Davros
Blue Grenade Lobber
Somewhere in London
Just outside a pub, filled with a suspicious amount of Americans, hint hint.
"Hey sir, Is there any specific reason those Hobos are following us." Dessler was glad his chatty underling had decided against practicing his English, though noticing the anger speaking German seemed to have, he wondered if it was Germany who had moved on unless... oh dear these were survivors. He briefly wondered why they had been left to cold, whispering duck to his companion. Spinning around on the spot he brought his pistol up from the holster at lightning speed. One of the slackers had a spade up in the air as if prepared to strike his subordinate.
"Gentlemen, I am sure just backing away now would be better in the long run, especially for any relatives you have." Dessler noticed how young most of them where. He had fought in the Great War and seen far too many men with eyes like the ones staring at him. "Why's a Jerry like you waltzing through 'ere!? We spent t' many bullets on you to see it all for nuthing." He bared his teeth like some kind of animal, though Dessler was glad there was no monster in it. "The war has been done for ten years, we have moved on after losing. Can you not do the same?" The man dropped his make shift weapon before spitting on the floor, shrugging to his colleagues and walking off.
"Sir, I know you said duck but....can I stand up now? My legs hurt." "......." "Sir? Why are you lifting your boot-oof AAAH WHY!" "YOU GOTT DAMN DUMMKOPF WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF THEY HIT YOU WITH THE SPADE HMM?" "You would have put them and me into hospital, not necessarily in that order." "NO TALKING BACK. IM BERATING YOU!"
Just outside a pub, filled with a suspicious amount of Americans, hint hint.
"Hey sir, Is there any specific reason those Hobos are following us." Dessler was glad his chatty underling had decided against practicing his English, though noticing the anger speaking German seemed to have, he wondered if it was Germany who had moved on unless... oh dear these were survivors. He briefly wondered why they had been left to cold, whispering duck to his companion. Spinning around on the spot he brought his pistol up from the holster at lightning speed. One of the slackers had a spade up in the air as if prepared to strike his subordinate.
"Gentlemen, I am sure just backing away now would be better in the long run, especially for any relatives you have." Dessler noticed how young most of them where. He had fought in the Great War and seen far too many men with eyes like the ones staring at him. "Why's a Jerry like you waltzing through 'ere!? We spent t' many bullets on you to see it all for nuthing." He bared his teeth like some kind of animal, though Dessler was glad there was no monster in it. "The war has been done for ten years, we have moved on after losing. Can you not do the same?" The man dropped his make shift weapon before spitting on the floor, shrugging to his colleagues and walking off.
"Sir, I know you said duck but....can I stand up now? My legs hurt." "......." "Sir? Why are you lifting your boot-oof AAAH WHY!" "YOU GOTT DAMN DUMMKOPF WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF THEY HIT YOU WITH THE SPADE HMM?" "You would have put them and me into hospital, not necessarily in that order." "NO TALKING BACK. IM BERATING YOU!"
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