The air reeks of burnt algorithms and desperation. You’re crouched in the skeleton of what used to be a shopping mall—now a rebel stronghold tagged with graffiti that screams “EAT THE RICH, WEAR THE ASHES.” Fluorescent lights flicker like dying stars. Somewhere in the distance, a TikTok alarm blares. They’re coming. The Hype Legion, armed with ring lights and sponsored content, hunting stragglers who refuse to sell their souls to the scroll. You’ve got three bullets left in your Glock and a half-empty flask of whiskey that tastes like regret. But none of that matters. Because slung over your shoulder is the only weapon that’ll make them bleed fear.  
  
  
You unzip the tactical duffel. The fabric hisses like a snake. Inside: the MK I Military Green Tee, crumpled and battle-worn. Designed by Don Tonzo—the mad genius who vanished after dropping a manifesto that broke the internet. They say he stitched this tee in a bunker under Berlin, weaving barbed wire into the cotton. Bullshit. You know the truth. This thing’s made from 4.5 oz of Gildan 64000 cotton, pre-shrunk to survive acid rain and influencer meltdowns. The military-slim fit? Tailored for sprinting through firefights and scaling rubble. Double-stitched seams? Reinforced to outlive your enemies. And that olive-drab hue? Matches the smoke rising from the ruins of basic bitch culture.  
  
  
You slip it on. The fabric bites your skin like a loyal guard dog. Somewhere, Don Tonzo laughs. The Hype Legion kicks down the door, LED lights blinding. Their leader—a 19-year-old CEO with veneers sharper than your switchblade—sneers. “Cute fit. Last season.” You don’t blink. The tee’s collar grazes your jawline, the Tonzobeast logo glowing faintly under their artificial glare. “Last words?” you ask. They raise their iPhone. You raise hell.  
  
  
By dawn, the mall’s yours. The Hype Legion? Scattered like confetti at a billionaire’s funeral. You lean against a shattered storefront, bloodied but unbroken. The tee’s still pristine. Of course it is. Don Tonzo didn’t design it for photoshoots. He built it for survivors. For the ones who turn sidewalks into war zones and brunch into a bloodsport. The sunrise paints the sky the same olive drab as your armor. You light a cigarette off a burning “Live Laugh Love” sign. Game on.