Now that we're done with the eighth representation of our lows as Dillington High students, we move on to the ninth.
In this holographic room beyond the ninth portal…
We are confronted with a threatening cyborg.
What is even more threatening… is its armor.
It's an amalgamation of all those test papers where we suffered below-than-satisfactory results.
Not even Rosalind.
Not even the so-called top ten on the honor roll.
No one in our class was spared by the blot on an honor student's record, that was… the dreaded "F".
I react accordingly...
"Crap! A representation of those hair-tearing, brain-boggling, soul-sucking exams?! That's worse than death and taxes!"
The cyborg just doesn't flinch as he brings out his trademark shotgun and quickly opens fire at us.
We're gonna fight back, you poor Arnold Schwarzenegger cyborg copy!
