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Arizona sucks? Go to Hell.

A one way return to Mars. Back to Hell with you.

A throbbing headache the size of a rice grain. Harley's got a gun again.

Misfortune preys on the innocent. It's such a long way down.

No mercy, no honor, no humanity.

1989. Technicolor blood drains down the gutters. The pupil contracts.

2093. Your veins feel like gunfire. Prescription: .50 AE, .45 ACP, .50 BMG.

1989. The sun throbs a violent pink under your blown out pupils.

Mysterious artifacts and marbled stone. One tough thrillseeking Brit.

Seek and destroy. Leave no survivors.

Harley's got a gun.

New tricks. New tools. New expedition. Still the same british thrill-seeker.