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Sniper turned from Spy who was staring out of the window as he saw Scout sprinting towards them. Snipe pushed himself away from the wall & stepped forward to talk to him but the kid didn't slow down, in fact, he didn't seem to notice them at all.
He looked at Spy who shrugged in his usual, negligent style & drew on his cigarette.
Sniper hadn't exactly been talking to him any-way, both just standing in the silence, thinking about the crushing defeat that had happened, & what...what their team-mates were suffering.
That bloody monster, how could he have done this?!
Sniper shook the thought away, pulled at his hat & took off after Scout, in a very stiff, controlled, quick walk.
Spy smiled, Snipe had a soft spot for that boy.......suspicions & theories flicked through his head, like flipping through a book.
That's how he remembered things.
If you visual each thought, each idea in some physical form in your mind, you could sort your thoughts far easier.
It could be flowers in a garden, or filing cabinets, or rooms in a building, but he just filed things away in an old, tanned leather journal in his head.
He drew himself back to reality....he didn't want to re-visit the newest entries in his little book.
He focused on the sweet, warm feeling of drawing in the acrid smoke of his cigarette, then gently blowing it out 'till it pushed against the glass of the window, trying to escape, tendrils clawing up to see if they could find a gap or crack to escape into the grey sky to join the heavy, threateningly low clouds.
The scene outside, was dismal.
Spy mentally ran through the attack again in his head.
He looked to an empty window where Sniper had been covering them.
Then to where they had charged.
Soldier, Pyro, Heavy, & Demo had all stuck relatively close together, taking the front as usual.
Scout had been like a whippet out of the pen, already going after some cocky soldier who tried to blow him to Kingdom come.
His eyes moved on the desolate & misty field, watching none-existent men fighting the same battle again.
Where had it all gone so terribly, terribly wrong?
Pyro was first, he thinks. He disappeared off the field. Not even a body......just.........gone.
Then the enemy Spy had over-powered Engie when he wasn't looking & he didn't see anything else from then on because he had a few problems of his own, a problem which had left his blood so inconsiderately on the lapel of his suit, as if in a last insult. Bâtard.
He rubbed his forehead with his gloved hand, feeling the soft leather massage his temple.
He had hung around with the others after the enemy had withdrawn, & only then realised that the team had dropped from nine to just four. He had snuck about a bit as their dead Scout, & saw them dragging Engie's body into their base.
He had thought that they were just moving the bodies...stripping them or something.
He felt a cold sweat break out over his skin.
That had not happened in a long time.
Then again, if what they had done was just the beginning, he had more than a right to be
terrified.
At least they had recovered their bodies, not that it had been easy, he thought, rolling his left shoulder, wincing as a pain shot through his arm.
He sucked again on his cig like his life depended on it & focused on the shouts that he heard slowly increasing in volume from elsewhere & opened his leather notebook for another interesting entry concerning the two team-mates currently screaming at each other down the hall.
He looked at Spy who shrugged in his usual, negligent style & drew on his cigarette.
Sniper hadn't exactly been talking to him any-way, both just standing in the silence, thinking about the crushing defeat that had happened, & what...what their team-mates were suffering.
That bloody monster, how could he have done this?!
Sniper shook the thought away, pulled at his hat & took off after Scout, in a very stiff, controlled, quick walk.
Spy smiled, Snipe had a soft spot for that boy.......suspicions & theories flicked through his head, like flipping through a book.
That's how he remembered things.
If you visual each thought, each idea in some physical form in your mind, you could sort your thoughts far easier.
It could be flowers in a garden, or filing cabinets, or rooms in a building, but he just filed things away in an old, tanned leather journal in his head.
He drew himself back to reality....he didn't want to re-visit the newest entries in his little book.
He focused on the sweet, warm feeling of drawing in the acrid smoke of his cigarette, then gently blowing it out 'till it pushed against the glass of the window, trying to escape, tendrils clawing up to see if they could find a gap or crack to escape into the grey sky to join the heavy, threateningly low clouds.
The scene outside, was dismal.
Spy mentally ran through the attack again in his head.
He looked to an empty window where Sniper had been covering them.
Then to where they had charged.
Soldier, Pyro, Heavy, & Demo had all stuck relatively close together, taking the front as usual.
Scout had been like a whippet out of the pen, already going after some cocky soldier who tried to blow him to Kingdom come.
His eyes moved on the desolate & misty field, watching none-existent men fighting the same battle again.
Where had it all gone so terribly, terribly wrong?
Pyro was first, he thinks. He disappeared off the field. Not even a body......just.........gone.
Then the enemy Spy had over-powered Engie when he wasn't looking & he didn't see anything else from then on because he had a few problems of his own, a problem which had left his blood so inconsiderately on the lapel of his suit, as if in a last insult. Bâtard.
He rubbed his forehead with his gloved hand, feeling the soft leather massage his temple.
He had hung around with the others after the enemy had withdrawn, & only then realised that the team had dropped from nine to just four. He had snuck about a bit as their dead Scout, & saw them dragging Engie's body into their base.
He had thought that they were just moving the bodies...stripping them or something.
He felt a cold sweat break out over his skin.
That had not happened in a long time.
Then again, if what they had done was just the beginning, he had more than a right to be
terrified.
At least they had recovered their bodies, not that it had been easy, he thought, rolling his left shoulder, wincing as a pain shot through his arm.
He sucked again on his cig like his life depended on it & focused on the shouts that he heard slowly increasing in volume from elsewhere & opened his leather notebook for another interesting entry concerning the two team-mates currently screaming at each other down the hall.
Literature
I Hate Nights Like This
I hate nights like this:
Nights where the world is dark and scary and it doesn’t matter that I’m a paladin because I feel like everything I touch gets ruined in ways that would make Wreck-It-Ralph turn green with envy.
Nights when I’m alone even though I know she’s only a phone call away because she is that important to me that I’m terrified just to speak with her partly for fear or ruining her and partly for fear of fucking that up, too.
Nights when I’m powerless and not even the boldest music can bring me the least shred of strength or peace or courage and it wouldn’t matter anyways because I don
Literature
click it
no use for drama.
i graduated high school.
click x or don't whine.
Literature
I am Proud
You say, "Why can't you be more like her?" And I know why you say it
She is beautiful, she is thin, she is classy
All the guys want her and all of the girls like her,
she is the perfect girl and nobody would ever think otherwise.
You would never see her shooting pool with the guys
Or eating Buffalo wings with hot sauce smeared around her mouth.
You would never see her walk out the door in a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt,
a pair of old sneakers on her feet, no makeup on her face.
You would never see her drive a pickup truck to the movies with her friends
Or catch her joking around like she is 'one of the guys'.
She is perfect.
And
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