More words, Green Ant? Only weapons you know seem to be constant blathering and being too damaged of brain to fear
Tursas. I do not need words as a weapon. I do not need weapons for a weapon. I am the walking embody of war. My
hands and form are stronger than any hammer, denser than any shield. You must know of this by now. You have spent
7 months trying to strike even slightest dent in Tursas, and have made none.
March of this year, you were simply placed at wrong point. Jakob is my responsibility, as deemed by Ares, who
handles matters on a daily basis greater than that of your entire Colony's existence. You should have seen this
for what it was, and be grateful you were left only with bruised rib and cracked ego. Yet not, you emerge next
month in Philadelphia to seek moot revenge on Tursas. This was gravest mistake of your life.
Through black magicks, steel has been placed where bone was once crumbled. You were made to have untrue strength
just strong enough to hoist my mighty form with not that bone snapping once more. More importance, you cost BDK
our King Of Trios glory. You brought all punishment upon your own self with these actions.
You rode by steel caravan through desolate middle states of America looking for some magic answer to your inner fears. You tried
to summon strength from withered old Lex Luger. You draped yourself in heinous colors of your country as though
they might protect. All you were left with was utter humiliation and defeat. You FAILED Green Ant. You FAILED
every mouth-breathing supporter of your cause.
And yet still, drenched in shame, you have persisted for months in trying to avenge your failings. Greeks had tale
of man like you. Sisyphus, who moved great boulder up hill, only to have it sent back before he could reach top and
rest. I am your boulder, Apprentice Ant. No matter what force you push with, I push back harder and send you back to
nothing. But this time story changes. No longer does boulder simply go back to the bottom. This time boulder rolls
over your stick-like frame and crushes it forever.
13 November 2011 is the date of your final attempt Sisyphean Ant. Your people call this day "High Noon." I
learn of this meaning in days past. Two men take 10 paces and draw pistoled gun until only one leaves. Very
American way of fighting. Coward's way. You stand at distance and let machine fight your battle. Tursas does
no such thing, soft brained insect scum. I will march direct to you and seize my hand upon your throat until
last breaths are trapped in lungs like a tomb. You will crumble at my feet and beg for last mercy, and I will
give you none. There is to be no ally to save you this time, and I have learned that my compassion to leave you
to surrender of your own will on 30 July was foolish.
Your end will be long agonizing public display sent all over lands through magicks that Jakob attempt to
explain several times. I care not to understand these things, but I do know that your end will be shown as it
happens to people of Finland. My people will see their hero rise up and end the vile Ant once and for all. Their
revelry will last many days, and my legend will swell yet further.
And with a world finally free of you, Green Ant, the age of Tursas shall begin...