Duke and Fifa ignored their new neighbors and set to work making a baby for the future of whatever race would dare lay claim to them. A chiming of post-coital bells signaled that a lobsterous bun had been deposited in the oven. His work done, Duke dozed.
Fifa's world was rocked, naturally, but her mind was elsewhere.
She joined the guests in the living room and enjoyed some television. Conversation was sporadic and seemed to focus mainly on sushi rolls and airplanes.
And you thought women had one-dimensional script intros that treated them like sex objects. Ewoks have it even worse.
No one seems to like the new Doom box art. But it's still the same old Doom Guy under that space marine helmet. Right?
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