The Arena
Two war-hardened generals stare each other down across an expanse of sand. The war seems to have gone on forever, and in the middle of a ceasefire, both perennial enemies have turned to peace talks. If they succeed, maybe this unnecessary destruction will stop. But should they fail, the world will be bathed in flames. “Stephen, you sly fox”, one calls out. “So, you finally seek for peace. I thought you would never grow tired of throwing unwashed bodies at my fortified trenches” “Ken, you son of a gun!” the other shouts as they walk towards each other. “It is understandable that you’ve grown weary of drinking your own piss and cowering in damp tunnels. Tell me, how does the fresh air taste like?” At this point, both grizzled veterans stand, only a few centimeters apart, measuring each other up. “I’ll cut to the chase, Steve”, Ken spits out the name like an insult, staring down at the shorter general. “Hand over your border te...