“Hi all, real life's been crazy and I haven't done a video for awhile, but here's one. A video that is, and it's on Commandment of Hero. What's been going on? Not much. I didn't get Lynissia, and that was disappointing. But then I thought about it, and what would I do with her? My current teams, uh, I'm not running into problems as it is. In fact, they're almost . . . too strong? Remember how it is in the beginning of the game, when you're struggling, and figuring things out? I miss that.

“I thought about starting a new account, ftp only. The problem with that I realized is that I'd end up pulling for the same units and doing the same things. I've decided on a new project, not the details, but the idea is, I build up and use some of the less popular units and find out what they can really do. Maybe it's like Legendary War Chronicles where sometimes three-stars can be better than some five-stars. I'm not sure if I want to go as far as Eclipse Bats, but maybe a combination of two- and three-stars. Not sure who yet. You know, that one water buffer, Ippo? Ipons. He's been all over my start screen lately, and his kit doesn't look too bad, pretty solid really. Maybe I'll start with him, Enid, maybe make a water team to start. What do y'all think? Have you been successful with them, or other non-meta units? Drop me a comment, and phraze_bit out.”

“99 levels of Rare on the wall, 99 levels of Rare. Clear a wave, eat all the Wolves, 100 levels of Rare on the wall!” The Rares belonging to the 90+ contingent moseyed to the Public Service board in high spirits. Even the unfortunates condemned to dispatches could be confident they would reach the cap either later that day, or the next, or at most the one after. And then? Party time.

The usuals gathered around the bulletin board. Officers of every rarity except Common mingled without concern for rank or station. Everybody jostled and jeered at everybody else chosen to be shipped out without exception.

“Not it,” Clyse said.

“It. Hey! Stop jostling me!” said Dennet.

“It!” Vinnette Melban was drafted, and then Ulrik and Hyune Giling too, for one of those two Rares and an Ultra Rare compositions becoming more popular as industrious Vigilant Patrolling allowed a wider variety of officers to contribute a reasonable proportion of the 340 total levels demanded by auto-fill.

“SRs win again!” Local Fisher raised her rod in triumph and cantered off with hooting officers in her wake.

“We won too!” Tramda yelled after them. “I don't know what we won, but we did!”

“You won some leisure time. What are you going to do with it?” Luman skin resembling mahogany obsidian! Feather boas! A guitar! Ultra Rare Inferno Reaper Serdon Miloz tore the roof off and asked a question redolent of unrevealed significance.

“Vigilant Patrol! If there are enough of us.” Tramda looked left and right but mostly up. “Are there enough of us?”

“Sounds pretty good, but I have a different proposal. A little something different to liven up your day.” Serdon Miloz snapped and winked. “Want to try living the life of the golds and rainbows? My bandmates are all relieved of duty at once, for once, and that means a half court basketball tournament in Fanbaran. That is, it might, if you silvers take our place in the Concert Hall for the day. How about it? We'd owe you a favor for doing something no silver has gotten to do before.”

“Yeah! Sounds great! Let's do it, Clyse. C'mon!”

“I'd like to hear more about the boundaries of this favor first.” Clyse pried Tramda's hands from her yellow coat. “Oh well, why not? I'm not going to start being stubborn now.”

“What happens when the players catch us?” Saptres Muria asked.

Serdon draped a few of his boas over Saptres as he answered. “The players aren't going to catch you. They never look in there. I'm not trying to deceive a Strategist with false confidence; this is the real, genuine truth of it. Do you remember Wedding Singer Vritia? When she came out?”

“In June, as I recall,” Stan said.

“You recall right, and she's been out and about all day ever since. So who's been in the Concert Hall? A Vritia Umox cardboard cutout. For months.” He handed Saptres his guitar. “Strum this once a minute and you'll be fine. Be careful, because you might find out you've got a passion that won't go away as easy as it came.”

“I hope not.” Saptres saw Stan, Tramda, and Clyse eagerly accepting their instruments and smiled. “I'll do it, though.”

His trepidation remained but diminished when the new band entered the Concert Hall and realized an important fact.

“I don't believe I've been in here before, honest as coins,” Clyse said.

“Nor any janitor, I'd say,” Stan noted as he examined the dusty finger he had run over a seat back. “Watch your feet. Kick a chair and a Sectiger might jump out from under.”

“Oh yeah? Take this!” Tramda's foot encountered every seat along the aisle.

“Those must be modern drumming techniques. We can indulge in that sort of thing on stage.” Saptres Muria climbed the steps on the side and moved the Vritia Umox cutout behind the curtains. “Let us begin.”

Music filled the Concert Hall, an experimental form of music appreciated only by sophisticates who had heard too much good music to enjoy it. Saptres strummed now and then as instructed, Stan picked at his own guitar, Clyse's thumb bonked against the bass when she tried putting into practice something she had seen once, and Tramda assaulted the drums without remorse.

“It sounds so terrible,” Clyse said.

“I'll play worse still if you laugh harder when you complain next,” Stan promised as he plucked away.

“It's for the best. Suppose a player does come in. None will stay long enough to detect our imposture.” Saptres strummed again. “Would you?”