The Grudge

Eventually I regained the use of my faculties, by which time Grim and The Hand had worked things out. To say I was disappointed that my previous situation had not rewarded him, The Hand, with a delightfully creative death, was an understatement.
My fury brewed and stirred like…like I don’t know what! To put it plainly, I sulked whilst I sat, still in the same chair, bottom lip out (metaphorically speaking) and sulked. If I had a dummy I would of spat it out.
Pins and needles accompanied the return of my limb control. I wanted nothing more than to stamp on that fuckers face, you know, to shake the feeling out, on his face. I seethed behind my iron veneer.
Grim still held the shotgun, politely lay across his lap, of course, as they came to a diplomatic solution to ensuring that the Great War would happen as planned. Exciting times lay ahead.
The Hand’s first mission was to assinate an Austro-Hungarian fellow, whom I had not previously heard of: Archduke Franz Ferdinand.
They had their end covered. The Iron Mask, or we, would nudge the toffee nosed British government, when the time came, to commit to war against the Germanic influence. Looking back now, I regret not killing that bastard. Him with his stupid fucking gloves on! Honestly, fucking gloves! Ha! At least the Iron Mask creates anonymity.  What does a bloody glove do?
Don’t worry, he gets his comeuppance…

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About Henry Game

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