CHUD: THE ARYAN HEAVEN – THE OBSCURE ONE A PENTAGON YEARS EPISODE Setting: After Chud's enlightenment by Gigachad, before meeting Moonman. Chud has acquired a massive data cache from "Lawnmower Man" (the Cob Gang cult leader). He and Nate are analyzing it in their temporary base—an abandoned GDA facility. COVER Full-page splash. NOPHONO dominates the center—eight feet of grey, muscular flesh in a cheap electric blue suit, its face a blank, smooth plane. Shadowy tendrils radiate from its back, dissolving books and hard drives into streams of data. In the foreground, CHUD stands ready to fight, fists clenched, psychic energy flickering. GIGACHAD is beside him, uncharacteristically serious. NATE cowers behind a console. The background is a chaotic swirl of forgotten facts, dead URLs, and crumbling parchment. Tagline: "HE FEEDS ON WHAT YOU FORGOT. AND YOU FORGOT A LOT." PAGE 1 PANEL 1 INT. ABANDONED GDA FACILITY – NIGHT A cold, repurposed bunker. Fluorescent lights flicker. Racks of servers line the walls, their indicator lights blinking in arrhythmic patterns. In the center, a holographic display projects streams of data—financial records, encrypted messages, classified documents. NATE HIGGERS sits at a console, his face illuminated by the glow, eyes bloodshot from hours of work. NATE (typing furiously): "Lawnmower Man wasn't lying. This cache is massive. Cob Gang really did a number on Majestic-12's dark archives." PANEL 2 CHUD stands behind Nate, arms crossed, watching the data scroll. He's in his early post-enlightenment costume—still the blood-red trim, but the half-swastika is now visible, no longer hidden. His posture is calm, patient. CHUD: "Anything usable?" NATE: "Usable? This is the Rosetta Stone of globalist corruption. Bank accounts, offshore holdings, blackmail material, even some of their contingency plans." He pauses, zooming in on a file. "But it's a mess. They encrypted everything with nested ciphers. It's going to take weeks to parse." CHUD: "We have weeks." NATE: "Do we? Moonman's already building his crew. The pentagon's watching us. And you've been acting... different since you met the grey guy." PANEL 3 Chud doesn't answer. He looks toward a shadowed corner of the room. In that corner, barely visible, stands GIGACHAD. He's not eating grapes. He's not cracking jokes. His massive grey arms are crossed, his chiseled face set in an expression Chud has never seen before: genuine concern. CHUD: "He's been quiet." NATE (following his gaze): "Quiet? He's been standing there for three hours. I thought he was meditating." PANEL 4 Gigachad steps forward. His footsteps are heavy, deliberate—no casual grace. He stops in front of the holographic display, staring at the cascading data. GIGACHAD (voice low, serious): "The data. It is not just information. It is... chum." NATE: "Chum?" GIGACHAD: "Bait. For something that swims in the deep of forgotten things." Chud's eyes narrow. He's learned to trust Gigachad's instincts. CHUD: "Explain." PAGE 2 PANEL 1 Gigachad turns to face them fully. For the first time, Chud notices that the Giga-flies that usually buzz around him are still—clustered on his shoulders like a mourning cloak. GIGACHAD: "On Gigartha, we achieved balance by shedding obsession. But not all of us succeeded. Some fell into the abyss of singular fixation. They became... Unbalanced Ones. Nophono is one such." NATE: "Nophono?" GIGACHAD: "The One Who Cares Only About What Nobody Cares About. He feeds on obscurity. Forgotten knowledge. Irrelevant data. The stuff that everyone else has deleted, buried, or simply stopped thinking about." PANEL 2 Chud processes this. His face remains cold, but his mind races. CHUD: "And you're saying he's attracted to this data? The global elite files?" GIGACHAD: "Not the files themselves. The... metadata. The forgotten file names. The corrupted sectors. The backup logs that no one will ever read. Nophono does not care about your conspiracy. He cares about the typo in the footer of page 47 of a PDF that was last opened in 2003." PANEL 3 Nate looks at the holographic display with new eyes. He sees it now—the dead links, the orphaned fragments, the decades-old digital detritus that came along with the main cache. NATE: "Oh no. Lawnmower Man's archives were stored on old servers. There's decades of... digital garbage attached. We didn't clean it before copying." GIGACHAD: "Then you have already set the table. And Nophono... is hungry." PANEL 4 Chud moves to a weapons locker, pulling out his spare gauntlets. CHUD: "How do we fight it?" GIGACHAD: "You cannot punch a library into not existing. You can only burn the books. But Nophono is not a creature of force. It is a creature of process. It consumes. To stop it, you must starve it—or feed it a paradox it cannot digest." NATE: "A paradox?" GIGACHAD: "A piece of information that appears obscure but contains a universally significant truth. The memetic equivalent of a wolf in sheep's clothing." PANEL 5 Chud pauses, gauntlet half-fastened. CHUD: "You're saying we need to trick it. Bait it with something that looks like shit nobody cares about, but is actually shit everybody cares about." GIGACHAD nods. For the first time, something like grim approval crosses his features. GIGACHAD: "Precisely. We must write the one thing that can destroy it. We must author 'Shit Everybody Cares About'... and make it look like shit nobody cares about." Nate's fingers hover over the keyboard. His mind is already racing. NATE: "I have an idea. But it's insane." CHUD: "We're in an abandoned bunker with a cosmic entity that eats forgotten footnotes. Insane is the baseline." PAGE 3 – MONTAGE: NOPHONO'S FEAST [Three panels, each showing Nophono feeding in different locations. The entity is only shown in shadow or silhouette—a vague grey shape, tendrils like static, the electric blue suit barely discernible. No face. Just presence.] PANEL 1 INT. ROME CATACOMB LIBRARY – NIGHT Ancient shelves, dust motes floating in torchlight. A robed librarian lies unconscious on the floor, his glasses askew. In the shadows, NOPHONO stands—eight feet of grey stillness. Tendrils snake out from its form, touching ancient codices. The books crumble to dust, their pages dissolving into streams of glowing data that flow up the tendrils and into the entity's chest. CAPTION: "Rome. A library buried beneath a basilica. Books no one had checked out in centuries." PANEL 2 INT. PENTAGON SERVER FARM – NIGHT A cold room of humming machines. Emergency lights flash red. Racks of servers are crushed inward, their metal casing dented as if by a giant fist. Data cables hang limp, severed. On the floor, a security guard's hand twitches, then stills. In the center of the destruction, a faint grey shimmer—the afterimage of something that has already moved on. CAPTION: "The Pentagon. Archives of failed projects. Decommissioned weapons systems. Generals' forgotten emails." PANEL 3 INT. SUBURBAN BEDROOM – NIGHT A child's room. Posters of cartoon characters. A nightlight shaped like a rocket ship. A small boy, maybe eight years old, hides behind his bed, clutching a stuffed animal. His eyes are wide, tears streaming down his face. Across the room, his desk is bare—drawers open, notebooks gone. Standing in the corner, illuminated by the weak glow of a table lamp, is NOPHONO. Its blank face is tilted down at the boy's diaries, which dissolve in its tendrils. CAPTION: "A child's bedroom. Diaries no parent would read. Dreams no one remembered." In the boy's wide eyes, reflected: the grey shape, the blue suit, the nothing where a face should be. PAGE 4 PANEL 1 INT. ABANDONED GDA FACILITY – CONTINUOUS Gigachad's eyes have glazed over, as if he's seeing through the walls, across distances. GIGACHAD: "It has been feeding for days. Rome. Washington. A thousand forgotten corners. It grows stronger with each forgotten byte." PANEL 2 Nate works frantically at the console, fingers flying across holographic keys. A new file takes shape on the screen: "yugobus_lamin_standards_final_final(1).txt" NATE: "I'm encoding the memetic virus now. The shell is a fake technical document—'Comparative Analysis of Pre-War Yugoslavian Bus Timetable Lamination Techniques.' It's so boring it's almost beautiful." CHUD: "And the payload?" NATE (grim smile): "A Mother's Love. I'm embedding the concept at a sub-cognitive level. The emotional resonance of unconditional maternal care. It's the least obscure thing I can think of." PANEL 3 Gigachad suddenly stiffens. His head turns toward the main entrance—a reinforced steel door, currently sealed. GIGACHAD: "It is close. It has finished its appetizers. Now it comes for the main course." CHUD: "How close?" GIGACHAD: "It is already here." PANEL 4 The air in the bunker grows thick and cold. The humming of the servers deepens into a distorted, low-frequency drone. The holographic display flickers, the data streams breaking into static. And then, the static resolves into a single, repeating image: a tall, grey-skinned figure in a cheap, electric blue suit, standing in an empty, undefined space. NATE: "Sensors are going insane. A localized reality field is superimposing itself over our own. It's... reading our archived data. The deeper storage. The stuff we scraped from forgotten forums and dead websites." PANEL 5 Chud watches the screen. His jaw tightens. CHUD: "What kind of data?" Nate pulls up a list. It scrolls faster than the eye can follow, but Chud's enhanced perception catches fragments: • ...stress-test results for pre-production ZX Spectrum models... • ...the complete lineage of the Habsburg family's court jester... • ...acoustic properties of different types of drywall from 1978-1984... With each line item processed, the image of the figure on the screen grows slightly more defined, its form seeming to gain density and mass. GIGACHAD: "It is not just learning. It is metabolizing. It consumes the obscure, the forgotten, the irrelevant. That knowledge becomes its physical substance. Its power is inversely proportional to the cultural significance of its fuel." PAGE 5 PANEL 1 A tremor runs through the bunker. Fine dust sifts from the ceiling. From the corner of the room, where a stack of old, forgotten technical manuals sits, a shadow deepens. The air itself seems to warp, pulling light and sound into a silent, hungry point. NATE (whispering): "It's here. It's actually here." PANEL 2 And then, it steps out. NOPHONO. Nearly eight feet tall, its physique a grotesque mirror of Gigachad's own powerful frame, but devoid of any warmth or life. Its skin is a dull, concrete grey. It wears the suit—a garish, electric blue abomination that is too tight in the shoulders and too short in the sleeves, made of a synthetic material that seems to absorb light. But the face. Where there should be a chiseled jaw and features, there is only a smooth, uninterrupted plane of flesh. No eyes to threaten. No mouth to scream. A void of expression, a perfect mask of absolute, silent indifference. PANEL 3 It does not look at them. It turns its blank head towards the stack of manuals. One of its hands, long-fingered and grey, rises. From its fingertips, long, shadowy tendrils—not of darkness, but of nothingness—unspool and caress the books. The pages don't rustle; they dissolve into streams of raw data, which are siphoned up the tendrils and into the entity's form. As it feeds, a faint, static-like aura crackles around its shoulders, and it seems to stand just a little bit taller, its presence a fraction more solid. GIGACHAD (voice a low, serious hum): "It is not here to fight us. We are irrelevant. It is here to read our footnotes." PANEL 4 Chud doesn't hesitate. He lunges, his fist clad in psychic energy, aiming a blow that could shatter titanium. The punch connects with Nophono's chest. There is no sound of impact. No grunt of pain. Chud's fist simply... stops. The energy around it flares and dies, its power seemingly unraveled, its principles forgotten. It is like punching a black hole made of pure, concentrated pedantry. Nophono does not react. It finishes consuming the manuals and its blank head slowly turns towards Nate's primary server rack. PANEL 5 Chud shakes his stinging hand, a look of pure, incandescent rage on his face. CHUD: "What is this?! How do you fight something that doesn't care that you're fighting it?!" GIGACHAD: "You cannot punch a library into not existing. You can only burn the books. We must find its core—the central thesis of its being in this dimension—and introduce a logical paradox. A piece of information so profoundly, universally significant that its very presence in Nophono's database would cause a catastrophic system error." PANEL 6 Nate's eyes widen, a spark of understanding amidst the terror. NATE: "We need to make it care about something everyone cares about. But how? It filters that out!" GIGACHAD: "We must bait it. We must create a piece of information that appears, on the surface, to be the most obscure, useless data imaginable. But buried deep within its code must be a memetic virus—a concept of such raw, undeniable, mainstream truth that it cannot be processed without causing a cascade failure." Chud looks from the advancing, silent horror to Nate's determined face. The fate of everything now hinges on the most absurd mission imaginable. CHUD: "So let me get this straight. To save the world... we have to write the most boring, obscure book in history... and hide a philosophical bomb in it." GIGACHAD (sharp nod): "Precisely. We must author the one thing that can destroy it. We must write 'Shit Everybody Cares About'... and make it look like shit nobody cares about." PAGE 6 PANEL 1 Nophono has finished with the server rack. The machines are now inert husks, their data utterly consumed. The entity turns its blank, horrifying face towards the trio. It has harvested all the readily available obscurity. Now, it seeks the source. Them. It takes another step, its movement unnervingly smooth yet utterly wrong, as if it were being animated by stop-motion. GIGACHAD: "It has finished its aperitif. It is ready for the main course. Our minds." PANEL 2 Gigachad moves first—a golden blur of optimized motion. He doesn't throw a punch; he delivers a perfectly calibrated, open-palm strike aimed to disrupt cellular cohesion, a blow that has felled lesser Viltrumites. Nophono's hand—its long, grey fingers—moves faster than sight. It doesn't block the strike; it catches Gigachad's wrist. PANEL 3 The moment it makes contact, shadowy tendrils of nothingness erupt from its palm, wrapping around Gigachad's arm. There is no crushing force. Instead, the golden sheen of Gigachad's skin flickers and dies where the tendrils touch. The very concept of his "optimized biology" is seemingly negated by a force that finds the principles of life to be tediously mainstream. Gigachad grunts—a sound of genuine shock and pain—and is hurled across the room like a discarded toy, smashing through the reinforced concrete wall. PANEL 4 CHUD: "Fine. Let's try this again!" Chud roars, unleashing a full-powered blast of his Aryan psychic energy. It is a wave of pure, white-hot ideological certainty, designed to shatter minds and break wills. It washes over Nophono. And does nothing. The entity's blank face doesn't twitch. It simply absorbs the psychic blast, the complex, hate-fueled ideology unraveling into meaningless static against its profound indifference. To Nophono, Chud's entire worldview is just another boring, well-documented historical footnote. A pop-up book for simpletons. PANEL 5 Nophono moves to attack. It doesn't lunge. It simply appears in front of Chud, having closed the distance in the space between heartbeats. Thragg-level fast, but without the rage. A motion of pure, efficient consumption. A tendril of nothingness lashes out—not at Chud's body, but at his head. Chud barely dodges. The tendril grazes his temple. Instantly, a searing, psychic cold floods him. It isn't pain; it is erasure. He feels memories—the specific taste of his mother's cooking, the face of his first childhood friend—become fuzzy, distant, and then simply... gone. Deleted from his mind as irrelevant data. Nophono isn't trying to kill him; it is trying to format him. PANEL 6 Chud screams—this time in pure terror—and stumbles back, clutching his head. CHUD: "It's... erasing me..." From the hole in the wall, Gigachad returns. His usual serene expression is replaced by a grimace. His right arm is grey and lifeless, as if all the "Giga" had been drained from it. GIGACHAD: "Its power is ontological! It does not break things; it defines them as irrelevant, and they cease to function! We cannot overpower it with force!" PAGE 7 PANEL 1 Nophono turns its attention to Nate, who is frantically trying to compile the memetic virus. A tendril shoots towards the console. Gigachad intercepts it, taking the blow on his chest. He cries out as the vibrant color of his skin desaturates, his magnificent physique dimming, as if he were being converted from a high-definition image into a grainy, forgotten photograph. NATE (shouting): "ALMOST THERE! I NEED SECONDS!" PANEL 2 Chud, desperate, does the only thing he can think of. He reaches for the one weapon Nophono might not be able to instantly process: raw, chaotic, emotional stupidity. He isn't trying to win. He is trying to distract. He charges—not with a psychic blade, but with his voice. CHUD (screaming): "YOUR SUIT LOOKS LIKE IT WAS BOUGHT FROM A WISH.COM FIRE SALE! YOU'RE A SKINWALKER OF A GIGACHAD! YOU'RE CRINGE! YOU'RE NOT EVEN A PROPER VILLAIN, YOU'RE A GLORIFIED LIBRARIAN! L + RATIO + NO BITCHES + YOU FELL OFF!" PANEL 3 For the first time, Nophono pauses. Its head tilts a fraction of a degree. The torrent of meaningless, hyper-mainstream insults is like a jarring, off-key note in its symphony of silence. It is data so profoundly lacking in value, so utterly without obscure merit, that it briefly confuses the entity's consumption protocols. A DDoS attack made of pure, concentrated normie energy. It is only a second. A single, precious second of hesitation. But it is enough. NATE: "IT'S READY! THE BAIT IS SET!" PANEL 4 A new file flashes on Nate's screen: "yugobus_lamin_standards_final_final(1).txt" Nophono's head snaps towards it. Its blank visage radiates a palpable hunger. This is a prime specimen—a feast of pure, unadulterated obscurity. It glides past the recovering Gigachad and the shouting Chud, its focus absolute. A shadowy tendril, humming with anticipatory silence, extends and makes contact with the server. PANEL 5 The moment Nophono begins to consume the file, it freezes. Its smooth, blank face remains unchanged, but its entire body emits a low-frequency wobble—a visible distortion in the air like a corrupted video file. The garish blue suit flickers erratically. The memetic virus is working. It has bitten into the bait and hit the philosophical poison pill hidden within: the universal, undeniable, and profoundly mainstream concept of "A MOTHER'S LOVE." For Nophono, this is a cognitive singularity. An obscurity that contains the least obscure thing in the universe is a logical paradox it cannot process. PANEL 6 A sound emerges from it for the first time—not a voice, but a high-pitched, tearing static shriek. The sound of a universe of filing cabinets collapsing at once. GIGACHAD (shouting over the din): "The paradox! It has made him tangible! His ontological defense is down! NOW!" PAGE 8 PANEL 1 The entity is now physically vulnerable. Its power to define things as irrelevant is momentarily short-circuited. But it is not weak. It is a cornered, furious beast of pure data. It whirls around, no longer a passive consumer but an active, violent threat. A tendril catches Chud across the chest. This time, it doesn't erase memories; it rips through his suit and flesh, drawing actual, physical blood. The force is immense, throwing Chud back with a grunt of pain. PANEL 2 Another tendril shoots towards Gigachad, who meets it with a clenched, now-revitalized fist. The impact is thunderous—a concussive blast of force that shatters the remaining consoles. Gigachad skids back, his knuckles bleeding. The entity is still as physically powerful as Thragg, its strength undiminished, only its invulnerable nature compromised. PANEL 3 It becomes a brutal, desperate brawl. Chud and Gigachad fight in tandem, landing blows that crack Nophono's grey skin. Their attacks finally have purchase. But Nophono fights back with silent, ferocious strength—tendrils striking with the force of tectonic plates, movements a blur of blue suit and grey flesh. They are hurting it, but they cannot put it down. And with every passing second, the static shriek decreases in pitch. The paradox is stabilizing. Nophono is adapting, slowly purging the offensive, mainstream concept from its system. The tangible solidity of its form begins to waver, its edges blurring back into untouchable abstraction. PANEL 4 GIGACHAD (strained, blocking a blow that numbs his arm): "The corruption fades! Its ontological defense is returning! We are losing our window!" CHUD (ducking under a tendril that dissolves the wall behind him): "It's a librarian! It wants to file us away! So we give it a filing error it can't recover from!" Understanding flashes between them. PANEL 5 Chud focuses his psychic power—not as a weapon, but as a jamming signal. He doesn't attack Nophono's body; he attacks its process. He projects a single, brutally simple, and universally resonant image directly at the entity: the face of his own mother, imbued with the raw, uncomplicated emotion of a child's love. It is the most potent strain of the "shit everybody cares about" virus, delivered psychically. PANEL 6 Nophono, still grappling with the logical poison in its system, seizes up. Its blank face, for the first time, seems to strain. The flickering of its suit becomes a violent, strobing seizure of colors. The simple, powerful, and utterly mainstream concept is a catastrophic system error—a paradox that locks its cognitive functions. It is vulnerable. Not just physically. Conceptually paralyzed. GIGACHAD: "ITS PROCESSING IS LOCKED! NOW! WE CONTAIN IT!" PAGE 9 PANEL 1 Gigachad moves with ultimate purpose. He doesn't try to punch or kick. He uses his immense strength for precise, brutal utility. He rips a massive, reinforced server cabinet from its moorings—the metal screaming in protest. As Nophono stands frozen, shuddering from the psychic assault, Gigachad slams the heavy metal cabinet down over the entity like a bell jar, trapping it inside. CHUD: "It's not enough! It'll break out!" GIGACHAD: "It is a temporary solution. Nate! The data!" PANEL 2 Nate, understanding instantly, reroutes all remaining power. Instead of projecting the memetic virus, he begins a system-wide purge. He uses high-intensity magnetic scramblers and data-wiping algorithms to erase every single byte of obscure data in the bunker—every forgotten log, every corrupted file, every piece of "shit nobody cares about" that had drawn Nophono here. PANEL 3 The trapped entity thrashes inside its metal prison. The sound is a furious, silent vibration—a pressure that makes teeth ache and ears ring. A dent bulges outward in the cabinet's side. Then another. Gigachad holds it fast, his muscles corded with effort, his feet digging grooves into the concrete floor. PANEL 4 But with its source of power—the ambient obscurity—being systematically erased from the local environment, Nophono's strength begins to wane. It is a predator being starved. The thrashing slows. The dents stop coming. The cabinet's sides cool. Finally, with a last, weak tremor, the movement stops. The oppressive, silent pressure in the room lifts. PANEL 5 Gigachad cautiously lifts the cabinet. The space beneath is empty. Starved of data and locked in a paradoxical loop, Nophono's physical form has simply... derezzed. Faded back into the static from which it came, no longer able to maintain its coherence in a place that is, for the moment, cleansed of its sustenance. PANEL 6 Chud slumps against a wall, exhausted. Gigachad stands over the empty spot, his breathing heavy. Nate leans back in his chair, hands shaking. NATE: "Did we... kill it?" GIGACHAD: "No. We forced a 'force quit' on its consciousness. As long as forgotten data exists anywhere in the world, Nophono is just a bookmark away. We won a battle—not by destroying the monster, but by cleaning our room well enough that it lost interest and left." PAGE 10 PANEL 1 Chud pushes off from the wall. He walks to the console, staring at the now-blank screens. CHUD: "What about the data? The Lawnmower Man files? The global elite intel?" Nate pulls up a diagnostic. He scrolls, brow furrowed, then his expression shifts to surprise—and relief. NATE: "That's the thing. Nophono only ate the garbage. The obsolete backups. The corrupted sectors. The irrelevant metadata. The actual intelligence—the bank records, the blackmail, the contingency plans—it's all still here." PANEL 2 Chud looks at him. A rare moment of something like hope crosses his features. CHUD: "So all it did was delete the clutter?" NATE: "Essentially. The files are cleaner now. Easier to review. It's like... it pre-sorted our evidence for us." PANEL 3 Gigachad approaches. The color is slowly returning to his arm, the grey fading back to gold. He looks at the console, then at Chud. GIGACHAD: "The obscure one fed on your digital rot. What remains is the meat. You have lost nothing of value." CHUD: "And gained time." GIGACHAD: "And gained time." PANEL 4 Chud turns to Nate. CHUD: "Start reviewing the cleaned files. Focus on anything related to Majestic-12's defense protocols. If we're going to take the Pentagon, we need to know how they'll fight back." NATE (already typing): "On it." PANEL 5 Chud walks to the hole in the wall—the one Gigachad made when he was thrown. He looks out at the night. Somewhere out there, Nophono is reforming, feeding on forgotten things in other places. But not here. Not tonight. GIGACHAD (joining him): "You fought well. For someone who is not Giga." CHUD: "I had help." GIGACHAD: "Da. You did." PANEL 6 A moment of silence between them. Then: CHUD: "Will it come back?" GIGACHAD: "Eventually. When the clutter accumulates again. When you forget to delete your forgotten things. But now you know how to fight it. You know that the best weapon against the one who cares about nothing... is to care about everything. Loudly. Unironically. Normie-ly." Chud almost smiles. CHUD: "That's the stupidest battle strategy I've ever heard." GIGACHAD: "Stupid. But effective." PAGE 11 – EPILOGUE PANEL 1 INT. ABANDONED GDA FACILITY – HOURS LATER The bunker is quiet. The servers are dead, their data wiped. Nate has set up a portable terminal, working by the light of a single lamp. Chud sits across from him, reviewing printouts. NATE: "You know what's funny?" CHUD (not looking up): "What?" NATE: "Lawnmower Man spent years collecting that data. Cob Gang died for it. And in the end, the thing that almost killed us was the digital equivalent of... pocket lint." PANEL 2 Chud sets down the printout. CHUD: "The devil is in the details. And sometimes the details are just... trash." NATE: "So what now?" CHUD: "We keep building. Moonman's ready to move. The network is growing. And now we have clean intel on the globalists' weaknesses."