"We have to make sure that we choose the right people...it's literally the fate of the world that's at stake here," Frowned Ziva, looking immensely stressed out.
It was the next day, the 3rd of September, 2135, and Ziva had called me over to her office to help her pick who the nine champions that would be representing us were going to be.
"Even if we do lose this nine match competition, we'll still fight their army and try to repel the invasion, right?" I inquired, as I rocked back in my chair.
