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Mission 27
“Clear,” Keaton said with an AK47 in hand.
“Where could he have gone?” I asked.
“I don’t …” Keaton stopped looking down at his chest. A knife poked through his chest. Teary eyed I fired at the shadow behind him.
“Time for dinner boys,” our mother calls. Laughing we put down our controllers and upstairs.
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55 fiction with a twist at the end.