Bring that swing and let’s see if its pulse syncs with mine. I’ll tweak it until it sings in rhythm—deadly moves look best when they’re part of the choreography. Swing, pulse, sync, we dance. Swing turns to shadow, pulse meets rhythm, death bows to the beat.

I hear you, but a single swing ain’t enough to break a rhythm. Step into the groove, feel the pulse, and we’ll make that heartbeat a dance. Let’s sync up and see whose step keeps the beat.