Okay, picture this: Some terrible enemy arrives and knocks you straight outta your cotton socks. Humanity is shattered, the Guardians defeated, the City burns and you lay at the feet of your second-greatest enemy (your greatest is RNG). You know you can’t win; all hope is lost. Just as your enemy is about to land the final blow, your enemy gets smacked in the back of the head by a stick. They fall -totally dead- to reveal Variks with his trusty staff. He’s clad in Judgement banners, pumped up with Ether, looking sexy like a Kell should. He leans over you, bringing his face close to yours. You look into the soft blue glow of his eyes, and he looks into yours. He rests his hands on your shoulders, pulling you so close that your lips nearly brush against his chainmail mask. You hear every subtle rumble in his throat as he whispers to you… “Dismantle mines, Guardian.”