Bitterness flows through my veins like a cold river.  My grandson, Mac, was such a good boy.  A mere 14 years old.  When the army was sent off to the front, Mac took up arms to defend the city.  He was a guard in The Stockade, where the Defias gang is locked up.  Mac reprimanded some of the prisoners for tearing their wool blankets to make scarves, a symbol of their gang.  For that Mac was stabbed in the back.$b$bI want revenge.  Bring me 10 of their precious Wool Bandanas.  They are the color of blood.