Here we go, the voidmasters of the magic of space, You better know your place when I drop bombs on yo face. Better make haste because I'm about to make a case, consisting of you and your worthless race. It's good you sacrificed yourself for your team but it's clearly a waste! I can taste the texture of your blood, t-bagging your corpse until you disintegrate making me t-bag the mud, Of your melted juicy mess, mixed with void, but nevertheless, I keep dropping you, you'd swear I'd take roids. Now let's talk about grenades, throw an axion bolt toward your face, making you run as if it has fûckin AIDS. Smother you with scatter grenades, making you splatter all over the place like my cum when your sister and I got laid! And let's not even talk about vortex grenades, I can make you dissappear so fast, nonexistant, I don't even need to be paid. Voidwalkers are the most balanced and master subclass, Don't run up on me unless you want me to handle your dumb ass!