text: . Dead. How? He couldn’t be. He could barely muster the strength to read the report again. This could not have happened. For 5 years now he had been the key to keeping the tide of war in their favour, keeping them in control. Every single plan devised by the scheming sons of bitches on the opposing side had been fed into his hands, and every time he had all the time in the world to counter their moves, force back their troops. They had been in control, and it was all thanks to him. The war hero. The brave agent working craftily under the eyes of the enemy, daringly stealing secrets crucial to the war effort. He had been the motivation that kept the entire force working. How could he possibly be dead? How could he be gone? He was no fool of course, he knew men were ultimately expendable and died often, but not him. He was too talented to be caught. Surely this must be a joke. But no, he couldn’t afford to be a fool. He was dead and there was no way round this. There is still a war to fight and he of all people could not be seen breaking down. He was the leader of the whole cause, his people could not see him collapse. No, the effort must continue. A military funeral must be arranged, of course. Of the highest honours, he of all people deserved it. New spies must be recruited, new methods developed. This war did not rest entirely on the shoulders of one man and now he must go out to prove that fact. The show must go on. Adieu, Cpl Rier. *Cpt Forest shouted in jubilation*. He was dead! Finally the traitorous bastard had been caught! For so long his plans had gone missing, stolen from beneath his nose. Every manoeuvre cut off, every secretive operation exposed. His hands had been tied for so long and it was showing. Retreats and evacuations, battalions flanked and eliminated, tens of thousands of men left to be massacred in blood-stained fields. And all because of this one, tiny, insignificant, rat. Well the rat had been caught. As one of his own secretaries no less. That would not do wonders for his personal status. But now was not the time to be worrying, it was a time of celebration. For the nights of worrying were over! The mole had been found and the mole had been shot. No more information would be leaked, no more documents stolen. The suffering had gone on far too long, but now the war could swing back in their favour. And he was very happy to take revenge on every man who stood in his way and had benefited from this piece of shit uncovering all of his tactics. He had been made to look like a fool, but now it was over. No longer would his men suffer. It was their turn to bleed. Cpt Forest spat in the trash can at his feet which now held the name badge of the once mysterious spy. Rot in hell, Cpl Rier.