I look upon them, and I am struck by wonder. All they do. All they endure. Not a single one asked for this life -- this second chance. And when they woke -- when the Light hit their eyes in that first instance upon their return -- they were welcomed into a broken world. Yet... They stand. Time and time again. Against odds insurmountable. In defiance of all who would see their end. Such determination. Such pride. Such fire. Love. Joy. Hope. Fear. Lust. Such powerful will. Strong enough to carve the promise of new tomorrows across the barren landscapes of yesterday. It inspires. From the smallest victory, to the grandest of conquests, I've seen it all... I have come to admire how you rally against the impossible. It's not your continual success that amuses me -- your Light assures victory -- it's your refusal to kneel. You fight and you die without a second thought. For what? Personal glory? Wealth? The wretched denizens of your refugee city? You have made bitter foes of races older, nobler, and worthier than you. You struggle so vainly and valiantly when you have so little. When you are so little. Everything this universe has thrown against you and still you persist. Thank you Guardians, The Last City