You were right, bröther. (There's a sudden tightness in your lower intestine.)

You were right, bröther. (There's a sudden tightness in your lower intestine.)

What? What's going on?

Back there, in your sleep. All the weak-willed delinquents, dilly-dalliers, foreign moneylenders, insane anarchists, and yes -- the wöömen -- they've run this place to ruin.

Those sons of bitches...

The game was rigged from before you even knew how the pieces move, söldier. (The tightness spreads to your gut.)

I do feel like everything's gone to shit...

It has, bröther, but we are going to turn back time! (A solemn gurgle emanates from your stomach.)

I will send you back to the time when the sun had not yet vanished, when it was still setting into the sea. The time of the Suzerain, the time when love was still possible.

I like it just fine right here, right now. [Discard thought.]

I'm not sure if I'm feeling it.

But just imagine... to go back with the knowledge and the experience you now have and do it all over. Do it richtig this time?

Protect the Suzerainty, clean up the city, revive disco music, and get her back? You could save Revachol. You could be the man, bröther.

Her?

No one, don't ask about her.

Okay, how do we do this?

There must be others like you. Men, who long for the days when words like 'loyalty' and 'love' meant something.

Love is shit, loyalty is meaningless.

People whose yearning for the past is so great they barely live in the present. Those are the men you need to find. Those are the guys who'd know.

So how do I find these men?

Think. Maybe you've already met someone like that?

No one comes to mind.

That's a good number of traditionalists. It's ample. Let's go see what they know.

You know, I think I'm just gonna let this one slide. [Opt out.]

Sure. Revachol will do just fine without you. Don't worry about her.

Alright, I'm in. [Opt in.]

History will remember us, and this time we don't have to worry about her being kind. Praeterita redire, kingsman. Charge for Revachol, charge for love!

Four is a good number of traditionalists. It's plenty. Let's go see what they know.

Okay, don't worry -- that's what your gut is for, feeling these things out. Let me be your eyes and when I know for sure someone's got that special something, I'll tip you off.

Three 'traditionalists' should be enough. No need to overdo it.

Three to four 'traditionalists' should do it. No need to go crazy with those guys.

Gary would probably appreciate Old Revachol.

Oh yes. (Your lower intestine rumbles approvingly.) Gary is exactly the kind of guy we want. He knows something! Who else?

I got a feeling Measurehead fits that description.

Now there is man who values the past with passion. And you know how the saying goes: He who clings to the past, shapes the future.

That is not a saying. It makes no sense.

Measurehead is exactly the kind of man who'd know how to step back into the past.

No one else comes to mind.

That grey-haired lorry driver might know something.

No, not her. She's a woman. Anyone else?

The fat lorryman was giving off that longing vibe.

Bullseye! (A reassuring rumble in your guts.) And that's the vibe we're looking for. Those are the people with answers.

And by 'longing' you meant 'blatantly racist', right?

They're still all men, of course.

No one misses the good old days like René.

Now we're making bank! A man with guts and a memory. I felt it too. He could be a treasure trove of wisdom. Who else?

René really missed the good old days. Too bad he's dead.

Yeah, that was a good one -- a treasure trove of wisdom -- but don't worry, there must be others.

Wait, one of them could easily be a woman.

Don't be ridiculous. They are all men, trust me.

Wait, couldn't one of them be a girl?

Wait, get who back?

You fool!

Second chances are not about questions, they are about actions. Are you ready to start taking action, bröther?

Ultramarathon here meant Revachol. Our streets and all that. It's all there is. Just move on and answer the question.

Yeah... I think I'm gonna let this one slide.

You want to give up on redemption? Revanche? On Revachol?! I had you for a kingsman, bröther.

A chill runs down your spine when you hear the name of your light -- Revachol...

You had me wrong. [Opt out.]

Well, if it's for Revachol... (Continue.)

Even if it was possible, what would it accomplish?