Reformer watched from underneath his yurt as the rain hailed down from the heavens. Despite the world being so young, he had gathered a large and loyal following, men who were strong and stable and knew how to fight. He smiled at the image of his tribe, the Manchurians, riding across the steppes in glory, but for now he was content with what he had. The icy winds bellowed from the darkness, out where the torches could not breach. It's breath struck through the camp, reminding Reformer of the naked and lonely world beyond.

Suddenly, a horse breached the entrance of the camp, with a lone, gaily-dressed rider sat atop. Reformer stood aback in shock before quickly composing himself. How could anyone be sane enough to brave the steppes in the hailing night? Before he could call for guards to control him, he rode up to Reformer and dismounted, where he strode up to the chief and unveiled himself.

It was Mob, the lunatic that had plunged Japan into chaos.

Reformer had heard many terrible rumours about this person, but when Mob asked him to "Allow him the fuck out of the rain" he granted his wish, mostly out of curiosity for what the man had to say. Seeing Mob in front of him he couldn't help but notice a strange unmarked deformity about him, not being able to tell what was wrong, but grimacing at the vile evil that Mob displayed. The two men took their places on opposite sides of a spark-fuelled fire, with Mob grateful for the release from the torrent outside.

"You have quite the gall to come before me with your reputation" Began Reformer"

"My reputation!" echoed Mob, but a little hoarsely, "I have done nothing to warrant such a greeting!"

"Except turn half your people and the world against your regime"

"I was provoked, I had no other alternative. Besides, what I came here for was something completely unrelated to the recent events. I trust that you received the letter I wrote you?"

Reformer noted that this conversation had already taken off on the wrong foot, and did not wish to anger this man if possible. If his insanity was to be believed, then it would be best to uncover his motives before any decisions were made. Reformer therefore cautiously replied that he did, indeed, receive Mob's letter, but he didn't know what to make of it.

"Well then, Reformer, allow me to tell you everything I know." Mob said, a cracked grin forming on his face. "As you can tell, I am not ethnically descended from your people, or anyone in Asia. I only learnt how to speak the language brokenly recently. But when I learnt of your existence I knew I had to make the effort if I wanted to tell you this."

"Tell me what?" Replied Reformer. It seemed highly unnatural how Mob decided him of all people to make a connection with. Hell, he never even met the man before, what made him think he was his ally?

"That this world is doomed, Reformer". This was followed by a coarse laugh, leading to the Manchurian's unease. "Reformer, have you ever wondered why other men age so rapidly, but you never seem to take a dent?"

"No, and I've never really made anything of it. But now that you mention it, it does seem unnatural"

"Ah, but it isn't! It's the opposite! I'm not quite sure myself, but you were picked before you were even born, before this world was even born!"

"The world? What are you talking about?"

"I can't really say without telling you where I'm from. I was born on a small island, one with no name but with un-paralleled importance. I lived there with my friends, my brothers in faith, but one day we were forced off our homeland. We set off on a boat and were shipwrecked on a new land, a place we named Gateon Port-"

"Gateon Port?..." Reformer felt something quiver up his spine, something he never felt before.

"Do you remember that name, Reformer? I know that at least one of your alternate forms would. Anyway, I left that place. It was too depressing for me. I created my own land, one with laughter and fun, and named it Funland. We carved out an empire for ourselves, stretching across the entire east coast at one moment in time. But, in a cruel twist of fate, I was attacked by my own allies. Stabbed in the back" Mob's face become distorted as he relayed his message, his aura of deformity being made more pronounced by the evil expressed on his features. "They came all at once. There was Mallock, leading a mob of disorganised peasants against me, and Lurking who did very much the same. There was Lungora, high Khantuun of Mongolia, with her hordes and keshiks riding against me. Some retards from Vesperia I think were there as well. But worst of all was the Don, those that I held so dear to me joined with the invaders."

"And who was their leader?" Reformer began to realise he it was, but couldn't believe it. This story couldn't be true, it just couldn't.

"His name was Reformer"

"It surely must've been someone else, though? I don't even know you"

"You did then, Reformer. I died that day, plunging from the roof of my palace onto the rocks below. I don't blame you though, it was Mallock and Lurking who I hold with disgust. Before I died I managed to clone myself, to create me. I am that clone, Reformer. I set out to find a world more sane, one where I could conquer in peace. But when I came here, the fucking imbeciles in Japan broke me. I grew more and more insane living with them, and now they will pay"

"What- What's going to happen?"

"I'm going to destroy this world, Reformer" Grinned Mob. Almost as if it was timed by the insane man himself, a crackle of thunder rolled down the steppes that night, echoing Mob's inane laughter.