The night Spy.
"Hey, Hevy."
"Da?"
"Can you see anything? 'Cause I'm drawing nothing here."
Hevy peered over at the Soldier, curious as to what nothing looked like on paper.
"No," he said in his thick Russian accent, "Hevy cannot see anything in distance." Soldier nodded.
"Alright, wait here for me," He said. Dragging his launcher into the firing position, he prepared to make the dash for the relative safety of the blue base. Leaping out from the cover, he found himself under fire almost immediately. Bullets zipped past him and thudded into the ground next to his feet. Seeing no time to take more cover, he ran as fast as his little Soldier boots would take him, narrowly dodging the next barrage of enemy fire that peppered where he had once stood. Dodging left and right as fast as he could, he zigzagged through the minefield, and hunched himself to present a smaller target, though how looking at the ground was supposed to help him I'll never know. Launching the last couple of metres, and slamming face first into the garage door, he managed to tuck himself away into blue base, away from all those nasty men. "Heeeeooooow! That was one turkey shooting spree! Too bad the bastards can't aim," he said, pulling a shard of metal from his helmet, "He he. I wonder how Hevys doing."
How Hevy was doing:
"Die вы Матери Лохи! Тяжелые это альфа и омега! Я приношу гибели и бесчестье среди ваших семей! Теперь наслаждаться вашей гибели! Хахаха! После того как я уничтожил вашу тщедушный шипами, я съем бутерброд! Интересно, как шпион делает?
Как Spy делал…Sorry. How Spy was doing:
At last, I have found a way to escape from this wretched base. Soon I will be on my way, and then out of sight. Long live the blues, and long live me! This is Spy, reporting in the journal for the last time. Aidios my friends. Long may you prosper.
Things were going well. (Feel free to Google translate this, I had a lot of fun writing English in Russian and then re-translating it.)