Everyone knew that at moments like these there was really only one thing to do.
Clive loved comfort. He loved his carefully curated conditioned convenience.
But now, he was forced to make a choice.
There was now something else - something bigger - at stake.
What would he do?
____
It was getting colder. More and more Dark Rizzards were coughing on purpose and More and more germs were proliferating, triggering Clive's Childhood PTSD.
"Give us the Blueprint…"
"Blueprint give us…"
"Give Blueprint us…"
___
Clive finally came to his decision.
He realised that his job wasn't necessarily victory in the conventional sense…
All he had to do… was delay them as long as possible!!!!
The Dark Rizzards were going to take him out of his comfort zone?
Well, let's see just how far they could take it…
He fired the rest of his flu-shots into the rest of the swarm of Dark Rizzards, wrapped himself in 6 puffer jackets and 7 layers of thermal underwear, and then, prepared himself for the onslaught…
Things were… heating up.
___
Itvashim frowned. The plan wasn't going as expected. Clive had proven remarkably resilient, or that is to say, adaptable. For every degree that the Dark Rizzards lowered the temperature, Clive compensated by adjusting the number of the puffer jackets he was wearing…
Never had they witnessed one man zip and unzip so quickly...