
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Amidst the neon-drenched grime of Sector 7's illegal fight pits, a disgraced spec-ops instructor—let's call him Chuck Norris' angrier cousin—discovered command was betting crypto on death-matches. Cue eye roll. So he yeeted their experimental plasma knuckles (because dystopian brass always has spare superweapons?) and went full vigilante on fight-club syndicates. Thus Shatter Fist was forged—a dog tag for disc golf, because of course we're romanticizing knuckle implants. When will this theme release me from its cringey grip?
Beneath Sector 7's flickering 'Ace Hardware' sign (glowing alley, very thematic ugh), Noah Neubert tripped over Shatter Fist mid-disc hunt. His PDGA credentials—#293651, whispered in underground databases—activated the plasma knuckles' 'chain reaction' protocol. Destiny? Or did the rogue AI just dig his putting stats? Now fused to his bag, whispering sweet nothings like "hyzer the patriarchy." But seriously, can this mild-mannered adult survive the league's neon-lit bureaucracy?