"You played well that game, didn't you, Kyle?" Yes. Three touchdowns," I said proudly. "It was my best game."My brother asked, "Wasn't that the weeken... you got drunk and Mom and Dad grounded you for a month?" Yes, thanks for reminding me, Andy," I said. Stan Humphries, our starting tailback and Greg Harrison, starting tight end, met us as we turned the corner to go down the hallway to the gym.Stan asked, "You guys ready to relive our glory night?"Greg gushed, "You bet. I'm going to enjoy. "I can make a plan that will get your stones to New York and odds are 50/50 the bad guys will leave you alone when they realize they have been duped. They may or may not come back next month to try again. This plan has an 80% chance of saving your stones, and an 80% chance of ending this threat. That is if it all works out as I expect it to work out. If not there is a a 20% you and I will end up dead. So now that you know the long and short of it, how do you want to play it?" I asked."I'm not. I was still trying to figure this out when we ran into each other on Friday afternoon, school was just out for the week. We talked for a while when everyone was saying goodbye to each other. She mentioned she didn’t have to be home until a while later. When most of our friends had left, she swiftly changed the tone of her voice.“Do you know where the G-spot is?”- “Of course”, I replied. (For the record: I don’t believe in the G-spot, it’s scientifically impossible, but what’s a boy to say when. Just winners, losers, owners, and slaves. It's a wonder how something so simple fucked everything up so royally.The Fighter's Law was an edict declared by the God of Conquest, whether it was an act of contempt or one of shear boredom matters not anymore, to survive is the only option for the inhabitants of New Heartland.And now, the edict's laws fall upon your shoulders, for once one reaches the age of 18 they are thereby entered into the Fight, and all laws and rules apply. "Free game" if you.