Nasty bits of business. Labor relations w/ the Tharks, reconstruction woes for the pyramids, The Face, the tourist fees for Mariner Valley—some genius at Mars HQ decided they needed an “expert” and that same genius decided that the “expert” needed was yours truly. So much for the new adamantium stitches in my new boots! So much for the Red Planet’s lackluster night-life! So until I knock the God of War into shape, there’ll be no posts until midweek at the earliest. Hang Tight, True Believers, I Will Return.
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