After all said and done, I plopped straight down onto the dirt, my butt hitting the ground harder than it should have and I felt my colon shattering in half… Exaggeration, of course, although I did let out the most dramatic groan I could muster.
"Ugggghhhhhh…"
Sound like a middle aged white man.
Not a single monster touched me, not one barky fist grazed my armor, your indistructable roach queen was alive well and dandy.
But I still felt like my whole body was shredded from the inside out. My throat was sandpaper from all the screaming, had too much fun with every order, every call-out, every frantic "move left, rotate tanks, pop buffs!" had been grinding my vocal cords raw.
The Lil-titans didn't bruise me, only I bruised myself, then I would blame them for my injuries and… God I need to stop getting so political.
"Guess what, everyone," I muttered to nobody in particular. "Shot-calling in VR raids is apparently a cardio workout, someone please invent a throat potion."
