Ted shuffled the cards and pulled out the Mother of Worms.
He cursed.
He shuffled the cards again.
He pulled out the Mother of Worms.
He had no other options, he had to take out a feasible assortment of different outcomes and shuffle them as a smaller deck that would hopefully allow him to achieve something much, much better.
He kept on shuffling until his fingers started to feel sore again and he had to stop in order to pull out the Bloodhound, the card that he had intended as a symbol of the thrill of the hunt. He smirked.
He would hunt down that bastard of a scientist and that absolute hag, he would find them and make them talk. He had to know what had happened, but first, he had to get some food. Why was there no food anywhere? Why had his own people neglected to save a little something for him as well? This was not good at all.
