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Err, hi, evil consortium of depraved-dictator-type guys?.....

You awake to the surprise of finding a concerned looking Joseph Goebbels gently, though certainly ill-advisedly, smoothing Body Shop apricot scented lip balm into your blackened and still smouldering proboscis.

"You see", he explains while absent-mindedly swinging his club foot back and forth like a golfer practicing his swing, "this is the afterlife for evil figures from history, and people who die while dressed as wild animals, (although there aren't so many of the latter these days). We are here to dedicate our time to irrelevant tasks as a punishment for our crimes on Earth."

You bring yourself to look at your new surroundings for the first time. Over the left shoulder of your seemingly reformed caregiver, Napoleon is hunched over a concrete swan, carving a feathery pattern into its neck with a large piece of flint.

"Once we have you patched up you'll be put to work alongside Rasputin, the mad Russian monk", continues JG.


Written by burns (edited by wanderer)

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