the most colossal event of the season.. Why not start off with somethin' chill? Let's keep things light and reminisce for a spell; turn the clock back about nine months. 2016 was drawing to a close and with that - one company's expiration. That closure gave way to a little show, a show we hosted alongside our old pal from over at UGWC, Rogan Mac. #newyearzero turned out to be a glorious bastard and went off without a hitch, we even saw The Bossman Graves get savage in there, picking up a win after a fifteen year absence.. Anyways, what I'm trying to shine light on here is less about the event, and more about what was transpiring off-camera and backstage during those days....
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Now, Graves gives his fair share O' credit to the final days over at our old stomping grounds as the catalyst that set the Battleground ball in motion, it wasn't until our tribute show that he was able to rub elbows with some of the alum; some of the industries finest. Introductions were made, conversations were had, and deals were signed. Headliners and Champions like Mil Vidas Jr.; Dick Devereaux; Anton Chase; MDK, and eventually Kimi and yours truly. With the majority still holdin' it down today.
[From head to toe, both men are completely decked out in war gear. Sawtooth removes his obnoxious Oakley throwback shades and smiles for the camera while Corrupts adjusts his tactical harness and pulls a Co2 tank from one of the many pouches,quickly loading it into his paintball gun. Real steel look and feel type shit.]
GRIN: We bring this up for a couple different reasons. Corrupts and I, as I'm sure you'll all agree, find it pretty unbelievable what a cooperative, dedicated crew can do in less than a years time. UB has grown exponentially and it does our hearts good to see the success Axel has had with his promotion. Second is to demonstrate just how long we've been waiting for this, in UB specifically. We knew it was only a matter of time before the division would be introduced, and while we may not have been first on the roster, we've been all-in since jump. The waiting game is over; the hard work CONTINUES, and we've never been more prepared to lead the charge on this shit.
[As Sawtooth becomes more animated, all the dangling paintball grenades and ammo pods on his vest begin to jostle and clank against one another.]
HEWHOCORRUPTS: And this PPV provides us the perfect platform to do so. This will put The Outliers on more screens, and give us more exposure than ever before..
[The friends are instantly triggered and the Ghostbusters reference flies.]
TOGETHER: AND YOU DON'T WANT US.. EXPOSING OURSELVES!
HEHWOCORRUPTS: This will no doubt be the highest attended UB show to date, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it surpasses any previous records set by the D.C. Verizon Center. Unprecedented stuff we're talkin' here. Gonna want those gross, attendance, and gate numbers, BOI!!
GRIN: I feel like we've wasted enough time on these fuckin' pleasantries though, huh? These ravenous pukes are only concerned with one thing. I think we need to get down to it; ease off the history lesson and delve into the meat of the matter - So-Cal imports - The Firing Squad. They made it this far.. beat their teams, and earned their spot; no qualms there. They deserve our attention, ya know what I'm sayin'? We've had a vigilant eye on'em. In all honesty, after the news dropped that we'd be squaring off against Layton and Fenric in the second round, I placed'em in the final; here they are. And considering our current set of circumstances? And the mushroom cloud on the horizon? That's about all the respect I'm currently willing to extend.
CORRUPTS: We've buckled two highly skilled CHAMPIONSHIP teams under the Battleground banner.. So at some point, you gotta ask yourself, "what leverage do I have?"
[The duo simultaneously shrug and throw their hands up; ]
TOGETHER: NOT MUCH!
GRIN: Regardless of what you've spewed to the other teams during this tournament, you ARE inexperienced. Don't correct me if I'm wrong, but aside from a single trios match together in SCUV, isn't UB your first go as a unit? A couple of matches? That's what passes for "well oiled" these days? Shake my fuckin' head.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: When I think well-oiled I think Sawtooth.. wait, that came out wrong. What I mean to say is coming back from the MMA world, I wouldn't be surprised if Ernie got some, 'He's gonna kill you!' chants. See, some people in the MMA community take a pretty rigid, hardline view of success. Like once you've achieved a a certain level of greatness in a difficult field like MMA, the idea of stepping back to something deemed "less challenging" like wrestling could be misconstrued as a retreat. Not Grin. He knows better. He sees the challenge in everything, rolls up his sleeves and charges in, eager to see just how much of a dent he can put in that myth. And judging by the success he's had in both disciplines..I'd say he's shattered most of them and gained a heap of respect in the process of becoming a COMPLETE fighter. Besides, success--for us--is just fucking up on your own terms, so we're all set there. Anyways, as far as I'm concerned, he'll be walking into this match with a three foot cock covered in Elvis dust. It's gonna be an empty netter.. a layup.
GRIN: We gotcha on multiple angles SOOO.. you're fucked.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: All our opponents--many of them smarter, more savage and skilled than you--have seen the methods by which we decimate, but what none can see is the strategy out of which our victories evolve. Simply put, that's because we do not repeat the tactics that gain us one victory, but let our methods be defined by the infinite variety of circumstances. Just as water shapes its course according to the nature of the ground over which it flows: the soldier works out his victory in relation to the foe whom he is facing. We retain no constant shape, same as in warfare where there are no constant conditions. Creativity and killer instinct is a lethal concoction and a crucial facet of our own personal Art of War--what we call Strange Style. Our attack will be No Holds Bizarred. Like a shining diamond.. like a knife.. like a mountain.. like a tiger.. like hemlock.. our finest art.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: You've come this far and there's definitely a reason for that. But the inferno of war isn't over yet.. there's one more circle of hell left.. and you're far from the Promised Land.. this is No Man's Land. Where The Outliers not only survive.. but thrive.. we're at our best in the fox hole, together in the trenches with our backs up against the wall and a chip on our shoulder.
GRIN: At home in the unknown, in The Outer Limits.. wonders unseen and terrors unspeakable..
HEWHOCORRUPTS: But this ain't no party..
GRIN: This ain't no disco..
HEWHOCORRUPTS: This ain't no foolin' around. This is The Battleground. 'Round here iron sharpens iron. And for those of us clawing our way up the food chain, there can be no mercy.. no quarter. In GOL, we went out with a real bang using the sledgehammer approach, but for this particular match we'll be employing the scalpel. And the sharper the scalpel, the more precise the incision. Consider the ring our operating table.. and we're the surgeons.
GRIN: And we're gonna deconstruct you faster than Bob the Builder on coke in rewind. Now I'm sure you each have a lot of heart and strong minds, but let's hope you don't have weak stomachs.. 'cause OH YES! There will be blood.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: [Smiling like a butcher's dog...] So if you thought you were just gonna skip into the record books holding hands.. think again. Beauty can be skin deep; what glitters is not always gold. Complete calamity, even death can lurk behind some of life's most dazzling enticements. A feathered fishing lure--delicate, glimmering like a jewel--is no more than glamorous bait for a vicious trap. We are that trap. We are the tenth circle of hell. The only way OUT--is through US. And that's gonna be like sucking splinters through a straw.
GRIN: Getting past us is gonna be like trying to stop a train on your knees on sandpaper street..
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Like trying to catch a shark with dental floss..
GRIN: Like flying a kite in a hurricane..
HEWHOCORRUPTS: We're the fuckin' Outliers. You won't forget us.. 'cause we'll be the ones writing our names in said history book with gasoline and setting that shit on fire, thank you very much.
GRIN: Yup. We'll just have to tell the nurses you're both very sick cookies that ought to be kept under observation for another seven years or so. And every Saturday night, Crups and I are gonna call you up from whatever dive we happen to be in at the time, and if you're really good boys..
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Real good..
GRIN: ..we'll let you FaceTime with the titles. Welcome to your own personal slice of hell courtesy of yours truly. Don't say we never gave you anything.
[Grin pulls out the shotgun strapped to his combat backpack.]
GRIN: "The Splatmaster"...for close encounters.
[Reminiscent of a Mossberg 500, this particular model is Outliers certified and HIGHLY customized in a very literal sense...]
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Right now though, we're gonna turn this bad beauty into what we call, Kurt Cobong.
GRIN: And don't give me that 'Too soon' BS 'cause it's Mos Definitely not. Let's make that Billy Crystal clear.
[It's not long before they start shotgunning with the shotgun, reenacting the scene from Platoon. Grin takes a pull off his glass pocket bubbler and blows a massive plume of thick, milky white smoke into the breech of the shotgun. Then at the other end, Hewhocorrupts inhales the smoke as it emerges from the barrel.]
HEWHOCORRUPTS: This should lift our morale and elevate our army of two to the next level. Then we'll be ready to infiltrate, execute and escape with spectral precision.
GRIN: And take tiger mountain (by strategy).
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Buckle up, Firing Squad. 'Cause on the 24th, we'll be painting the town red--with your blood of course.
GRIN: Of course! I mean what else. It just sounds so metal.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Right, my thoughts exactly.
***
[The teams gather on a vast expanse of uphill terrain on a course called The Mountain: a woodsball field with a lookout structure near the top and bunkers made of logs acting as natural cover points. The forest is dense; trees are scattered all over the hill. The autumn colors blaze and fade like paint on a color wheel: orange leeched to a pale yellow; a vivid primary reduced to a washed out pastel...]
THEOUTLIERS: [Waving and nodding to their paintball opponents..] Hey guys, what's up. Good luck out there.
Random stranger from opposing team: Suck my dick, edge lord. You noobs better be ready for a beatdown.
THE OUTLIERS: WHOA!
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Hey! Being stupid doesn't mean you have to stop being polite, asshole. Right now you're talkin' like you've never been knocked the fuck out. I can remedy that.
ASSHOLE: This is our course. You and that health goth next to you, don't deserve to ball on the same field as us. I'll probably have to get new shoes from running so many circles around you retards.
GRIN: Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're number one, but you're goin' down like a fat number two. My friend and I are a couple eagle scouts with merit badges in wholesale slaughter. We'll be the ones separating the meat from the bone and the wheat from the chaff out here.
ASSHOLE: Nah, you'll be the ones sucking my bone and slurpin' the jizz from my staff!
[King Jerk-off from the planet dickhead has a good chuckle with his friends...]
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Aw fuck yeah, break it out dude, I could use some protein. Just don't say you're bringin' over a rack of ribs and show up with a tiny penis.
GRIN: [Inching closer...] Yeah, let's see it. Soothe my throat with your pants lozenge.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: [Gently caressing his ear lobe...] Ding dong my face door.
ASSHOLE: Jesus! Back up you fuckin' weirdos!
GRIN: You seem agitated.. is there something you wanna get on my chest?
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Before we smoke your tiny pole, take a minute to relax. And while I'm waiting why don't you skee-daddle on over to the snack shack and get daddy some Air-Heads. [Winks..]
GRIN: I wouldn't mind a little Tootsie Roll, you know I gotta sweet tooth..[Winks..]
[The referee finally steps in...]
REF: Please stop this perverted arms race before someone gets hurt.
ASSHOLE: Yeah.. this is getting weird, let's just play ball..[pauses] let's just play some paintball.
GRIN: Life's a stage, smoke cock until you die.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Terrible meeting you, stay stupid, human penis.
GRIN: [arms folded, bumping HWC with his hip...] You're gonna make a great father some day.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: You and I both know I'm never gonna make it that far.
GRIN: Right, right. Plus, I just don't know how much the world can take at this point..
[Both teams part ways and prepare for battle...]
REF: [Using a megaphone to project his voice across the battleground...] The game is Last Man Standing. It'll be four on four with a ten minute time limit. One shot. One Kill. Barrel bags and safety's off. Remember, please DO NOT shoot the referee. Game starts in Five! Four! Three! Two! One! GO, GO, GO, GO!
GRIN: Kiss and kill.. you take yours to heaven, I'll take mine to hell!
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Search & destroy, paint & enjoy!
[The Outliers shoulder their weapons, and begin to make their way onto the field, staying low, careful not to alert the enemy.]
ENEMY: Talk to me, I lost sight of the targets. Where are they?! Somebody got eyes on 'em?! Somebody shout out a location!
ENEMY: [pointing down field...] Watch the side! the right side!
[The click-clack of compressed air and the dull pop of exploding paintballs erupts across the course. The Outliers are immediately pinned down and their fellow teammates yelp as they're pelted by heavy fire.]
ENEMY: He's down, he's down!
GRIN: [rolling into cover next to Corrupts...] Looks like we're on our own..
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Ain't that a bitch.
GRIN: Well, looks like we got a serious situation here! We're outmanned and outgunned! What's new, right? I need to put you in a copter, take you like two clicks out in the jungle and drop you off with your high-powered rifle and I need you to blow some heads off!
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Put me on the frontlines, but it's gonna cost you..
GRIN: What could be worth more than my undying allegiance and gratitude?!
HEWHOCORRUPTS: A Fistful of Dollars, fool!
GRIN: God, you're such a mercenary!
[Just then, Corrupts pulls the pin on a smoke grenade and tosses it up range unleashing a wall of eerie, sickly green smoke that fills the air. The Mountain looks more like Planet Terror now, VX poison gas and all..]
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Okay, time for Master Plan B. Neutralize the right flank by gradually picking off each enemy, then move in from the rear.
GRIN: I'll lay down some suppressive fire.
[As Corrupts nearly bolts off into the breach, Grin grabs his arm...]
GRIN: Hey...[making direct eye contact...] let's fuck 'em up!
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Copy that!
[HWC disappears through the smoke...]
[Hewhocorrupts makes it safely to cover and reloads the clip in the Tippmann TCR (Tactical Compact Rifle) and slaps it in hard. The enemy knows Corrupts has a good line of sight on him as he pops up from behind cover, so he decides to swap cover to take him out. Corrupts books it between a few trees and baseball slides into another bunker.]
[With Grin taking out the threat to the left side, Corrupts is able to flank the other enemy challenging his partner's advance. A few shots later and he's down for the count.]
HEWHOCORRUPTS: He's twitchin' harder than an epileptic at a laser light show! Move up! Move up!
[Grin pushes forward stealthily, careful not to draw attention, using the hill to obscure his movement. On the opposite side of the course something's not quite right. Suddenly, Corrupts hears a hissing noise coming from his gun and the rounds stop feeding correctly. At this point the hissing is getting louder and an excess amount if gas is being fired with each pull of the trigger, but he still needs to pose a threat while Sawtooth works his way up.]
HEWHOCORRUPTS: What the FUCK!
[HWC spends a brief moment troubleshooting behind cover before throwing the gun down in frustration.]
HEWHOCORRUPTS: SHIT! What do I do now?! Think! Think! C'mon, quick on your feet! That's it! Feet! I'm a full grown Baby Genius!
[First he grabs a pod of ammo from his vest, empties it out on the ground and stomps those balls with his shoes. Wasting no time, HWC sprints toward an enemy who apparently lost him in the chaos. Before he even realizes it, Hewhocorrupts is airborne with a massive shotgun dropkick that lands square in the back, sending him flying across the field. Two footprints of wet, red paint soak into the enemy's coveralls along with a deep sense of shame. The ref is none the wiser.. no harm, no foul.. game on!]
[Meanwhile, Grin is trying to take out the last opponent on the field to win the game. Never one to be outdone, he swiftly drops his pack and pulls out a blow-up doll.]
[Sawtooth makes a mad dash to the sidelines untouched and somehow convinces the ref to use his air tank--normally used to replenish a player's empty one--to fill up Sigourney Beaver. With two shakes of a lamb's tail he's back in the battle and ready to finish the fight. Out of the corner of his eye, Grin sees the enemy moving in fast.]
[Sensing the end, the last man standing on the opposing team decides to go aggro and move in for a quick kill. As he sneaks up behind his target he notices something very odd.. this wasn't his target.. it was a decoy.. the one they call Sigourney Beaver!]
ENEMY: [Under his breath...] Dammit! Where the hell did he go?!
GRIN: Over here, over here! Turn around, turn around!
[As he turns, Grin shoots him right in the goggles.]
GRIN: Consider yourself lucky.. you just got fucked by the best!
[The referee's foghorn signals the end of the match. The Outliers miraculously make it out alive.. yet again. The duo finally stop to survey the damage, their cheeks rosy-red from the kiss of the crisp autumn breeze...]
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Hope everyone signed their waivers 'cause I certainly can't be held responsible for my actions. Especially in times of war.
GRIN: Yeah, what the hell was that back there?! How many war crimes did we just commit?
HEWHOCORRUPTS: I dunno man, started off super positive.. then it just got.. crazy. Yeah, I did not like that at all..
GRIN: No, Crups, none of us did..
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Yeah, it was totally messed up.. it's disgusting how people would just, y'know, take something pure and good and take advantage of it like that. There was no time to do anything.. except just react and hope that no one got hurt.
GRIN: But people did get hurt.. we lost a lot of good men today..
HEWHOCORRUPTS: I'd rather not talk about it..
GRIN: But we did it all in the name of friendship and if that's a crime then I would strongly recommend the death penalty. No matter what happens it was an honor to fight alongside you. Feels good.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Damn good.
GRIN: Tag team back again!
GRIN: [Motioning towards the devastated battlefield] And as you can see... War is hell. But whoever said that never fought The Outliers. Firing Squad.. you're in it up to your necks now.. which is gonna make it so much easier to kick you in the face.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: Top of The Mountain right now. It sure as shit wasn't easy.. but we made it. At this point, we're not only on top of the mountain, we are the mountain.. we're a hundred miles high.. we are invincible.. we are forever.
TOGETHER: [Turning toward each other..] Nothing can touch us, we're never gonna die!
GRIN: We are an ocean.. weapons, swords and knives all flow through us like nothing.. we encompass the entire world in our depths.
HEWHOCORRUPTS: We are the flash of lightning in the darkness of night. We are fire.. all that our enemies place in our way--betrayal, lies, poison, pain--we devour and become stronger.
