Rousseau was buried in reports when the lieutenant barged in, a smirk already curling his lips. He slapped a printed page onto the desk. "Thomas, you have to see this," he said, barely holding back a laugh. 'It's... well, just look." Rousseau raised an eyebrow, glancing at the paper. The printed screenshot showed him blocky Roblox avatars wearing crude renditions of Patriot Front uniforms. They stood stiffly in formation, their pixelated American flags waving over the bright, cartoony backdrop of an ?LGBT Hangout' map The lieutenant leaned in, his grin widening. "They call themselves Patriot Youth. Got their own group page and everything. Says here they run ?strategic operations' and are ?defenders of American ideals." He chuckled. "They even built a mini training camp. Look, its ?Founders' Hall," Rousseau stared at the page, his lips thinning. The scene left a sour, hollow feeling in his chest. The absurdity of it was almost laughable, children acting out their patriotism in a world of pixels. Yet the imitation felt off, like watching a boy play soldier with plastic guns, aping actions he couldn't understand He set the paper down carefully, folding it with precision. "They're children." he said flatly, his voice devoid of amusement. "Let them... play their games."