(For the next few weeks or so, updates shall come early as Sunday or even Saturday. I would update on Mondays except that my job takes me where computer access is limited. Till next time, enjoy this entry.

(-Godhand's Number-)

43

The gang couldn't play Stratagories after all, even if they wanted to - which they most certainly did! Dear old Robin had never heard of the game, let alone have a copy of the game itself. So they were reduced to playing chess with the girl's stone chess set she'd gotten from Shia as a Chanukah present. Marble it was, exhumed from the mines far south of the States' invisible border, or so Tara heard. The stone was creamy, every piece polished to an incandescent sheen.

Beautiful yes, yet it was practically useless to all but a couple of people. Yune and Robin were going at it tooth and nail, matching each other move for move, each side utterly refusing to give in. Poker faces quickly dropped when both had been removed of half their pieces, brows furrowing irritably when both had been removed of the queens. It wasn't long till the game had boiled down to an arduous stalemate, Robin's lone king against Yune's king and last rook.

Hours would have passed if Rufus declared the battle over, hopping on the checkered slab and reaching his paws for the ceiling.

"Huh - game over!" he squeaked.

"Yes, I know." Yune yawned. "It would've been over sooner if she'd just give up."

"Give in?" Robin blinked. "Me? Ha! You are sorely mistaken, Yune, but I simply wished to spare you a humiliating defeat!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Rob—"

A foot gave the man's shin a firm tap. She wasn't going to say whom.

"OW!" He yelped. "The hell—?"

"Be nice, Yune." She smirked.

"What're you talking about?" his look perplexed when he gave her one. "I was nice - for a second! I wanted to let her off easy, but she wouldn't have it! She kept pushing so I pushed back! There's nothing wrong with that!"

"Of course!" she shrugged. "You're the man. You have to be so -strong- and so -tough-! But tell me, Mr. Man. Do you feel so big and so strong by pounding on your poor, helpless hostess?"

"Not really." He shrugged back as he let his fingers take a walk on the game board. Robin furrowed her brow when he made her king plant his crown on the board, just by a simple flick. "But it couldn't hurt."

"I must ask you not to be so harsh with these pieces." Robin returned her king to his feet. "They are fragile, and I do not know where I can procure another should one of them break."

"My bad, Rob." He said. "But it wouldn't have happened if you just gave up!"

"Never!" the girl exclaimed back. "You may tear out my stomach, you may drive the sword through my body - but I shall never surrender!"

"Spoken like a true patriot!" the Asian smirked.

Robin turned her attention to her fallen comrades, giving them a second chance when she returned them correctly to the board.

"Can you blame me?" Robin asked.

"Nope." Yune gave new life to his own soldiers when he placed them back on the checkered field. "Can't say that I do."

"Well what do you wish to do now, my friends?" the girl asked. "Is anyone here in favor of a game with me?"

"No thanks." She declined with a shake of the head. "I wasn't any good at strategy games."

"I know." Her man nodded, a little too deeply at that. "You'll never win if you try to smash through like a barbarian—!"

Her toe found his foreleg again.

"Hey—!" he couldn't finish.

"Is for horses, Yune." She was far ahead of him.

"You got to stop hitting me…." he moaned weakly.

"Oh - take it like a man, you big baby!" her smile was wide. "How're you going to be a good role model for the kids if you can't take a little kick, hmm…?"

Pieces clattered on the game board. Robin made like a bug, dark eyes halfway out her skull while a beautifully crafted rook was nothing but a mere pebble in her hand.

"You are…?" Robin was baffled. "You are -pregnant-, Tara?"

All heads whipped around, their eyes planted firmly on her. She could feel pieces of herself being plucked away by the incredulous yet scrupulous stares. The blood rushed to her face, to her ears, feeling hotter by the second. Her eyes too began to cross, a subtle pain just behind them right after they came out of a blink.

"WHAT?" She barked. "I NEVER SAID THAT!"

"But you had just—!"

"Oh - for the love of!" her palm met her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her lips, and her chin before it slapped her leg. "It's—! I didn't mean—!"

"We know, Tara." She felt her man's firm hand take her own into his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Calm down. You're going to give yourself a heart attack, one of these days."

"He's right, Tara." Kimberly agreed from her seat at the couch, leaning against her towheaded beau. It was true; she and Ron really were together. Separation anxiety was useful after all. "Just pump the brakes."

"Pump?" she blinked. "What're you talking about? Sadie has ABS, last I checked."

"Coming from you and that junk-heap truck of yours, T?" Kim put a kink in her brow. "You might as well."

"Oh." She batted her eyes. "Right… I think."

"Why do you get so worked up anyway, Tara?" Ron asked. "Sure your dad works in the car business, but you're pretty well off. You've practically won! Stop screaming all the time!"

"Not my fault people like to rattle my chains." She took her hand back, folded her arms petulantly. "For the last time, I'm telling you, I'm AUSTRIAN - not GERMAN!"

"Don't get her heritage confused with those Nazis now…!" Yune noted, pointing it out with a quick wave of the finger.

"Damn straight!" she nodded.

"Dude!" Ron threw up his hands. "I'm part Russian, but everyone thinks I'm Swedish. Do I give a damn? Hell no, I don't! I let it slip right off my back, and I get the hell on with my life!"

"I suggest you do the same, T." Yune said. "I'm not going to marry a bitter old woman, you know."

A sigh. "I know…."

"Good." Another smirk cut across his stone face. "Now if you please, go and grab us some Heinekens, -Deutsche-!"

His head jostled, the black mat shifting back a tick when her palm met the back of his skull.

"Whatever you say, dearest." She couldn't help but shoot him a sly smirk of her own. "Whatever you say…."

"As much as we like to see the dyad in action," Kim said musingly, "I'd like to know what's going on in town."

"Good luck on that." Yune replied. "After that little Iron Butterfly light show, the whole country's practically on a stand-still. Besides, my little call to the mayor practically put Jerusalem under lockdown. One seemingly wrong move, and you're on the wrong side of a police line-up."

"Was that really the right move?" Ron protested uselessly. "We saved the country! Sure, the higher-ups want to celebrate by giving away the most coveted piece of real estate, but can't we at least be there to see it happen?"

"Why on earth would you want to?" Robin asked. "Even without Yune's call, I have a feeling that the ceremony would turnout very few Jews. It is heartbreaking; the very stones cry out! Would we have won the Temple Mount - let alone 1967 to know the descendants would simply give it up? I do not know about you, but I feel very strongly that they would not have even bothered."

"Why'd they bother then?" Kim asked. "Why not turn the weapons on themselves, live Masada all over again?"

"Interesting you mention Masada, friend." Robin's smirk was weak. "Built by Herod in the first century BC, and it was the last stand of the Zealots' 'Great Revolt'. It is so very important to the Israeli mentality, where the fight for Israel and the Jewish people soared to such heights that the people would rather die than surrender to the encroaching Roman hordes. Atop that venerated mountain, I am certain I will take the oath my friends-in-arms will take alongside me. 'Masada shall not fall again.' I believe this. I -believe- this!

"1948, 1967, and the other conflicts… the brave men and women who fought in those conflicts. Though the official oath certainly came about in a time of relative peace, I am certain that those very soldiers believed in it too. They have had to believe it, believe in what they were doing!"

"But why, Robin?" Tara asked. "Why…?"

"A future…!" Yune folded his arms confidently. "Not for the here and now, but a future! A future worth seeing, I'm sure, one worth living in. Though they were drafted, I'm sure deep down they believe it too - duly true if they are career soldiers, devoting their skills to that purpose."

"Yes, my friend." Robin nodded. "You are correct! Sadly, ideals can only get you so far in today's materialistic world. Many have lost sight, it seems, corrupted by the here and now. They are so far gone that they will cater to any demand for simple sheet of legal paper, a mere promise! Politics rule the day, half-truths and political correctness cause great rifts among the nation.

"Certainly that evil Simeon is finally gone, but the threat is still very much alive. There is an overabundance of evil among us. We will drown in the toxic overflow, and the state of Israel with it. The endgame itself; we will not go out with a nuclear bang, but a crippling whimper."

"Tragic…." The tips of her fingers rubbed thoughtfully at her lips.

"Too true." Ron nodded heartily. "Hopefully, it won't come to that, but after our time here…. Man, I don't know what to believe anymore."

"Straight and narrow, my friend." She smiled. "Adhere to Torah, Talmud and Tanach. Do that and the good Lord shall see you through. Of that, I am certain."

"But where does that leave us?" Kim asked honestly. "What're we going to do?"

"I do not know." Robin slight shrug was lost as the girl pushed away from the table. "But I simply cannot stand by and watch the holy mountain be ripped away from us."

"What're you—?"

"I am going to the ceremony." The dark girl sniffed. "And perhaps pray a little. Do not try to stop me, for my sake at least!"

"I understand." Yune nodded, too pushing away from the table. "That's why I'm coming with you."

"You serious?" She asked.

"Of course I am, Tara." He nodded back. "During our time here, she's done so much for us. I think it's time we do something for her, even if it's minimal."

"I guess so." Her brow perked. "And trying to talk you out of it is wasted breath, so I'm coming with!"

"We're all coming with." Kim pushed herself free of the couch... only to lean gingerly against her man. A warm sight, and it was along time coming. "Right, Ronnie?"

"You got it, KP." The blond nodded back. "Count me in."

"We're all here for you, Robin." She smiled warmly, yanking that wonderful girl into a bear hug. "Don't forget it!"

"Oh - KAY!" The dark girl struggled against her. She wasn't sure if she was hacking or laughing, breathing haggardly. "My… how STRONG you are—!"

Yune's smirk was as smug as ever.

"Now you know how I feel…." He said.

"Shut it, or you're going to have some more ribs break on you!" she retorted.

"Whatever you say, my German princess—!"

"Yune—!" Robin may have escaped her hot grasp, but she couldn't finish.

"You're Austrian - not German…." The gang did it for her in a tired, jaded moan. "We -know-…!"

"Damn straight!" she nodded proudly. "And don't you forget it!"

XXX

With the major offensives and operations over, battles they had simply put behind them, a change in wardrobe was in order. The gang had taken back to their civvies quite easily while Robin simply had stuck with her cream colored sweats. Time was against her, Yune guessed, not the time to get prim and proper. The last time the deed was in Israel's name, and by God, that girl was going to see it.

He'd guarantee it!

The small crowds had pooled on the steps that led to the sacred plateau itself, the stairwell long and very wide, even half of it covered not by the mob. Most of them had been clustered at the summit, swarming around a pair of podiums. Soldiers kept watch attentively, their M16s held firm in their gloves yet trained simply down to the ground. But they weren't soldiers of the Israeli military. Uniforms with the desert print and the woodland green load-bearing vests were a dead giveaway.

"Americans." He let his binoculars drop from his sight, forgotten yet its solid tapping against his sternum reminded him all too well. "Just like I thought."

"That is what they look like?" Robin asked. The thin sling became a garrote, yanking at his neck when a dark hand took the scopes off his chest. "They look European to me."

"No European would be caught with those rifles, I assure you." He gently took back his scopes. "The handguns maybe. With modern technology on the rise, its hard to keep track anymore."

"I guess." The girl shrugged. "At first I mistook them for Israeli, but they rarely patrol in camouflage."

"True." He nodded.

"Americans…?" Ron steps were short as he parked himself right next to him. The sling scratched at this throat again when a squared hand took up the binoculars. "Hey… you're right! What're they doing over here? Shouldn't they be pulling guard duty back at Tel Aviv?"

"They're probably -from- Tel Aviv, Ron." He relieved himself of the tightness in his throat when he relinquished the sling altogether, giving that lingering, tight line a rub with a finger. "Pulling guard duty here, ensuring Palestine's acquisition of the mount's a smooth one. I'm sure they have police back-up too."

"So this is Mount Mariah, eh?" Kim's light steps were quick and short, her voice loud as she squeezed between him and Ronald. How appropriate; he stole a glance. They were hand in hand, the set of thicker, squared fingers lacing with the petite, finer one. "This is where all the 'peace' and 'love' in the world's circling around? Funny, I thought it'd be a smoking crater by now."

"Judaism, Christianity, and Islam." Robin replied. "Not so much the latter, since it is only the reputed third holiest site, and the only 'proof' is an obscure verse in the Koran. Though everyone knows that the furthest mosque, '-Al-Aqsa-', is Medina, not Jerusalem. But do not tell them that."

"Why's that?" Kim asked.

"Because you'll find yourself catching quite a view from a lamppost." Ron finished. "Trust me, it's not a pretty sight. Believe me…."

"Don't worry, Ronnie." Kim cooed. "I do."

"Good."

"Yune?" his girl asked, promptly slipping herself between Robin and himself. Gentle warmth flushed through his arm, tingling in his chest when he felt her fingers interlock with his. She leaned on his shoulder, into him. Touching, though her head felt like a seven-pound rock. "What're you thinking about?"

"Nothing really." His lips pushed through her hair, giving her scalp a quick peck. "How 'bout you, T?"

A sigh came from beneath that puffy, blonde mat. Blood pumped its way through his shoulder again when she took back her head. The insoles of her makeshift clogs smacked against her heels when she turned squarely for him, placing her arms around his neck. They were cold to the touch, from her wrists her tank's spaghetti straps on her shoulders. Must have been the breeze.

"Oh… I don't know, Yune." She sighed again. "Maybe it's just me, but I can't help but feel we lost somehow. I know Drazen's dead and all, his army's disbanded, thrown to the wind like that Family bunch, but still…. Coming here, watching this place being taken from Robin and her friends and family. It feels like all's for nothing. We chased the wind this whole time!"

"I know how you feel, T." he pressed his lips against her light crown, pressing her body against his own. "But we were soldiers in this fight. It's not our place to question how or why. That's the historians' job. All we can do now is just sit and wait, and hope that the higher-ups will wake up sooner than later."

"I guess you're right." Her head shifted up and down against his chest before she pushed away. "We're here for Robin, after all. So… let's -be here-!"

"You already are, friends." The dark girl replied. "And thank you."

"You don't call us friends for nothing, Robin." Tara turned her head for her. "Remember that."

"Do not worry, Tara." Rob said. "I will not."

"Good." Her arms slipped off his body when she stood upright. "Then we're settled."

"Indeed."

The armed men at the summit went straight, stiffer than a faggot of two-by-fours. Their assault rifles swept backwardly behind them, their legs pressed together. Their right arms swept up from their sides, bending at the crook while the naked tips of their gloved fingers touched the side of their brows.

The ceremony had begun.

Three men in suits strolled up to the front of the summit, head and shoulders above the encroaching throng. Two of them took to a podium while the third simply stood between the two. The Americans flanking the suits dropped the salute at the center man's call, pushing their tanned boots shoulder length apart, their hands placed squarely in the small of their backs.

The crowds' front line scurried about, taking their positions, training their cameras' absorbing black eyes onto the podiums. Certainly the natives and the local news would miss out, their equipment fried by the blast over the valley. That didn't mean the world media had to miss out. Whatever had become dead weight was simply tossed away, speedily replaced, and bandwidth was linked to servers in the US, given the utter monopoly on the satellite industry.

The planet would be treated to a show after all. Goody, goody…!

The center suit was a rather portly man, his belly as wide as his thin shoulders, shifting side to side while he bobbed for the lone microphone stand like a penguin. The sun reflected off his smooth skull, shining nicely on the slick skin. Pudgy fingers handled the stand with kid hands, nearly dropping the microphone altogether. But those same fingers easily put those coke-bottle lenses back up his nose with a push to the thick bridge.

"Thank you, ladies and gentleman, for braving whatever insecurities you all may have just to be here today." The baldy greeted. "I am Vespasian Titus, ambassador to Israel and the Palestinian Authority. The President, Vice President could not make it today for this historic event, not even the Secretary of State. No, they all have been diverted to the Victims' Separatist Army, to their unconditional surrender following the swift death of their commander. Yes, people of the great global village; the threat is gone: Uzziel Lichtenfeld Drazen is finally dead!"

The crowd became a bi-polar choir in an instant. A roar of applause stormed through the masses, cheers, shouts, whistles, and claps! All of it blended together homogeneously, pounding at his eardrums like they were bongos. They forced his hand, his fingers to his ears, slipping them in till they could go no more. Still that choir sang in joyous discord, slipping past his finger as though it was not even there! He was certain he and the gang would go deaf when that man held up an UZI sub-machinegun triumphantly like a trophy.

"Yes, people." The pudgy man smiled. The crowd had managed to stifle itself. "The proof right here, forged by the very fire that did the man in. I have seen his body myself, charred beyond all recognition. The only clue to the corpse's identity is this gun. The body has been placed into the custody of the police, and it's probably at the appropriate facility as I speak. We will have to wait for a DNA test, but I can say with confidence that his identity will confirm our suspicions!"

The mass gave the portly man another shout of applause. A few even threw their headdresses into the air as though it were graduation day.

"What's with this guy?" Ron demanded. "He sounds as bad as the PA!"

"I agree with Ronald." Robin followed. "As delighted as the territories should be, this speech is completely unfitting of an Ambassador - let alone one from the United States! They say they are the neutral party, but the actions of their envoys speak louder than any of their prepared words!"

"That's the PC crowd for you, Rob." He nodded. "Living on the right side - -left- side, rather, of double-standards where all rules apply except to them."

"Yeah." His girl agreed. "I try to hear both sides out, but this is inappropriate! Not only does it show that he's biased and crass, but it also shows he just plain stupid. It's like there's nothing wrong with being neutral, but since -he's- an ambassador, he can do whatever he wants or say anything he wants! With jack-offs like him, no wonder we get a bad rap around the globe!"

"Heard that!" Ron affirmed.

"Come on, guys." Kim pressed gently. She certainly had a knack for being Satan's advocate, alright. "Give him a break. We've all been through a lot here. I'm sure the public can forgive him if he embellishes just a little bit."

"I doubt it seriously, KP." Ron replied. "If there's anything the people like to claw at more, it's a pompous loudmouth. Just look at Hollywood! That's a prime example!"

"He's a politician, Ron." Kim argued. "That's practically his job description!"

"Still isn't an excuse, Kimberly." He pressed. "Just because you can doesn't mean you should."

"Come on, now." The auburn sighed. "Am I the only one in the team that thinks differently?"

The team promptly gave Kimberly the answer, rather bluntly, just like all the other good answers life had to offer.

"Yes!" they all exclaimed.

"Super…!" the auburn groaned. "Your loss then."

"So be it!" They all replied.

"Fine!" two thin limbs flailed up in the air to his left, only to drop back down with a slap a moment later. "God…!"

It was Tara's turn to take her shot. "Silly little Democrat—!"

"Shut up, Tara!" the auburn shot back.

"Yes!" the ambassador continued despite the racket of an ovation. Thankfully to Yune's ears, the very audible consent began to drop, gradually overwhelmed by the breeze. "This whole region shares your joy. The Major is gone, and his infamous memory shall be forever desecrated as we ensue in the very act he himself had nearly triggered World War Three to prevent!"

"No wonder Hershel's always cynical." His girl noted softly. "This guy's a pig!"

"Despite the VSA and the threats of assassination and overthrow," the ambASSador continued, "Prime Minister Irit and Chairman Abd-al-Latif have made it here today, thanks to the cooperation of the Palestinian Authority and the Israeli government. The Major maybe no more, but it is necessary that we all continue to work together to protect the people, whether Muslim or Jew, Palestinian or Israeli, and ensure that another 'heretic' such as Drazen never surfaces again! I am certain that this ceremony today is but a single step to achieve that goal.

"Since the passing of the former chairman, Israel has generously taken the first step to recognize the Palestinians as a nation and as a viable state by handing over ownership of this sacred piece of land. The world looks on favorably at the Israeli government, despite hardliners and hawks in the Knesset and the cabinet, despite religious fanatics in the populace and settlements. This ceremony today is a firm step towards true peace in the Middle East!"

"As well as makes a nice mark on your bid for President!" Ron sneered. "It's Oslo all over again, I'm telling you!"

"Calm down, Ronnie." The auburn said gently.

"It will start here!" the piggy proudly exclaimed, holding a piece of paper carefully, by the edges as though God had been infused all His power into those tiny typed letters. "This document describes this very step. The signing of this document will be that very step! And the countries of this great global village will help these two countries every step of the way! God bless Palestine, may He bless Israel, and may God truly bless the world! Thank you very much!"

A man could eat headcheese if one was to cook it right, and boy did Mr. Titus (Vespasian Titus; how appropriate)! The pig practically spat it out, and the crowd ate it up, practically demanding seconds with their hasty hoots and hollers. Not he! He spat it out with a firm grunt, like the poison it was. The team followed suit. Ron with an ill groan, his girl with a sigh, Robin with a sober shake of the head, and Kim… well - Kim was a -special- girl, after all…!

"What a blowhard…!" Ron was exasperated. Either by the speech or how the Prime Minister bought into it, he didn't know. Then again, a lie will become a form of 'truth' if it is repeated enough.

"More like a mind-job, if you ask me." Tara said astutely. "He doesn't care what happens to this country or its people! Just as long as he looks good doing it!"

"Such always has been the 'peace process'." Robin said. "The west calls it peace while the Palestinians mold very processes into part of their -phases-! But this man, Chairman Abd-al-Latif, he is different. He is actually a whole lot better than the man the PA was going to pick, Abbas or something of that nature. I have done my readings and my research to know that is true."

"Whatever happens, let's just hope that it doesn't go badly." He said grimly.

"You and I both, my friend." Robin agreed. "You and I both…!"

XXX

"Little fishes come and see my hook…!" Uzi smirked, taking himself to a squeaky knee.

Everything was set. Eli was in place, armed and ready. Thanks to him, of course, reluctantly handling the security detail with trained ease, without a shot of protest. The fat baldy had to wait; his security came a little too prepared. It wouldn't matter in a moment. The baldy, Mr. -Putz-, his target, and all the mindless masses they control. They'll all die the split second the burning match tapped the oily pavement.

And by some fluke the gasoline and the kerosene couldn't do them in, the little present pressed against his back would.

He let gravity pull his gaze down upon the sacred plateau. The brainless crowd eagerly caught the utter -dreck- the bald pig scooped out of his feeding troth, sugarcoating it, pitching it to them in flashy words and worthless ideals. They gobbled it down like candy, inhaling it till they choked.

But the 2nd lieutenant would put a stop to that. Oh yes, he would! He had just carted the last, troublesome policeman off to his final resting place, in the blackest shade the terrain could offer. He pressed that lean, stringy frame of his against the proper wall, sliding himself closer to the target. At least the Americans were stupid enough to leave its backside wide open for a strike—!

"Yes!" he smiled the best he could.

The speech had finished; the pig had wobbled itself back from the center mike as his thick, pudgy hooves set down a slip of paper in front of the -putz-. Putz's shoulder twitched, his arm shifted a bit closer to that paper. A golden glint shined from the man, just above his gnarled hand - smack dab above that paper!

Placing his feet down carefully upon that accursed onion, he shot himself up tall, all for the masses to see!

It was time!

XXX

The speech had already finished. Kim saw the shiny appointments of the Prime Minister's pen glisten in the sunlight like gold while it dove for the document. She could just about see the bottom fourth of it disappear behind the looming trim - and a dark smudge appeared, cattycorner to her, atop the Dome of the Rock. It was strange. A shadow doesn't flap like that, rippling with the breeze like the fabric of a flag.

The clammy touch of dread crawling across her sides drove it home all to well.

"Bravo, Cossack!" the figure called out to them, and the suits turned their heads aptly.

"Who the—?" the Ambassador said, nearly capsizing when he turned around.

"Admirable speech, my friend!" the rippling shadow finished for him. "A little too pompous for my tastes, though! Gift of the silver tongue, I suppose. It does mark a good officer, you know. And of a self absorbed fraud! Oinkers like you're too in love with the sound of your squeals to speak the truth!"

"Who the hell are you?" the bald man demanded with a stomp.

His well-armed security took point in a formation reminiscent of a British Square, training their assault rifles on the dark blur. Some of the camera crews followed suit, shifting those endless, empty stares onto the gold dome.

"Identify yourself!" the pudgy man demanded again. "Say it now and my men won't shoot you!"

"Who am I?" the blur called back. "Oh… I don't know. Let's just say I'm a ghost, coming back to haunt these dirty - rotten - inbred - filth!"

Dread's clammy touch hugged her like a bear. Fear was a sauce, smothering her brain thickly when her eyes caught a hint of olive in the flapping black. Pain pierced into her head, into the back of her brain like the sharp glare shimmering atop that shifting blackness.

"The FUCK, MAN!" Ron eyes aptly crossed in sheer bewilderment.

"No…!" she shook her head incredulously… furiously… violently! "It can't be - it JUST CAN'T!"

"Who am I, you ask?" the flapping, shiny blackness called out. "Why I'm YOU! I'm your shadow! I'm the very thing that keeps you awake at night, residing in the dark corner of your mind! I'm the culmination of the very hatred festering in this country - the Grim Reaper, the destroyer - the -Dajjal-! But you should know me by now! I go by another name, one this whole world should know by now! Who am I?"

"I should've known!" Yune growled.

"UZZIEL LICHTENFELD DRAZEN!" the blur shouted proudly back. "FUCKERS - I'M NOT FINISHED YET!"