“Continuing the trend of covering things I don’t normally cover, I traveled at the speed of light metal to Barcelona, where I encountered an angry, ‘roided-out shark wearing nothing but bullet belts and cargo khakis that barely contained his quads. His name is Fred, but his friends and enemies just call him Red, for short. My first encounter with Red looked much like the scenery depicted to your left. Specifically, there were many explosions, gunshots, cacophonies of glass and cigarette-stained plastic shrapnel, and the sweet sound of skulls succumbing to ruthless whirlwinds of ignited ammunition.” Blood in the mortar.
