Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutant.
Rock was a soldier. When he left home, he had his wife’s name tattooed on the back of his right wrist, where he could always see it in combat. They said he was the fiercest fighter but to him it wasn’t bravery. He just wanted to go home to the woman he loved. Then his commander told him his city had been taken and his house destroyed, and something in Rock broke. He deserted without a thought, becoming a mercenary. That was how Rock lived. Directly. Like a mace to the genitals.
Paper, though. Paper had grown up gently, in the forest. He felt most comfortable with an axe in his hands. One day, Paper told himself, he would go home and chop down all those trees that imprisoned his people. He had lost an eye in his one man war, but he would not quit. His vow was that, before he died, he would be known as a freedom fighter, the father of a new nation, a hero that never lost faith. On his back, a new history would be written.
And then there was Scissors. Scissors was born into a noble family. He took after his father, perhaps too much, excelling in his studies of swordplay and poison. Soon there were those at court who felt the young prince was becoming too dangerous to live. Sharp as ever, the swordsman vanished into the night, breaking his father’s heart.
And now, in this place, a random pair will meet in battle according to the whims of fate. For such is the law given down from forgotten kings of old: When war there be, best two of three!
Wear this shirt: when you’re looking to start some trouble.
Don’t wear this shirt: if your job involves dynamite.
This shirt tells the world: “Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of their women.”
We call this color: Olive For Today Because Tomorrow You May Die In Combat
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