A certain man was walking through the dojo, with a expression that seemed to have a mixture of confusion, anger and tiredness that had melted together to create a anthropomorphic jacket potato. "Funny, I don't remember this courtyard being on the way to the.." He stopped, and his expression turned to one of dread, as he realised where he was. "Oh no." He looked around, recognising the place as one where he shot a particular figure about twenty consecutive times before it granted him a scenic, sarcastic imitation of death "Oh god no." The same place every single day people met to attempt to amiably shoot each other in the head. "Don't you dare." The place where every single word, a barely audible word was heard just before any two combattents met. The man sighed, and pressed a button one the headset that clung to one side of his head like a spider covered in glue. "What even is my life?" As if by magic, the word sounded: [spoiler]open[/spoiler]