Meet the Mailman

Meet the Mailman (Part 2)

"Gentlemen," The Frenchman who caught you and brought you back spoke from behind your seat. "This is the culprit."

The room of eight other men stared at you. "Dear god..." The one in the helmet replied.

"L-look, guys, I was just-"

"Non!" Your captor said, silencing you and making you jolt a little in your seat. "It appears that the one you cried wolf at, Demoman, was merely a mailman." The man continued.

"Aye, but they're in blue, no? They could be a spy..!" The Scottish man said, raising his voice at the accusation, making you lean back in your seat, stiff and uncomfortable.

"And pray tell why a BLU Spy would walk to the mailbox with no disguise." The room was silent, the cyclops raising his pointer finger and then dropping it.

"Fair point." He grumbled and slugged back a large bottle of...was that whiskey? That would make sense, you guess...

"They're a communist! They deliver propaganda and advertisements!" The one in the helmet slammed his fists down on the table.

The man behind you sighed. "The politics in which this one involves themselves is not within our concern at the moment..." He sounded tired of this crap.

You wondered how often this sort of thing went on. Maybe if you weren't so tired and beat up after the day and just dragged in here by a knife to your throat and told to sit still, you would find more amusement in this.

"Look..." You tried speaking up again, to which you were not silenced this time. "I uh...I was doing my job, okay? I'm the mailman around here and I really just want to make enough hours so I can get paid. Coming here to deliver isn't the highlight of my day or anything so if you just don't want me to come around...."

"But the advertisements...!"

Everyone looked at the one who said that. Who would be distraught about not getting cheesy ads?

"Soldier...for one minute, can you not?" The tired Frenchman said.

It was like everyone but him and the guy slugging back whiskey had tuned out- Oh no wait, that guy looked asleep now...but the guy in the hazmat mask was looking at you. It was kind of freaking you out now...

"In that case, I'm sorry 'bout shootin' you down all them times." The silence was broken by the Australian. "But how are you still walkin'? I know I hit ya."

"O-oh," You realized he addressed you. "Bullet proof vest."

"You managed to dodge all my defenses?" Another man on the other side of the table with goggles and a hard hat spoke, leaning into the conversation.

You blinked. "Uhh...yeah I guess..." You shrugged. "I learned the pattern and blindspots so I wouldn't die while getting over here."

"Must be pretty fast, ey?" The younger man in the room said, leaning closer to you with that smirk on his face.

You leaned back in your seat. "Ah...no? Actually, I'm not all that fast...I just know when to dodge and sprint it out..."

Questions started coming at you now from left and right, and you were trying to take them all in, but the room was silenced by a very loud shot. Everyone went silent and you nearly pissed yourself. By the look on the Boston kid's face, he might have pissed a bit.

The ski masked gentleman who had called this meeting held the revolver pointed up and at a slight 60 degree angle, the bullet mark fresh in the ceiling. They all stared at him, yourself included.

"I did not call you here to make chit-chat with the mailman." He huffed. "I called you all here so we are aware that this is the issue." He pointed at you and then looked specifically to you as he said, "We do not need the mail which you send. MANN Co deals with all of that."