And the book, so to speak, would have slammed on us as the last vestiges of an evil virus that plagued the galaxy for an insignificant amount of time, then died as we lived, kickin’ ass and taking names. And remembered. As. A. Virus.
Who started the war?
What?
The war, you say, has been going on for seven hundred thousand years?
Can you try harder not to roll your eyes when you do that? It makes you look stupid and childish.
Her face hardened.
Who started the war?
That’s all you have to say? It was going on. It’s over.
How do you know that?
Why? Because you didn’t?
You’re cut off, lady. There’s no one answering your call because there’s no one left! No one! Get it?
At this, she becomes enraged, slamming her open hands down on the table and pushing her chair back so abruptly that it topples over.
You lie! You don’t know what you’re talking about! That’s why you’re in here!
Really? So that’s why you care so much about what I don’t know? Look, lady, you’re trying to save your skin by cheating off the page of someone who couldn’t save their own. And now, the fact that you sold out your own kind for their imaginary wealth and power, which means fuck all now they’re all gone! And people are waking up to who was really in charge all along, and you’re next to be flushed, turd.
She kicked the chair and stormed away.
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