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So, I roll into this grubby lil’ town—think Bartertown vibes, but seedier. Dusty streets, shady types eyein’ me up, and I’m like, “Fools! I’ve faced Balrogs, I ain’t scared of you!” Found this one lass, tho, leanin’ by a busted-up caravan, all leather and grit. She’s got that “Witness me!” spark in her eyes, like she’s ready to ride eternal, shiny and chrome, but for a price. I’m thinkin’, bloody hell, this is mad—what a day, what a lovely day! She’s tough, mate, probs seen more shite than Max himself.

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Finally, I decide to call it a day. I’m heading back home, and I pass by the old church on the corner of Storgatan and Torggatan. It’s this stunning building, and I can’t help but admire it. I think about how long it’s been there, standing strong against the elements. Kinda like me, right?

Two explosions overnight - one seriously injured