I kept him around because he was always wrong. Like, always. If he suggested that the enemy would advance, then I knew they'd hold the line, or retreat. If he thought a weapon would prove ineffectual, I'd train my soliders to defend against it.
I never let on about this, because I was worried that it would ruin the streak. But I wondered if he knew.
Then one day, a sniper got a lucky shot, slammed into my gut. As I bled out, I asked him how bad it was. He paused.
"You're a goner."
The sole time he's right...
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