Apparently sending us his image from a black-and-white Tron universe, his blurb continues with some pointless drivel about life to the fullest or something, but if any woman has read past this part she doesn't really care about his shallow philosophies. She's too busy laughing her enormous ass off. Next is a fellow who's apparently more cultured than West Virginia would suggest.
Vote for Pedro--oh, wait, I dissolved the representative government and crowned myself Emperor--never vote again! Ladies and gentlemen, it's Napoleon Firefight. The joke is, his hand's in his jacket, like Napoleon, and he's a firefighter. You know how Napoleon had his hand in his jacket in those old portraits? Nevermind, the joke was more tenuous than the life of a politician during the reign of the Directory. Hey-oh! Not funny? Fine. That's the last revolutionary-period French joke, I swear. This next guy, I hope he never sees this webpage or discovers where I live.
Apparently he wasn't even finished teleporting in from the Nightmare Zone when this picture was taken. His eyes are still aflame with the fires of the Blood Reaches, and he still wields his standard issue Nightmarine assault rifle. The mock turtleneck, however, he brought himself.
It seems Russia hasn't completely given up communism. Their bachelors seem to share a single look they all stole from Zoolander:
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