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The Spy watched helplessly as the RED team surrounded him, he was the last bastion of hope. He had seen his friends torn apart and killed all around him. Nearby the Scout lay dying, the last of his life blood coughing forth from a throat clogged with shredded meat and shrapnel. His hands clasped in urgency at the Spy’s feet, as if looking for one last semblance of humanity in his final hours. Spy’s cigarette fell to the floor, along with his revolver. Dropping to his knees, distraught, he watched the RED spy flash pornographic images of his dying team-mate’s relatives in front the Scout’s eyes. They were all dead now, and for what? What gain had they achieved by trying to steal briefcases?