On this date in 1914, a nihilist outfit calling themselves The Black Hand got six patsies worked up into a anti-imperialist fervor and sicced them on a convenient target.
As is normally the case when you're dealing with amateurs, The Black Hand went for flashy -- with that name who'd have guessed? -- and gave each schmuck a bomb. Cyanide was also distributed, just in case.
Such high drama.
Anyhoo, about 10:15 in the morning of that fateful day, the target drove slowly and happily right past the first Noble Conspirator.
He ... um ... got caught up in the moment -- probably writing some really terrible poetry commemorating the moment -- forgot what he was doing, and kinda, sorta neglected to throw his bomb.
Never fear, this is why you have back-up ... except Noble Conspirator #2 was practicing his sneer or something -- and also forgot to throw his bomb.
#3 actually had his head in the game, and when the target came by, he hauled off and pitched his Kaboomite candy-gram.
Unfortunately, the timer was just a skoshy mis-set -- and he missed anyway. The bomb hit the back of the target's car, bounced off the cobblestones and rolled a bit before being driven over by the next car in the procession where it went off, putting the car out of commission and about 20 people in the hospital.
Being a thoroughly-trained Minion, #3 downed the cyanide pill, and -- just in case -- hurled himself into the river.
Pity the river was only four inches deep.
Even worse, #3 discovered one of the drawbacks about being used by overly-dramatic nihilists: the cyanide was either out-of-date, or there wasn't enough of it -- which afforded the irritated crowd the time and ability to drag his little anarchist arse out of the river and beat him like a drum before the police could rescue him.
The car containing the intended victim -- understandably -- took off like a striped-arse ape for safety, leaving the rest of the Noble Assassins scuffing their toes in the dust.
Unfortunately, the intended victim and his wife had a stiff dose of the noblesse oblige that infected a lot of folks of that social class at the time, and the victim over-rode his security types, demanding to go visit the hospital where the victims of the bomb meant for him were being treated.
Things went Charlie Foxtrot, security was doing one thing, no they were doing something else, Mr. Target wanted this done -- and no one updated the driver.
Because Murphy hates people -- personally -- the driver was forced to stop and turn Mr. Target's car around. In front of the cafe where one of the Noble Assassins -- Gavrilo Princep -- was getting comfort food to assuage his disappointment.
Recognizing the target, Princep lunged and fired two .32 ACP bullets from a Fabrique National M1910 into the open touring sedan, fatally injuring Archduke Franz Ferdinand Karl Ludwig Josef von Habsburg-Lothringen of Austria, Prince Royal of Hungary and Bohemia, heir presumptive to the Austro-Hungarian throne; and his wife, Her Highness Sophie, the Duchess of Hohenberg.
In a matter of weeks, citing the assassination as casus belli the Great War, the War To End All Wars, WW1 kicked off -- and 9.9 million young men died, 21.2 million were WIA, and another 7.7 million MIA.
Eight million wound up in POW camps before everything was said and done.
The map of the world forever changed -- as did the course of humanity as a whole -- on this day, 93 years ago.