The llama had taken the upper hand.
I eyed the beady-eyed beastie warily, keeping my hand close to the pistol holstered at my side. The body of my partner, the late, great Rosebud, was rapidly cooling on the floor beside me. I could feel the blood from his gored throat pouring across the linoleum, soaking into the sole of my shoes. This furry bastard's lunchmeat, I thought to myself grimly.
I looked right at the llama. It glared right back.
"You're not getting out of this compound alive," I told it. It stared back, listless and uncooperative. "Give me back the letters, or I'll be turning you into a very nice handbag. Capice?" I kept on glaring, and fingered the holster once again. It seemed unimpressed.
"Hey, guys, how's it- what the HELL?" stammered AK as he stumbled into the office. I tried to shut him up, waving him out of the room, but it was too late. The llama's head flashed down to the desk, snapped up the letters, then turned tail and bolted out of the office. I muttered, pulled out my gun and chased after it.
"STOP THAT LLAMA!" I screamed, throwing open the door, rushing into the hallway the creature had scampered into... and found myself alone. There was the faint clatter of hoofs off in the distance, and a mocking llama-like chortle echoing, and that was all. Rosebud's murderer, the thief who'd taken the letters, was gone.
I'll find that llama. I'll get those letters. Whatever it takes. In the meantime, I'd have to inform the public of the theft, and try and find myself some new letters, and a new partner. Just another bloody Sunday.
- Double Agent
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