Chapter one
The jets would be coming today, as they did every year on this exact date. It was a day most grandparents dreaded, seeing their grandchildren be taken away and never seen again. The only time when they would come back was either in a body bag or looking like one from old age. And their grandparents would be dead by then if it was the latter.
Most grandchildren, however, trained for this date their entire lives. Honing on their skills of their class so they would indefinitely get picked for it. That was the only thing some could be allowed to do, with all of the rules and such. You either work or train. If not, you'd be sent out to our Mayor, who would beat the crap out of you and leave you in the hospital for a few days to think it over.
I had never trained for my class. Never got to. Out of eight of them, none of them seemed to suit me. So I just worked all day, and became an invisible man. People knew I was there, but never acknowledged my existence. I didn't mind, being lonely left me time to think, which one of the things I did best was.
But in my childhood, now even, I had friends. We chatted sometimes, and that was the closest we got. Didn't even want to get close to them anyway to see them die when I got older. A person's death is nothing; a friend's death is everything, my grandmother used to say. I only got to know one person very well, as far as I can recall.
Six years ago, when I was working, someone came over and talked to me. Not sure why she did it, but we talked, or the equivalent of it for me. I don't even remember what it was, childish things perhaps. But she became my first real friend, and I remember her saying when she had to go, "See you later!" I had raised a hand as a goodbye.
I thought of that experience often at that age, and it was about a month later when she came back to talk to me. This time, I really tried to talk to her instead of giving the plain answers and nods I had given last time. And when she had to go, it was another, "See you later!" and she was gone. And I still didn't learn her name that day.
A year passed, and we had not talked. Finally I mustered up the courage one day and started to ask around town where she was. I finally found her on the top of the chapel's roof, a scoped rifle in her hand and shooting at rabbits awhile away. Might have been a mile, might have been a few meters away. But I climbed onto the roof as well and gave her a simple tap on the shoulder.
She jumped into the air and grabbed a deadly looking knife sitting by her side and pointed it at me. She relaxed once she saw it was only me. "Sorry about that." She said, putting the knife back. "You were so quiet, I didn't hear you."
"What're you doing?" I asked, sitting down on the roof somewhat next to her.
"Trying to hunt these rabbits. Problem is, they're heads are so tiny it's hard to get a killing shot."
"Headshot? You're trying to be a Sniper?"
"Yeah." She smiled. "My grandparents always said I had a great aim. Now watch the rabbits, the one with the white fur." She looked through her scope and aimed. Then, with a pull of the trigger, the bullet went straight into its furry little head.
"Whoa." I said, amazed.
"What's your class?" She asked.
"My class? Uh…Soldier." I lied. "Soldier." I didn't want her to think me as lame to say I hadn't trained for being any classes.
"Then that's what I'll call you." She held her hand out. "Call me Sniper."
I shook her hand. "Nice to meet you Sniper."
Ever since that moment, we had developed into good friends. Now I would lose her when the jets came. I would hear of her death. And there could be nothing I could do.
My grandfather called my name, stirring me from my memories. I went inside and found him there, a shotgun and shovel in his hands.
"Here are your supplies. You said you wanted to be a Soldier, right?" He asked, handing the weapons to me.
"Yeah." I averted my eyes from his.
"Tell me the truth."
I sighed. "I have no idea what class I'll be."
"You can't keep up an act. Sort out your class on the plane. I don't want to see you ever again. You come back here as an old man, just like me."
"I'll try."
"You will. Now go, everyone's waiting."
I slung the shotgun over my shoulder and gripped the shovel tightly in my hands as I exited out the door. Through the window, I took one last glance at my grandfather. We had already said our goodbyes.
One jet flew above my head, and I glanced up to watch it pass. It was greatly close to the ground, going to land on the runway a mile or so away. I started to run. I was late.
The process went out just as the others before me had gone year after year. Your name is called and you are taken into the plane, away from your families and the people of the town crowded around watching you. I found Sniper second in line and had no choice but to go last. There were eleven of us in all. Eleven more citizens being taken away.
Someone's grandmother tried to break through the crowd and rush to her grandson or daughter but a guard easily held her back as she cried and screamed, "This is inhumane! They're just teenagers! They're our children!"
The guard had to take her away before anything happened, leading her back to her house. One year, one such thing happened and it caused a riot. It destroyed half the town and five people were killed, including the grandparent that started the riot. They were burned to death by their grandchild, a Pyro. It was brave for someone, a grandmother especially, to try to stand up for the grandchild.
I glanced over at the others in line with me. You could easily tell who was who by the weapons they were carrying. The classes had three weapons each and the secondary and melee were the only ones allowed to carry on the plane to identify you. The primary weapon, the most dangerous, is given once you complete training. Snipers are given scoped rifles early to practice their aim, however.
"You! Back of the line!" Someone called out and I left my thoughts. Everyone but me was already in the plane while I was thinking. I ran up and faced the man holding a clipboard. He asked me my name and I told him. He scribbled something down and gave me a look.
"Are you going to be a Soldier?"
"Yes sir." Thought the "sir" was a nice touch to my act.
He laughed a little. "Don't you think you're a bit scrawny to be a Soldier? Never mind, nothing like nine weeks of training and a few drugs to whip you into shape, huh?" He paused for a second, as if to let me answer. When I said nothing, he continued. "Now get on the plane, we're on a tight schedule." I followed him on and saw my fellow classmates, I suppose you could call them, sitting in the seats and talking to each other.
The man went up to the front of the plane where the other guards were, waiting for the one that led the grandmother away to arrive so they could take off. I saw an empty pair of seats and started to sit when Sniper called me.
"Soldier! Come here, don't sit alone!" She said and I almost reluctantly came over. She was my friend, but I liked having time to think. And this plane ride was supposedly extremely long. I didn't want to bore her or be bored.
I took my seat just as the guard came through the doors. "Hurry up; we're going to be late." He said and quickly got in his seat. The jet started up almost immediately and moved forward.
"You nervous?" Sniper asked me.
"Damn near pissing myself." I said with half a smile.
She laughed. "Glad I'm not the only one." She showed me a jar from a backpack she brought. "Sniper's are sometimes known to piss in these. Want one?"
"Don't think I'll ever be that desperate. Ever." I said.
"There's no bathroom on this plane."
"Ever." I repeated.
"Your loss, Soldier boy." She took out her blade, a kukri I think she called it, and started to polish it.
I started to look around the plane at everyone. Across from us, I saw a Demoman, or Demowoman I suppose, with sharp pretty green eyes. I had heard that once Demomen were a very complex class, so dangerous that many lost one or both their eyes. Another rumor was that their trainers cut one of their eyes out for intimidation or if they caused trouble. This was because most Demomen that came back from battle missed their eyes. I hoped this wouldn't happen to her.
Out of all eleven of us, there were two Soldiers, one Heavy, two Pyros, one Engineer, two Medics, one Demoman, and two Snipers. I was surprised at the variety of the classes. Most wanted to be Heavies, Soldiers, or Pyros, which were mocked often at being "no-skill" classes. Engineer required knowledge of math and science and was considered boring for not being in the front lines. Demoman required knowing how to aim certain explosives, so that could be physics I suppose. Snipers required a quick hand and terrific aim. Often, no one wanted to be a Medic because it's often not a "fun" class when you have to heal the others the entire time. Scouts had to be agile and fast. One time there were entirely Pyros out of seven people.
"Hey Soldier!" Sniper called to me. I glanced over. "Look at this view!"
I had to lean in since she was sitting in the window seat. Below, the hundreds of thousands of houses below were the size of ones you see in board games. "You think you can hit the people's heads from up here?" I asked.
"I don't think I'm that skilled. Or there's a scope that could do that. Besides, with all the wind the bullet would probably fly into my head instead."
I opened my mouth to respond, but someone in the seats in front of us, a Pyro, interrupted me.
"So what're you guys talkin' about?" He asked, his arms resting on the top of the seats and he was facing us.
"Who wants to know?" I challenged.
"This Medic is boring as hell. I need someone to talk to."
Though I almost had to strain to hear it, I heard the Medic say, "You can just bleed to death then."
I began to study the Pyro a little more. There was something in his eyes that made me think he was as hot-headed as the fire he would soon shoot at his enemies once he got his flamethrower. I had to be careful.
"There are plenty of other people around. Maybe you should talk to the Engineer. Aren't Pyros and Engineers supposed to be best friends?"
"Come on, I'm not going to babysit an Engineer for enemy Spies. What fun would that be? I'm going in the front lines with the Soldiers and Heavies."
"If you do that, you'll be killed in five seconds. Medics don't usually heal Pyros."
"If the Medic is smart, they'll heal one." His eyes narrowed and I could see that I had ignited a spark.
Sniper spoke up. "No need to start a fight. Just talk with the Heavy if you want."
"Nah, I think talking with you lovebirds is more fun. Already preparing to have kids early?" After you've been in the army for fifteen years, at random a man and woman are paired to have children. The children are then sent to the retired soldiers at your hometown. There was one time two childhood enemies were paired together. Another time, a man who was only into men was paired with a woman. But they were forced to be together so more little soldiers could be sent to battle.
"We're only friends." Sniper said, and I could see the anger flash in her eyes.
"Friends my ass."
Sniper got up from her seat, challenging him. He straightened himself so he could glare into her eyes. "I really don't feel like kicking someone's ass today."
"Kick my ass? What a laugh!"
She snatched up her kukri and swung it and the Pyro blocked it with his axe. A few guards began to gaze at us, sensing a fight.
The Pyro looked at me, seeing that I was watching the events unfold. "What're you looking at, Soldier?" He laughed. "You really think you can be a Soldier? I bet I'm twice as strong as you'll ever be and I'm just a Pyro!"
"It's not about strength. It's about intelligence. Which you seem to be lacking if you think strength can beat me or Sniper."
The Pyro gripped his axe and got out of his seat. "You're a dead man now, buddy." With a growl, he swung the axe at me.
I grabbed my shovel and tried to block it from going into my skull. It managed to repel it, but chopped my shovel into two parts: the head and the handle. He grinned at this, as if knowing he would win. He swung the axe again. I knew from experience that to swing an axe it took the whole body due to the weight of the weapon and power. If you could dodge an attack from an axe, you could quickly sneak an attack in.
Shovel head in hand, I dodged the axe swing and slammed the side of the head into his solar plexus. He fell to his knees, out of breath and foolishly dropped the axe. I snatched it up and touched the axe head to his neck. I wasn't looking to kill this man. Not today. I dropped the axe to the ground, picked up the shovel pieces, and took my seat again.
The Pyro sat down at his, glaring at me. Sniper gave me a thumbs up and I half smiled back. The guards I could see were giving me looks, their feelings professionally hidden so I could not tell.
"We are now one-seventh to our destination." The pilot announced and the other classmates groaned. This was going to be a long ride after all.
The ground was getting closer to us and the classmates looked out of the windows expectantly. With hundreds of other jets, we were landing in an airfield next to an extremely large army base which I suspected to be our home and training base for the next nine weeks or so. There were so many other classmates, so many other children forced into battle and taken from their families never to see them again.
They were all walking in straight lines followed by a man or woman holding a clipboard and guards walking behind. The jet squeaked to a quick stop and the clipboard holding man in charge of us stood up.
"Alright, you've seen the others. You follow me to the training room and you start training immediately. You're G section if you ever get confused." He opened the exit door and left.
"Hate to be C section." The Engineer joked and a few of us chuckled.
"Everyone out!" One of the guards ordered and we started to exit out. I could see the Pyro purposely be in the back of the line, either to be away from us or to talk to the female Pyro. Probably both.
When we exited, I saw most of the classmates chatting as they walked. The adults, however, seemed to never speak a word unless perfectly necessary. Guess the fun faded out of the job for them. Might as well embrace it while we still could.
We approached the army base and I could finally see the letters symbolizing out sections. Surprisingly, it started from Z to A so we had to walk quite a distance to get to our section. Maybe it was to confuse an enemy if they came here, though it would only be a useless second. The sections were two rooms, which we were told were bunks on one side, training rooms on the other. The bunks were divided on two sides for the boys and girls. Shame I had made an enemy. Now we had to sleep in the same room. Better be cautious.
Without getting a chance to rest from the seven hour flight, we were forced into the training room. The room was huge, enough running space for at least 25 of us. The clipboard holding man said a few words to a guard and handed him the clipboard before leaving us. This guard seemed to be the largest of the bunch, packed with muscle and a stern attitude. It wasn't difficult to guess he would be our trainer.
He motioned to another guard, who went over to a control panel on the wall. His hands moved so fast we couldn't see the password he punched in, and for good reason. The wall flipped over and revealed a wall of primary weapons. Our eyes immediately gazed over to our individual ones, ones we had been looking forward to see all of our lives. Sniper's old rifle was just a mediocre one; this one looked like even a shot in the arm would take you out.
"Alright soldiers!" Our trainer barked. "Grab your individual weapons! And don't get any smart ideas!" He said this glaring at me and the male Pyro.
The classmates rushed over to the table, nearly drooling to see these weapons. Well polished and packed with enough power to kill someone in one hit. I first walked over to the rocket launchers for my Soldier class, but then another weapon caught my eye. Lying almost hidden in a midst of sniper rifles was a revolver.
I picked it up carefully and examined it. Fully loaded and beautiful looking. It almost felt right in my hands. I looked over to a target and aimed the revolver at its head.
"You! Where did you get that?" Our trainer barked at me, startling me enough to make me almost drop the revolver.
"I found it on the table. Near the sniper rifles."
"Sniper rifles? You're a Soldier, private! Why are you looking near the rifles?"
"It just…caught my eye is all."
"Pick up a damn rocket launcher!"
I quickly put down the revolver and snatched up the launcher. Or, at least, tried to. It was heavy as hell and could barely hold it with both hands. And it wasn't even loaded. The other Soldier gave me a look.
"Hey, man, you okay?" He asked.
I nodded and tried to lift it to my shoulder. It fell back to the table so I had to try again and managed to hold it there, though it killed my posture to do so. I could see the other Soldier holding his launcher in one hand, a couple of rockets in the other. I managed to pick up two rockets as well. Our trainer was giving me a very disapproving look.
"Alright then, let's get to training! We'll do this in order! Since we have no Scouts, we'll go right to the Soldiers!"
"Shit." I muttered and the other Soldier heard this, giving me the same suspicious look.
"You! Fancy-pants, come here!" He pointed at me.
He probably called me that because I had chosen to wear my best clothes here. Some hated wearing dress clothes, but they were almost comfortable. And it looks like I had only got a nickname for it, and a bad one at that. And I was going first. Great.
"Fire the launcher, Soldier!" He barked at me, stirring me from my thoughts. He had already told me how to fire the weapon and I hadn't paid attention. I tried to guess, but the trainer came over and gave me a very long explanation of how to fire it.
"Listen up next time, maggot!" He said. "Now fire!"
Without even aiming at the cardboard cutout that was my target, I hastily fired the weapon and nearly flew away doing so. My arm nearly snapped from the immense recoil and I had to place the launcher on the ground and had to make sure the bone was still in its socket. The rocket itself flew extremely right and almost hit a guard. He backed away a few steps after this.
"Fire again!" The trainer ordered.
"But-"
"No buts! Fire!"
I almost heard the Pyro smirk at this. I reluctantly lifted the launcher and fired again. This was worse than the last, and the whole class cringed at the crack my arm made. The rocket, purely by luck, hit the target. Cardboard pieces of it flew everywhere.
"Next! Camo! Your turn!"
Another bad nickname. The other Soldier was a born-and-raised Soldier, probably preparing for this his entire life. He was already wearing a camouflage uniform, probably his grandfather's. He loaded the launcher, already remembering what the trainer had told me.
"Fire!"
The rocket flew perfectly into the already set up target.
"Good! Fire again!"
This time two targets were up and he shot between them to destroy both.
The trainer nodded. "Good job Soldiers! Next, the Pyros!"
The Pyros were taught the basics of doing their job. Since the flamethrower was close range to medium range at best, they had to be quick when being on the offense or try to find routes different than their allies to sneak up and catch their enemies from surprise. Since our enemies copied our tactics, or vice versa, Pyros could also extinguish allies or repel enemies by shooting a burst of air at them. Also by something that had developed into a tactic called "Spy checking" enemy Spies that try to find out our secrets or destroy an Engineer's defense to leave us weak are easy to find by firing puffs of flame that if it touches a Spy's invisible cloak will reveal them. They were taught each one of these, and one of the guards volunteered to show them a Spy's cloak by using a stolen invisibility watch.
It took them five whole minutes together to find the cloaked guard with their flamethrowers, which the trainer called when, "The Spy would have sapped the Engineer's technology, taken our intelligence, and stabbed both of you in the back!"
Our female Demoman went next. Before they go into training, Demomen were only allowed a sword as a melee weapon and a shield to use as charging if they wished and were nicknamed "Demoknights". They could be that or a regular Demoman with their melee weapon as a bottle of alcoholic "Scrumpy", not necessarily always empty, and their primary and secondary weapons given to them once they were in training because they were extremely dangerous. They were given simulations as children in hope to train them.
Our Demoman chose the "normal" approach with the grenade and sticky bomb launcher. When she was given her targets and ordered to fire, she shot it with almost expert easiness and destroyed nine targets at once with both weapons. Our trainer seemed impressed.
The Engineer was given no training except to read the schematics for his four machines he would need to build and was left alone to read. The Engineer was given the shotgun, pistol, and wrench as soon as they wanted to train to become one. Their Sentry Guns were the true dangerous weapons.
So our Heavy went after our Demoman. Like most Heavies, this man was packed with muscle from head to toe. So much, in fact, that he could lug his 250 kilogram minigun easily with both hands. As soon as he got bigger and more experienced, it was said Heavies could lift it with the weapon with one hand. He was taught how to rev up the minigun and ripped the targets into shreds with the minigun. But one of the most important elements of being a Heavy was the famous Heavy and Medic pair.
Both Medics were also chosen to practice their timing with their Mediguns and also told tips, the only thing you could do, with tactics. How not to heal the same target unless giving an Übercharge, not heal only the Heavy, and heal allies on fire when Pyros or Snipers weren't around to extinguish the flame.
Lastly were the Snipers. The whole group was taken outside to see the Snipers shoot their rifles. The sniper rifles were interesting because the shot grew more powerful the longer you were zoomed in with the target. So if an enemy was wearing a helmet or bullet proof vest, the bullet could have enough power to blast through the protection and kill the target easily. There were once bows and arrows as well for the Snipers, but this made so little sense for Snipers to have that they were taken away.
"Alright everyone!" Our trainer barked. "We'll be doing melee weapons tomorrow! Get a night's rest; you'll be waking up bright and early!" The classmates groaned at this but left the training room to go to sleep.
I gave a farewell wave at Sniper once I went into the male dorm, found an individual bunk, and soon fell asleep. We all didn't want to cause trouble or else we would be exhausted and without energy tomorrow. I could only hope that this Soldier business would get easier.
"Fancy-pants! C'mere!" I heard Greene, our trainer, say. I was in the middle of shooting targets with my secondary weapon, my shotgun. Most of my shots hit the target's chest, the largest section, while Camo, who've I been referring to due to my lack of creativity, kept getting headshots or other almost immediate kill shots.
I was almost happy to hear this. It was a few days after the first day of training, and the only somewhat good day had been with the melee weapons, but Camo was still more experienced with the shovel than I was. Even when I tried a pickaxe, another Soldier melee weapon, the simulated enemy in the training room still knocked the weapon out of my hand. The problem was that close combat wasn't my style of fighting. Escaping and catching them by surprise would be much easier and more efficient than this.
"Yes sir?" I asked Greene, walking over to him.
"Follow me. Commander Seinfeld wants to see you personally." He was talking quieter than usually. Then his voice rose when he turned to the others, "The rest of you keep training! Don't kill each other yet! I won't be long!" Note he said "I" not "we" won't be long.
Sniper gave me an almost worried glance and all I could do was walk forward, not even giving a reassuring look. Why the Commander, of all people, would want to see me was beyond me. It couldn't be between the Pyro and me else it would be both of us being called over. And Greene had said personally. I could only hope for the best.
"Is this Commander…the commander of the whole base?" I asked.
Greene laughed. "No, not at all. I haven't even met the High Commander." High Commander sounded stupid to me. It was something you heard in a science fiction novel about aliens. "This Minor Commander Seinfeld, Commander of Order."
"Order? What kind of order? Political, military, etc.?"
"You'll see."
Of course. We walked the rest of the way in silence, having nothing else to say to the other. It would hopefully be cleared up by Seinfeld. The Commander was in the largest building of the base, obviously, on the east wing on the second floor. I passed by a lot of people on the way, mostly guards, all with different but similar angry looks.
Seinfeld was a woman, not really good in the looks or muscles department, but very much so in intelligence. You could tell this by one look at her. I suppose she had to be like this in order to earn her position, no pun intended. She was busy at work when we found her.
"Commander! The Soldier from G section is here!" Greene hadn't even bothered to learn my name.
"Thank you. You are dismissed." Greene nodded and exited the room. She glanced at me, as if examining me for a few seconds. I glanced around the room a bit, trying to seem as if I was being uncomfortable so she would stop.
"Tell me." She said, finally stopping. "Why did you choose to be a Soldier? Thought it would be easy? Thought it would take 'no-skill'? It's not as easy as it looks, isn't that right?"
I didn't like her attitude. It was making her seem as if she was the smartest person in the world, an almost arrogant attitude. So I decided to give her attitude as well. "You certainly don't look like one yourself."
"Neither do you. You know about the Soldier class as much as I do. I'm not a Soldier, so why are you?"
She was good. Bet she had a whole speech assembled beforehand, though. "Just say what you have to say and let me get back to my training."
"Fair enough. I have already seen you failing at this class. No, your skills with the rocket launcher, shotgun, and shovel are below failing. All you have is luck."
"Thanks for sugar-coating it."
"So I'd like to make a proposal. Convince you to change your class to a much more…interesting one."
"What would that be? A Medic?"
"No, but somewhere in that area. A support class."
"Sniper?"
"No. Now let me explain something to you. You are not quick like a Scout. We already know about the Soldier problems. You are not headstrong like a Pyro. Not good with physics like a Demoman. Not intelligent like an Engineer. Not strong like a Heavy. Not caring like a Medic. Not a long range fighter like a Sniper. Three offensive classes, three defensive classes, two support classes and you can't do neither. By now we have to go into desperate measures. We have either two solutions. Choose another class, or disappear."
"Is there a third option?"
"Actually, yes. Both choosing another class and disappearing."
"There are no other classes. We both know that."
"No, you know that. Think about it. Three offensive classes. Three defensive classes. Why only two support classes?"
"You mean another class."
"Glad you're smart enough to figure that out. Now, you've heard about Pyros. Who are Pyros main targets?"
I thought for a second. "You mean the Spy…is the other class?"
"Exactly. We've had Spies forever. And Spies to fight the other Spies. It's an endless battle. Spies taking other Spy's Intel. But they have to be secret. Disappear and never seen again so the enemy won't think otherwise."
"We're already never seen again from our families. It won't make a difference."
"It will. Spies are everywhere and everyone. Disguising as our allies. Hiding in the darkness. You can't trust anyone. They disguise as friends, family, even enemies. They know everything and will do anything to obtain it."
"Sounds like fun."
"Exactly. We think you should be one."
I had to think again. Disappearing forever. That would mean never seeing Sniper again. "Will I at least get to say goodbye?"
"No. There's a chance Spies might be around. We can't let them know."
"How do I know they aren't in this room?"
"Because this is the second most secure room in the building. We have thermal cameras all around the room. Pyros to clean them out on the spot. And soundproof walls."
"How do you know I'm not one?"
She had to think about this one. Then smiled. "I think you'll be perfect for this job."
"Do I get any cool gadgets?"
"Of course. But you must rely entirely on being secret and inconspicuous. These gadgets will help and hurt your detection." As if knowing I'd accept, she already had the gadgets at hand. She handed me the first thing, what appeared to be a radio, off a table next to her. "This is a Sapper. Destroys any and all technology. Engineer buildings. Cameras. Just make sure you're not caught planting them."
She got out a cigarette case and handed it to me. "Don't you think I'm too young to be smoking?"
"Not for some of your disguises, no matter what the cost is, remember? But that's not all it is." She grabbed the case and opened one side of it. Inside was a screen with different buttons and such on it.
"Fancy." I commented.
"Use these to obtain your disguises. The cigarettes on this side scan the target and when you flick the lighter it saves it. You can keep nine running disguises at once. It was originally used for all nine classes. Now lastly and most importantly," She grabbed one last thing from the table, a watch. "The Invisibility Watch, or Invis watch, some call it."
She put on the watch. "Now with one press of the button," She suddenly disappeared. "You turn invisible. Not forever, however." She pressed the button again and reappeared. "Long enough to stay hidden, however. We have two watches at hand for different situations.
"The regular Invis watch renders you invisible as long as you remain slow and steady and blend in with the shadows. But this one does recharge. Stay perfectly still and you'll remain invisible and charge forever. The other is the Dead Ringer." She picked up this one, which looked like an old fashioned brass watch. "Doesn't provide you with invisibility unless…well, let me show you."
She took off the Invis watch and put on the Dead Ringer. She handed me a revolver as well. "Now shoot me. Headshot I'd prefer." She seemed to know what she was doing, so I pointed it at her head and squeezed the trigger. Her body fell to the ground.
"Holy-" I nudged her body with my foot. Did it work? I suddenly felt cold steel against the back of my neck.
"That's when a Spy would return the favor." She pulled the knife away from my neck and took off the watch, placing both on the table. "And other classes don't have Dead Ringers either, thankfully. It's fun to mess with them."
"How would you know?"
"Because I'm one myself." She said with a smile. "Or once was, to be correct. Now I just recruit them. Give proper order to the playing field. Now, I forgot two also important gadgets. The revolver," She nodded at the one in my hand. "And the butterfly knife." She picked it back up and expertly showed me how to open and close it. "Easy to open with one hand so you can sap a machine and kill its owner easily. Very nice…gadgets. Have I convinced you enough?"
"I'm afraid so. Besides, better to be useful and unknown than dead weight and known."
"Amen to that. Now, you will have to disappear tomorrow. Today we'll show you how to use your gadgets. Remember everything we show you. Accept in your mind that you'll never be seen again. Now let's start out with the revolver."