<
LOCATION: MIRIM GOLF CLUB, 5th HOLE
CITY: LAKE TAESONG, NORTH KOREA
DATE: APRIL 17, 2026 | TIME: 1000 HOURS
The Supreme Leader worked his way around the 18 hole 72-par course.
As usual, he was well under par for the first three holes.
Just like his father, who famously bragged of finishing the course 35 under par, the current Supreme Leader was a golf prodigy.
So what if he refused to count certain strokes and took liberal mulligans. He was the Supreme Leader. By definition, his golf game was perfect.
It was standard practice for his caddy to bring four full boxes of balls for a round of golf with the Leader.
Most of the time, it was enough.
Two days after that glorious Day of the Sun, the North Korean dictator was proud.
He knew they'd try to get him to go underground later. To hide out like a dog.
It wasn't going to happen.
He was protected by the heavens themselves.
He'd gotten the reports from the east coast. The Americans destroyed a mostly civilian airfield, a few submarines, and a few ships in the harbor.
Whatever. The Chinese would give him funds to rebuild it all, and even better.
He did lose some men. But who cares?
Eight hundred men? Or was it nine hundred?
Really. Who cares?
Fewer mouths to feed.
He finished up the fourth hole in three strokes.
He looked out over the ocean.
Breathed in the fresh air.
As one of his aides drove the golf cart to the fifth hole, his thoughts went back to the strike on the American carrier.
We killed 5,000 of their men and destroyed the most expensive ship they ever built, and all they could manage was a few flaccid missile strikes on the east coast?
I knew they were weak…
Those were among the last thoughts that went through the Supreme Leader's mind.
Back in the woods, two hundred feet behind the tee box, Vanessa very slowly raised herself to one knee.
As long as her movements were deliberate enough, her camouflage spell would not break.
She'd placed her Mark of the Huntress on the dictator the moment he got out of the golf cart.
That kept her movements stealthier, thanks to Predator's Calm. Her cloak, Stalker's Mantle, made by the leatherworkers in Grimwatch from the hides of Chromatic Lurkers she'd slain in Allovia, kept her active camouflage at maximum effect. Lastly, her spectral arrows were invisible to all but her.
As the dictator stood at the tees, glancing out over the fifth hole, he smiled.
It was at that instant that a sudden hole tore open in his neck. Blood began spewing forth from the jugular.
He raised his hand to the wound, looking around.
It was impossible. He was protected by the heavens themselves.
Who would even dare?
Another hole erupted in his chest.
He turned back toward the treeline and saw her.
A Korean woman held a bow.
She aimed it at him.
He turned to yell at his security detail, who were just watching.
A split second later, the side of his head exploded into a burst of blood and brain matter.
And it was over.
The Supreme Leader of North Korea, mandated by the heavens themselves, third to hold the title, collapsed to the grass, blood pooling around three wounds.
Grim and his team emerged from the trees and began walking toward the tee box, assault rifles raised in firing position.
The dictator's security team, the assembled generals, admirals and military aides, twenty-two in number, all knelt down with their hands behind their heads.
None were armed.
The golf club had rules. Weapons weren't allowed. Not even for the Supreme Leader's entourage.
Ironically, one of the few rules the Leader allowed to apply to himself.
Grim and Brick stood with their rifles pointed at the group while Aria, Sienna, Nina and Vanessa zip tied everyone's hands behind their backs.
In the space of ten minutes, the entire trajectory of a country changed.
Grim had intel on the North Korea leadership structure. All of the top brass from the military were here. Deciding that, in a military state, this was as good a place to begin as any, he addressed the seven men.
"How many of you are in favor of reunification?" Grim asked.
They glanced at each other, none brave enough to answer.
Grim reached down and grabbed the highest ranking general's shirt, pulling him up to Grim's level.
Grim met the man's gaze, inches away.
The general looked at the others, but Grim redirected his attention back.
"Answer me," he said.
"We… we are all in favor of it," he said. "Our Dear Lea—"
"He is no longer a factor in your decision making, General Cho. Now, tell me you have a contingency plan."
For the next several minutes, they outlined the rough shape of a plan that nobody had dared to write down.
It would involve an international coalition including China, South Korea, Japan, and Russia. Although with the US having liberated them, they were definitely open to having the US take a seat at the table as well.
Might be contentious at times, but still more likely to remain a peaceful process that way.
"Next up," Grim said, "who knows where the nuclear arsenal is located? We need to ensure no rogue operatives can get to it."
General Cho tried to raise his hand, but remembered he was still zip tied.
Aria cut Cho's restraints when Grim and Brick nodded.
"We will all come peacefully," Cho said. "There is no need for restraints at this point."
Vanessa had been standing behind the group and watching them carefully.
"All but these two," she said, pointing to two of the larger men.
At that instant, one of them broke free and lunged toward Vanessa.
She moved faster than any of them had ever seen, and before they could even register what had happened, the man was bleeding out on the ground, his throat cut wide open.
Vanessa sheathed her dagger. The second man slumped back down, his head bowed in surrender.
Grim sent System messages to both Li Wei and Nathan Rourke.
---
Tango down.
Regime change imminent.
Could use some help securing nuclear stockpile.
---
<
LOCATION: WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM
CITY: WASHINGTON, DC
DATE: APRIL 16, 2026 | TIME: 11:00 PM
Back in the White House Situation Room, Nathan Rourke saw the message from Grim, and suddenly let loose a loud "Fuck yeah!" while pumping his fist.
President Trent and everyone else in the room looked over at him.
Fortunately, he'd been holding his mobile phone in his hand, so he made a show of closing the screen and setting it down.
"Mr. President," Nathan said, "I'm proud to report that the dictator from North Korea is dead, and Grim's team is working with the military leadership on a transition."
"And the nukes?" Jonathan Keaton asked.
"They're working on that now," Rourke replied.
A round of applause filled the room.
President Trent leaned back in his chair, and the room fell silent again.
"Please tell me they made that fucker suffer."
<
LOCATION: MINISTRY OF STATE SECURITY, SECTION 17
CITY: BEIJING, CHINA
DATE: APRIL 17, 2026 | TIME: 12:00 PM
Li Wei was thumbing absentmindedly through the pile of reports on his desk when Grim's message came in.
Li leaned back in his chair and exhaled.
He called in his two deputies and had them shut the door.
"Grim did it," Li said.
"Sir?"
"He really did it," Li said. "They took down the fat little tyrant, and probably narrowly avoided World War III in the meantime."
The two deputies looked pleased with the news.
"Call your wives," Li said. "We've got a lot of work to do, and none of us are going home any time soon. Grab some lunch if you need it. Be back here in a half hour, ready to work. I'll have your assignments ready then."
The past three days for Li had gone by in a blur.
After getting the high level details from Zhou Ren, Li had begun tracking down who inside his own government thought it was a good idea to taunt the new American president by slaughtering five thousand soldiers.
He found a surprisingly large group. But at least they were kind enough to meet in an offsite facility with minimal security.
Li found the location. His deputies wanted to go with him, but Li refused the help.
He didn't wear his armor, but carried his Jian straight sword. Li left the scabbard in the car. He knew that once he entered, there would be no need for it.
They were holed up at a retreat two hours outside of Beijing.
It was the night of the 15th, the day of the strike on the USS Ford.
Li pulled the car into the driveway and parked at an angle blocking the gate so nobody could escape.
He stepped out, sword in hand, and two security guards at the front tried stopping him.
One raised his hand.
"Minister, this is a closed meet—"
A swipe of his sword, and the man's hand flew off at an odd angle.
The guard on the right grabbed his wrist with his other hand, while the one on the left raised his radio to call for backup.
His hand also landed a few feet away.
Blood covered Li's suit now, and the guards were on their knees screaming out in pain.
"Silence!" Li said as he removed their heads from their bodies with a single sideways slash.
The only sound he heard after that was the thuds as the heads hit the concrete porch, and the faint hissing as their hearts pumped that last few pints of blood left onto the ground.
The scent of copper filled his nose, and Li exhales, clearing his lungs. He wiped his face with a handkerchief and slashed his weapon to remove the viscera from it, before entering the large home.
The place they'd rented for their offsite meeting was so large that even with all the screaming from the guards, nobody had been alerted to Li's presence.
It didn't matter. They'd all go down anyway.
As he entered, a staff of six in the kitchen were preparing a late night meal. They shouted when they saw Li, covered head to toe in blood.
He put his finger to his lips and indicated the front door.
They didn't need to be told twice. And although this vision would surely haunt them all for a long time to come, not a single one of them had any intention of reporting this. Lest the demon with the sword come find them.
Li continued through the house, and found the conference being held in a massive dining room toward the back of the house.
There were twelve of them. The Ministers of Public Security and National Defense, the Chief of the General Staff and the Navy Commander, along with their deputies. And then there was Li's direct boss, the Minister of State Security.
Li Wei entered the room, and all eyes raised toward him at once.
"What the fuck is this?" the General yelled, standing and drawing his sidearm.
"Li? What the hell happened to you?" his boss asked.
A rock formed in Li's left hand and he threw it so fast that nobody saw it coming. It stuck the General in his right hand, causing him to drop his weapon.
The pistol clattered to the floor at the man's feet. He didn't dare bend over to pick it up.
"What makes you think you twelve insignificant dimwits can sit in a dark room and plot World War III?" Li asked.
The man to his right reached for his own pistol, and with a blindingly fast swipe of Li's sword, the man's arm hit the floor.
More blood spewed onto Li as the man screamed.
"Silence!" he said again, removing the man's head with a second swipe of his blade.
Li spent the next three hours gleaning every small detail on the group's plans. At the end of the night, Li left nobody alive.
The kind of instability they were planning wasn't only bad for world peace. It was insidious.
They had planned a sweeping change in the world order. With America seemingly weakened on the global stage, they would rapidly deploy troops to take over Taiwan.
Then, with the help of their allies in Pyongyang, they had planned to expand China's empire to swallow South Korea and Japan.
In ancient times, China was known as The Middle Kingdom. Leaders from all over Greater Asia would come to bow down to China's superiority.
This group of twelve wanted to bring back The Middle Kingdom. Not for the obeisance, but for the resources.
As usual, it always came down to money. And the moves these men had been making behind the scenes to consolidate power within China would ensure they became the richest men on the planet overnight.
Their plan failed.
After he was done, Li called in a cleanup crew and a fresh change of clothes.
When he returned home at 10am on the 16th, his wife Mei Lin noticed that he wore a different suit then the one he'd left in the prior morning.
But she'd seen the news. She knew her husband would have taken such overt horror on the world stage personally.
She didn't even ask where he'd been. She just made him a cup of tea and sat quietly with him as he stared into space.
When he finished with the tea, he stood, gave her a kiss, and told her he'd be back as soon as he could.