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No. 1656
Sorry for the delay. I've been...distracted today.
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Suddenly, the Spy and Sniper jumped into action. In one swift movement, they'd drawn their revolver and bow and fired.
There were yells and starts across the table in shock, but they gradually died down when they realised that the shots had hit their targets.
The Medic slumped down from the chair, an arrow hitting between his eyes and snapping his glasses in two. With a brief shimmer, he turned into a RED Spy, blood streaming from the new wound.
The Soldier, a fresh bullet wound in his temple, fell face first onto the table. His blue fatigues became a red pinstripe suit as he laid there.
The Sniper and the Spy were now on their feet, walking over to their respective victims.
"Do you want to go first?" saíd the Spy casually, lighting a fresh cigarette.
"If ya don't mind." saíd the Sniper, drawing his kukri from his jacket and poking the RED Spy on the floor in front of him.
"Gave 'imself away, the dumb git." he muttered. "First off, everything he said he could've learnt from what you lot'd told us already. He couldn'tve been more vague about what 'appened at the RED base, meaning he weren't confident about it. Didn't once mention healing, neither. Scout didn't talk about passin' him either, meaning he killed the real Medic in the entrance corridor and took his place while Speedy Gonzalez just charged past. Had you looked right..." he saíd, waving the kukri vaguely in the Scout's direction, "You'd have seen the bastard."
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He kneeled down and hauled up the body onto the table, face up, before yanking the arrow out of its forehead and admiring the bloody tip.
"It couldn't have been the Demoman, because he used them sticky bombs. Couldn'tve been truckie there, since he was working on his sentry with his wrench. Heavy munched on that Sandvich, so it weren't him. Scout passed everyone on the way here at 'is regular speed, so it weren't him. Pyro lit Spy's fag before yeh got here, but none of us went up in flames, so it weren't none of the four of us. And what's more, the "Medic" got a headstart on Pyro, ran continuously and STILL got 'ere slower? They're more or less as fast as each other."
The Announcer nodded with approval. "Excellent work. But...what about the Soldier?"
"It was less what he did, and more what he said, madame...", rolled the Spy, flicking his butterfly knife across his palm. "The Soldier has been dead for some time. Every other class had been accounted for. This Spy said he had to be..."reminded" about the meeting by the Demoman, and was in a hurry, and yet refused to rocket jump to the battlements as the Flying Scotsman did. He must have run past the corpse of the deceased Medic, AND the living "Medic", which neither of them mentioned...covering for each other, the sly dogs. And competing to get in here first...typical, Scout. If you'd actually hit him, you'd have worked it out yourself."
The Scout crossed his arms indignantly. "Why's everyone makin' it out to be my fault?"
"It doesn't matter," saíd the Spy "He gave himself away with his behaviour. But most of all..."
He spat the cigarette out, and it landed on the corpse of his latest victim.
"...he never once said sorry. Never."
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Hope you enjoyed.
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