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???: Hello?
Logan: Hey what's up man? It's Logan. Was just checking to see if everything was still a go for the eleventh.
???: Oh! My man Logan! Just finished watching your match. Tough loss, but you'll get them at the PPV. As for what we discussed, I was able to talk to some higher ups, and they agreed to let you throw out the first pitch.
Logan: Wicked awesome! And the rest?
???: Does Big Papi let his fans down? The Boston Red Sox gladly have agreed to your other request my man.
Logan: I knew you'd come through David. I appreciate it. If you ever need anything, I'll do my best to repay you.
David Ortiz: No worries man, I'll see you and your family on Monday, have a safe trip.
Logan: Thanks again, see you Monday.
The battle was fierce. Had there been anyone left to witness the severity of punishment The Serpent and The King inflicted upon one another, the legends would live on through the annals of time. Yet, there are none. While the outcome was foretold by the elders, none remain to reap the yield of the great battles harvest.
As the god-King fell, so too did the Earth. Into the sea, into oblivion, into the nothingness that the gods failed to account for during the creation. The Serpent peered down from the barren heavens upon the vanquished world, and knew that it was good. Destruction had won over stability, desecration over ornamentation. Where once rested the majesty of the Earth, now smoldered the remains of a scorched world as silent screams filled the empty skies where the gods once paraded their bounties.
The Serpent slithered over His prize, Odins golden shield. Engraved with the images of a King, forged by the hands of the gods. As He transforms again, so does the shield, withering, yet still shimmering, The Angel of Death wraps the withered shield around his waist. He finally rests, gazing down upon what once was.
The Angel transforms again into The Serpent, His scales towering above the heavens. From the far reaches of the universe, He gazes down upon the slain King, lying motionless amidst the barren wasteland. The Kings corpse levitates to an upright position as The Serpent retracts His head. Staring into the empty eyes of the slain King, adorning the withered shield around His figure, The Serpent lunges His pointed head into the Kings midsection, causing the corpse to bend at the waist and fall upon its knees as the sun's light is vanquished by the abysmal darkness.