The Seven Days War.
Last night, we packed our bags and slept our last good night’s sleep for seven days. For today, we begin our journey to the SouthEast. Repairs were made to the machines late into the night (those that suffered near destruction on our last two battles in Baltimore). We are southbound now. As I type from the belly of the rolling Thundercon, this machine called Jesse Christine the last of the V8 Interceptors, we see that we may well be too late. For miles now we’ve seen nothing but destruction. A white line nightmare. This sight weighs heavy on our hearts. Onward we drive… into the smoke… into this maelstrom of decay, where ordinary men are battered and smashed. If we make it through the night, we will count ourselves lucky. This is a shell of a place. A burned out desolate land haunted by the demons of its past. And as we wander out into this wasteland, we can’t help but wonder, in this blighted place… will we crumble? Will we fall? Or will we learn to live again?…like Max did…you know…The Warrior Max.
If and when we return home on the fifth of November…we will finally return to the studio to begin the fight of fights. Stand with us now men and women of the Southeast. We need you more than ever.
-Panther
I’m the saddest person alive right now because I missed such a great spectacle due to my age.
I hope you make another trip to Atlanta sometime, because I am dying to see you guys.
Remember, remember, the fifth of November.
Time to rock, gentlemen.
Starting a project on my birthday? This is such an honor to be able to say that the Protomen started Act II on my birthday!!!
“…we will finally return to the studio to begin the fight of fights.”
I died as I read this.