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Elephant and Castle

Castle wears the stethoscope. Elephant carries the gun.

“Our remaining time,” says Elephant with a puff of frustrated breath, “can no longer be measured in minutes.”

“Are you talking?” hisses Castle. “What is the one thing you think I need to do right now?” Head cocked, pressing her earpiece, she twists a heavy dial tick by tick to the left.

Elephant grinds those great teeth, waiting, crouched by the door with her hand-cannon cocked. Castle hears the last tumbler whisper into place.

Their sleeping subject murmurs, hand fumbling for something heavy on his chest; but the heartbreakers are already gone.

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