shankie: (cups on medics)
[personal profile] shankie
Team Fortress 2: Tentaspy/Scout, Scout/Other Scout, peripheral Snipers, etc.

The RED team gets a few replacements for lost members; one in particular doesn't have a promising career ahead of him.


The original story as it has continued...


- BLU Base -

If Spy didn’t know any better, he might suspect that the last few years had driven Medic to deeper depths of insanity. It was far more likely it had merely changed form, now that he had every sadistic outlet a killer might ever want, regularly paid for doing whatever he wanted to the REDs. This change of career, from scientist to mercenary, had merely put him in a constant good mood. Not that anyone else would be likely to tell, it didn’t mean other people around him needed to be enjoying themselves, too.

On this particular evening, long after the rest of the BLUs were asleep, Medic didn’t seem to be in any great rush for Spy’s report. Medic was just settled back in his chair, sipping scotch behind his desk with one hand, and petting Spy’s bare head with the other. He was looking revoltingly pleased with himself.

Medic was perfectly aware that Spy hadn’t slept in days, wanting nothing more than to slink into the canals and not come out. He took advantage of Spy’s ebbing willpower, seeming to enjoy the inability to even struggle against the words, still and quiet as Medic’s bare fingers ran through his hair.

He’d almost fallen asleep, growling at himself when Medic brought him back out of it.

“So? You had something to say?”

At last, the way out.

“Ze REDs have a truck coming in tomorrow. A new Spy, Pyro, anozer Solider, et standard resupply.” He was mumbling, but Medic didn’t seem to mind.

Medic instead took another thoughtful sip out of the amber glass, then drew his hand off Spy’s head

“I vas not aware they needed another Solider.”

“Oui. RED Medic made zee request.”

There was a pause, while Medic put the glass down, frowning. He took off his tie, tossing it on the desk, then popped open the first few buttons of his shirt before settling back in the chair.

Spy grew tense, longing to just leave.

“I vould have liked to know that earlier,” he finally announced, sternly. “I’ve been over this. The REDs are the enemy, not toys. I need to know vat they are doing. Verstehen Sie?

“Oui.”

“Fine, fine. Freisetzen.”

Spy immediately pulled back, giving himself a safer distance. Medic seemed to be ignoring him now, flipping open a manila folder in front of him, the drink still in hand, so he didn’t waste any more time to leave, cloaking before slipping out the door.

It was still and quiet, which was good; nobody was awake to hear him slink by with less stealth than usual. He was too worn out to care.

He took longer than usual, laboriously working his way under the base, then through the sewers out to the underground canal and something like home, taking off all his clothes and tossing them unceremoniously on the concrete. Sinking down in the deep spot, one limb anchored around an errant bar in the side so as not to drift away in the gentle current, he almost immediately nodded off, thinking about how nice it was to be there at the bottom.


- RED Base -

The new RED Spy was an asshole.

Scout disliked the guy from Word One: he sauntered out of the truck like he was King Shit and greeted the team with "I have no doubt I can offer what you all have been obviously lacking, Gentlemen," and maybe he was just talking about them going Spy-less for over a month, but it came out all superiority complex. Asshole. He handed his gay little suitcase to Other Scout and the second thing to come out of his mouth was "If you could be so kind, petit." Scout knew enough Frenchie lingo now to get that wasn't exactly a compliment unless it was how Spy would call him that instead of some fag pet name like "cupcake."

Maybe Scout had some misgivings about how his fag fuckin' boy-squid was going to eat this guy sooner or later, but then he showed his prick face and changed all that.

Almost immediately, Scout thought of him as Dead Spy, and it made him feel better.

Engineer tried to have a decent conversation, get him up to speed and let him know how things worked here, but all Dead Spy was interested in was where he was going to sleep, if he could have more privacy, was this really all they had? As if it wasn't good enough for him. He was new so he slept in the main room just like most of them did, much to his dismay. This was war, not a cushy bullshit job! He could go find another spot!

It didn’t matter; this would be the end of Dead Spy’s career.

At least the other new guys didn’t seem to mind any of it, settling in with the air of seasoned fighters able to adapt to pretty much anything. The Pyro especially, settling in for about ten minutes before he was hefting his flamethrower and running off around the base. He was pretty sure the Solider ran off to find that Sergeant No-Fun was the one keeping the bucketheads in line.

None of them really seemed like much fun at all, and hitting rocks at BLU base (in the general direction, anyway) with Other Scout was getting old.

Scout was bored. He knew there wouldn’t be an attack on a Sunday, Good Sniper wanted to be left alone, and nobody was walking around giving him a weird look that was Spy’s tell (as far as Scout knew, he’d pretty much always know when Spy was around in disguise) so Scout didn’t have to think about it much before squeezing through the wall.

He didn’t go to the canal, but closer, a man-hole hidden behind random stacks of two-by-fours and oil drums, all behind what might have been a gas station when it’d seen better days. This was the only one of Spy’s tricks for getting into RED base he’d let Scout know about, and he didn’t seem to mind Scout using it to navigate a now memorized way through the maze that was the underground here, full of heavy barred doors, sporadic lighting, and the sound of dripping water. In short, it was straight out of a monster movie, which always left Scout feeling both amused and a bit unsettled.

By the time he got to where Spy lived, he’d only gotten lost once, and he was carrying his shoes, socks stuffed in his satchel to keep them dry. Spy’s own clothes were just laying on the floor, which prolly meant he was here; Scout had never known him to be careless with his things. Scout picked up one of the thin black gloves, running his finger over the slashed-open tips. He shivered a little, then threw it back on the pile.

At the edge of the concrete, squatting to peer down, Scout was at first hesitant to bend down for a good look. The bottom was too far down to really make out, but a fuzzy dark shape was still visible. That would be Spy.

Scout got out his bat, aimed it at a piece of rusting railing, and began making an ungodly racket that echoed all throughout the tunnels, maybe even outside, so he didn’t throw any more swings than he thought would get the point across.

It took a moment, but the shape in the water stirred, then rapidly approached the surface, only to stick his head out in the air moodily.

“S’up?” Scout asked lightly, then sat down at the edge, his feet just dangling in the cool water.

“I was sleeping,” Spy hissed, then rose out higher, shaking out his hair like a dog. It fell back stuck against his skin, a few locks curled over his cheeks. Water ran down his chest, pale and smooth, over a belly spotted with those even markings. Scout had recently decided he looked the best like that, even if Spy also looked unhappy about being disturbed just then.

“I wanna fuck, so cut it out.” Scout let the bat fall against the concrete a few times, wiggling his toes in the water.

Spy snorted, smirking briefly, then swimming over to his pile of clothes. His quick fingers went immediately to his cigarette case, while one of his tentacles wrapped around Scout’s leg.

“Don’t like gettin’ cooped up in the base,” Scout offered, once it was apparent Spy wasn’t in the mood.

“’Ow awful for you,” was the flat reply. Spy lit the cigarette and rested his elbow on the concrete. He did look tired, circles under his heavy-lidded eyes. Facing a little away from Scout, the markings that went all the way up his spine were visible, slowly undulating with slow movements under the water. Scout reasoned it was too much time away from a girl that made it look that sexy. And weird. Like it was difficult to believe Spy really existed.

“What’s your fuckin’ problem?” Scout frowned, even though the grip on his foot squeezed in what might have been intended as some kind of reassurance. It came off that way, even though he also thought it might just be Spy’s recent fixation with his feet.

There wasn’t an answer, but Spy did face him tiredly, then moved a bit closer. His arm was up on the concrete, next to Scout, so he could look him over and slowly smoke the cigarette like he needed to finish it before he’d be up for more than leering. It occurred to Scout that he’d usually have his shirt back on by now, but for once, Spy didn’t seem to care, just letting it stay in the pile.

Spy tossed the butt, then ducked back into the water, going straight for Scout’s legs. Holding one foot in each hand, a pair of tentacles snaked up his legs, the slender ends threatening to sneak up his pants. But he was more interested in the shape of Scout’s left ankle, touching it, looking it over, then moving in to brush his lips over it, just at the edge of the water.

“Seriously, what is your deal with this?”

Still nothing; Spy began licking, which set his knee trying to jerk up, stopped by a squeeze over his calf. It didn’t exactly tickle, but it felt... weird.

“Fuck are you doin’ down there?”

Spy just continued, down the arches of his foot. He looked like a girl giving head as he sucked on Scout’s big toe, apparently being careful with his teeth.

It was a weird image, but he could go with it. Scout reached into his pants, deciding he’d rather join in now then later. He rubbed his cock experimentally, while Spy moved on to the next toe with a weird little growly noise.

Scout opened his fly and pulled his cock out once it was hard; which didn’t take very long. He liked Spy’s hot little noises and they were only getting louder.

Spy was full-on making out with his feet, lifting them out of the water to press his face right in the soles, kissing and licking them like he could lap the orgasm right up. His roaming tentacles kept moving up Scout’s legs, little by little, until one had wrapped itself around the base of Scout’s erection and made all of them shiver once. It took over for Scout’s hand enthusiastically, another arriving to help.

“That’s fuck… that’s better,” Scout moaned, resting back on his arms. “But you could do that shit later!”

There was a low chuckle, then a wet, dripping mass of tentacles fell over him, Startling Scout back into the concrete.

Spy lazily settled around Scout, stretching his arms up in the air with a deep yawn. With that, the rest of him shifted to pulling off Scout’s clothes, quickly but clumsily, leaving his skin covered in gently insistent suckers.

It was so wrong.

But it felt so good.

“Nice I’m not the only naked one for once.”

Spy gave him an exaggerated shrug, grinning toothily.

“Quit fuckin’ teasin’ me squidface!”

Without warning, Scout felt himself propelled forward, drawn along as Spy jumped back into the cold water. After the shock of the temperature change wore off, Spy felt warm against him, letting them drift down a bit before moving back to the surface, letting Scout take deep breaths.

Spy kept them afloat with gentle, rhythmic movements, the rest of his attention back on caressing every inch of Scout’s body at once. It didn’t last long, but Spy smiled and looked completely human and stable and happy... then he was hiding his face in Scout’s neck, nipping up to just the right spot under his ear, spreading his hands over Scout’s chest, claws lightly scratching across his skin.

“That’s more like it,” Scout sighed. He couldn’t help but notice two slender tentacles that just didn’t want to leave his feet alone, but he was fine with that. Scout wrapped his arms around Spy, which felt pretty gay, but he considered he might be long past that and did it anyway, rubbing his thumb up Spy’s spine.

In response, Spy doubled his efforts, squeezing and pulling Scout’s cock, pressing up against his ass, working his way towards pushing cautiously inside.

Scout squeezed against him as it slowly, carefully, began working its way in deeper. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but the pulsating sensations went straight to his dick, so he was into it. And it wasn’t gay, because he figured that had to have lots of thrusting in it; this didn’t. It did make Spy shudder all over, growling and muttering in things that sounded dirty, but Scout couldn’t quite make out. He still liked it.

“Fuck you, Dead Spy,” Scout whispered, grinning to himself.

“Quoi?”

“Not you, keep goin’.”

Spy gave him a skeptical look, raised an eyebrow, then went back to nipping across Scout’s shoulder.

It was easy to fall into the sensations, closing his eyes, hugging Spy and moaning like a girl, but there was nobody else that was going to hear. Nobody but Spy, who was nearly as bad, groaning into Scout.

Scout hit a wave of pleasure that quickly built up, rippling all through his groin.

“I’m gonna come,” he made out raggedly.

Spy hissed and squeezed tight around him while he did; a nice and long kind of orgasm he could really enjoy a solid moment, squeezing back around Spy’s warmth nearly as much. As it wore off, Scout felt the cold of the water again, even as his scalp was damp with warm sweat.

“Let go, squidfag,” Scout lightly insisted, pushing on Spy’s shoulders.

Obligingly, Spy did just that, detangling himself from Scout and swimming back a bit. They both ducked their heads back under quickly, Scout treading water.

Scout still felt tingly and good all over.

“You can make out with my feet now, if you want,” Scout teased.

“Perhaps later.” Spy predictably went for his cigarette case at that, still-wet fingers darkening a spot near the filter as he lit it.

Scout pulled himself up on the concrete, reaching for his clothes to find them soaked. “Fucking Spy,” he grumbled, draping them over a railing to dry out a little. “No way I’m goin’ back all wet.”

Spy ashed his cigarette, a little cloud of smoke around his head as he shrugged.

“Give me that,” Scout demanded, sitting back down on the edge beside Spy, reaching for the cigarette.

As soon as he took it from an amused Spy, the lights began flickering worse than usual, before shutting off entirely, leaving an eerie silence to the sudden pitch black.

“It ‘appens all zee time.” Spy flicked his lighter twice, until it kept an even little flame in his tentacle, just enough light to see them both by until Scout’s eyes adjusted. Spy, however, looked behind them in the inky blackness of the tunnels as if he could see just fine.

Scout took a puff, managing not to cough like he usually did first getting in to one of those things. It wasn’t often, but Spy made it look so... sexy. So he felt like it, blowing smoke at Spy’s face. “That sucks,” he finally replied.

Spy grinned. “I like it.” He flipped closed the lighter, leaving only the cherry on the cigarette, hot and orange, emitting any light.

Scout couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever been in such darkness. It was unsettling at first, but Spy didn’t seem at all bothered, sliding his hand over Scout’s to pluck the cigarette back from him. As Spy inhaled the cherry glowed brighter, faintly illuminating the highlights of his face in faint orange, then it faded again, the spot of light arcing away from them, landing with a hiss several feet in the distance. Everything was so loud over the water.

Still, Spy moved around easily, coming up out of the water with Scout, brushing their lips together like a tease.

“Don’t tell me you can see in this shit,” he whispered. It seemed wrong to make much noise into the black.

“Not quite,” Spy quietly replied. “It would be ‘ard to explain.”

“So you know there’s nothin’ else in here, right?”

“I don’t like to be disturbed.”

Scout laughed and drummed his hands over what would be hips on somebody besides Spy, then left them there. “So what does that make an asshole like me?”

“Ennui relief.”

“Whatever that means.”


* * *


Dead Spy was waiting for Scout at the inside of the tall perimeter wall, only turning off his cloak with a loud Whoosh! when Scout was already in through the narrow gap. Just great. Scout glared at him and kept walking away.

“I’m told you have information for me.”

Scout looked past him, further in the courtyard, where Demo and Other Scout were visibly restraining themselves from laughter.

He looked back at Dead Spy with a remarkably straight face, but for slightly different reasons; only the Snipers knew anything other than Spy had once patched Scout up and dropped him on their doorstep. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and leaned in. “I can’t guarantee much fella, but I can buy you some time for a carton of smokes.”

Dead Spy blinked.

“You’re here about the thing in the canal, right?”

Still nothing.

“What the fuck man, HQ didn’t tell you?” Scout became a bit incredulous; why wouldn’t they warn him about something snatching up his predecessors? “Who’d you piss off, buddy?”

Dead Spy bristled. “Keep to the point,” he snapped.

“Fine, asshole. A BLU science experiment that makes all the Spies disappear also happens to smoke like a chimney, so if I were you, I’d cough one up and see if he leaves you alone longer. I know you got one, everyone comes in with ‘em.” Scout extended his uplifted palm expectantly. “It’s like prison.”

Scout waited, while Dead Spy continued to stare at him, then shrugged and spit in the dust. “I’m serious, man.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Dead Spy hissed, then stalked off in a huff.

The audience in the background cackled the spook into the base.

“I’m not, dumb shit!” Scout yelled after him, but it didn’t seem like he was listening anymore. Dead Spy would just find out the truth the hard way.


[new post]


- RED Base -

Cockbag Sniper cheated at cards. It was hard to do, since everyone on the team was wise to it, but the new recruits hadn’t figured it out yet and the veterans weren’t going to tell them. Where’s the fun in that? So it was the first night with someone new off the truck that nearly all of them would come to the table and pull up an upturned bucket with wadded up bills, cigarettes, porno mags, and other valuables to gamble in a deceptively competitive game of poker. Cockbag would wait until the hand was mostly the unassuming, then saunter out from a shadow to impassively swindle whatever he could.

Scout and Other Scout didn’t play at all; they both ran a mean Three Card Monte to win the crap they wanted, but not tonight.

Medic folded early on in the hand, which was to be expected, not wanting to lose to Cockbag when he was doing so well. If it made Dead Spy suspicious, Scout couldn’t tell, he threw in a reasonably crisp $10 bill casually, upping the stakes. Pyro mumbled something incomprehensible when it was his turn, staying in, as did the new Solider, only without comment.

Other Scout was sitting beside Scout on the ammo crate, spinning his pistol around with his index finger in the trigger guard. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to the game, elbowing Scout and leaning over to whisper in his ear. “You check out that Spy’s piece?”

Dead Spy had his jacket off, so a large, ornate revolver could be seen in a shoulder holster he wore over the vest. It seemed to have a naked lady on the side and a dark wood grip.

“S’nice.”

“It’s sweet man, I want one.” Other Scout spun his own gun into his palm, aiming quickly at the back of Dead Spy’s head. He mimicked firing, flaring out the fingers on his off hand and making a little “Boom!” sound with his lips. “All mine.”

Scout snickered.

Medic shot them a dirty look and mouthed ‘behave’ from across the table.

“Hey,” Scout whispered, as soon as Medic wasn’t looking anymore. “Wanna steal some of Demo’s booze and go up the water tower?”

“Sure.”

They hopped off the crate together, Scout noting Demo looking to get in on the next hand as they slipped out the back door.

Demo’s shack didn’t have a lock, mostly because nobody was really keen on nosing around a drunken smoker’s explosives. Usually. Being the unusually nosy sort, both Scout and Other Scout had spent enough time in there to know just where the good stuff was, where the stuff he wouldn’t miss was.

Other Scout stood watch outside, while Scout gingerly opened the occasionally squeaky door and went inside. The surfaces were a mess of plastic bottles with warning labels, metal parts, half-assembled grenades, tools, and geometric notes he doubted anyone but Demo would make any sense of. In the back, in wood crates, was the goal; as many bottles of Scrumpy as anyone could ever want. They’d only need one; Scout stole it out of an already open box, then rushed back out.

Once the door was secure, and the bottle was secure in his satchel, they ran around to the other side of the base in the dark, passing Engie at the front gate as he enjoyed the view of the moonlit ruins, static-y country music on a makeshift radio, and a bottle of beer he raised in greeting as they passed. He’d wander inside for time to time, but somebody had to be keeping watch.

According to Good Sniper, all of the Snipers had an unspoken arrangement not to fire on one another. Their nests didn’t have line of sight, as far as he knew, and even if they did they wouldn’t take a shot. Good Sniper didn’t broadcast this information, but then again, not a lot of people hung around him enough to really ask. As far as Scout knew, Good Sniper had been there the longest of all of them, maybe since the beginning of all this, so he’d know if anyone did. Most importantly, nobody would know they were up there unless the resident was home. It made the top of Cockbag’s nest a reasonably safe place to hide out at night with pilfered treasures of one sort or another.

Scout went first up the long ladder, Other Scout right behind him for the height Scout guessed at somewhere over two stories, up higher than Good Sniper’s nest, as that one was designed with the courtyard and the area in front of the gate in mind, while Cockbag could see all of the no man’s land and BLU base that wasn’t obstructed by other buildings, walls, or fences. Scout climbed up over the top and took in that view, all glowing softly under a blanket of bright stars.

He took out the whiskey while Other Scout crawled up after him in the dark. It wasn’t quite as dark as it had been in the underground canal earlier, but he could still barely make out his awkward companion, and had to pry the bottle open by touch.

“Nice night out,” Other Scout murmured, settling a few feet away.

“Medic says it’ll be hot as hell tomorrow.” Scout took a long drink, a couple mouthfuls that burned all the way to the bottom of his belly. He licked his lips and wiped his chin as he handed it towards Other Scout. “Here.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking it for a much noisier gulp followed by suppressed coughing.

They repeated the pass back and forth a few times, gazing up at the stars and feeling the tingle of drunkenness begin. Wearing the same clothes and having a few of the same interests was as far as Scout and Other Scout ever got. Sure, they could talk baseball, but there hadn’t been any news on the Sox with the latest train, so that would be old crap. They barely even served similar functions of the team, regardless of having the same title.

Scout got a little drunker, waiting for Other Scout to start going on and on about guns, in detail that fishtailed into boring, like he always did. But, as time went on, Other Scout remained mute; this was a trait he put up with in Spy, but that was more than enough. “You’re awfully fuckin’ quiet.”

“Just thinking.”

“Cut that shit out.”

“I’m serious, man!” Other Scout shuffled up, grabbing the bottle for a quick drink. “You know.” He took another, then handed it back, clearing his throat. “Frustrations.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you ever get, yanno... frustrated? Without. You know. Girls.

‘Not anymore,’ Scout didn’t say. “So? What are ya tellin’ me for, retard?”

“Everyone else is a wicked old creepfest, man, no way.” Other Scout shuffled a bit to one side, as if one of them were there at that very moment to reach in his pants.

“Creepfest?”

“Like you haven’t noticed.”

“So what? I’m the prettiest? Fuck you.”

Other Scout laughed uncomfortably. “You know what I mean. Dick.”

They passed the bottle back and forth a few more times, without conversation. A swell of angry yelling and laughter drifted up from the card game; Cockbag must have been found out.

Other Scout cleared his throat, then smacked his lips noisily. “So you wanna fool around or what?”

“I ain’t gay or nothin’.”

“Me either!” Other Scout retorted sharply, scooting around so he was facing Scout, as much as they could see each other at all. “It ain’t like that.”

Scout thought about it, a lot more than he would have with anyone else, which was to say at all. Other Scout was mostly harmless and wouldn’t be putting himself out there like that unless he was serious.

“I dunno, man.” Scout shrugged, even knowing Other Scout couldn’t see him. “Fuck it.”

He threw caution to the wind and yanked Scout over to him by the back of his head, planting a messy, somewhat painful, but still pretty decent kiss on Other Scout. Other Scout had pretty nice lips, actually, didn’t get all pushy with his tongue or try breathing in his mouth, so it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought gay shit would be.

They pulled apart with a wet noise, and Scout hummed thoughtfully to himself.

“Ace! You see that, mate? Fuckin’ unbelievable little twat he is!”

Cockbag’s voice rang out across the courtyard, and the Scouts scrambled to the edge to see him with his arm around Good Sniper, walking right for them. He looked a whole lot drunker than either of them were, and in a good mood, but that didn’t mean a whole lot if he caught them up there.

They pulled back from the edge in tandem and kept quiet.

Before long, the rattling sound and faint motion of the Snipers mounting the ladder could be heard, but they didn’t go all the way up; just very close jumping down on a small platform to get into the nest itself, laughing.

“Got ‘is money, what counts luv.”

“Ankle biter looked good to pop the figjam, pay to see him do it proper.”

“Stuffit,” Good Sniper chuckled.

Almost immediately, the Scouts began to hear sounds they didn’t really want to be there for; proper gay shit was happening down there.

Scout really didn’t want to be up there anymore.

“Fuck,” he hissed quietly.

The Snipers went dead silent at once.

“Oh shi...”

“OI! FUCKING SHEILAS!”

Scout grabbed his satchel, forgetting the bottle to jump down on the ladder as fast as he could possibly move, Other Scout’s heels right above him as they were urged on by a half-naked Cockbag with his kukri in hand hanging out of the nest, advancing on Other Scout, unfortunate enough to be within reach.

Other Scout shrieked and almost lost his footing, stepping on Scout’s hand, adding to the yelling.

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

Good Sniper appeared, yanking back on Cockbag’s shoulder to keep him from lopping off Other Scout’s head; and he’d come pretty damn close to it.

As soon as Scout figured he could make the drop without twisting his ankle, he turned and jumped, hitting the ground with a heavy ‘Thud!’ Other Scout, in panic, made a much less graceful landing, falling forward on his face in the dirt after his feet made impact.

“C’mon you dumb shit!” Scout yelled, hauling Other Scout to his feet and half-dragging him away.

They ran past a very unhappy looking Medic, who was surveying the chaos from the front doorway. “Didn’t do shit!” Scout insisted as they did, making for the back side of the base just in case Cockbag decided to follow them.

No more hiding on top of the water tower. Fooling around with Other Scout was probably a bad idea, too.



- BLU Base -

When Spy woke again, it was with a sense of unease.

He surfaced slowly, in the shadow of the concrete walkway, and only enough to give his ears and nose contact with the air. Water lapped gently, the lights buzzed, but he couldn’t discern anything else, yet the feeling persisted.

Quietly, he rose onto the platform and got dressed, making sure what he had of a suit was straight and just so before he cloaked.

There it was; a scent in the air currents, from the RED side.

He had an intruder.

Spy proceeded down the trail he’d picked up, not all that far to go before he could hear two pairs of footsteps; one clunking along as if carrying a large weapon, the other soft and cautious. How interesting. The faint hiss of small flame and the smell of petrol gave away the presence of a Pyro. He’d have to be disarmed first.

“Affanculo! Idiot! You’re lost!” That would be the RED’s new Spy, hissing in an attempt to be quiet; but he might as well have been yelling.

There was a muffled, irritated rebuttal.

“I saw Medic’s notes myself, there is something here!”

More grumbling.

“The Scout? Morceau de merde. I’m not listening to him.”

Spy turned a corner and there they were, the RED Spy looking all around them as he followed the Pyro down a tunnel that would be a dead end if they pressed on straight, and it seemed they were. Ducking back into the smaller branch, he remained still and unseen as they passed by obliviously. The Pyro did flash his flamethrower warily at the opening, but continued on. He didn’t seem to believe the RED Spy, judging from the lack of effort.

Both of them should know better than to leave their own base so hastily.

He followed them another few yards, knowing the next bend led to a blank wall; it was here he decided to strike, just before they’d realize they were trapped. Moving up, only inches away, he dropped his cloak and lunged around the Pyro’s weapon, yanking it free of his hands and wrapping his body up.

The flamethrower hit the floor heavily, while Spy switched his attention to the RED Spy, whose legs were already tangled in Spy’s limbs.

Spy registered the long, silver hand-cannon aimed at him the same moment it fired, a thunderous sound in the confined space, and a clean hole through one of his limbs. The pain hit as it coiled up reflexively against his body.

The RED Spy gaped before he was bodily grabbed and hurled into the solid wall, landing dazed, his gun clattering away from his hand.

Instead of picking him up again, Spy plucked the gun off the floor, hefting it at the man experimentally. As he did, the Pyro’s struggles ceased, and the RED Spy’s eyes focused again, going wide as he backed into a corner clumsily.

“I rarely ‘ave the opportunity to carry such a thing,” Spy told him. “Ironic in this place, non?”

Spy quickly aimed at the RED’s left knee and pulled the trigger, the revolver jumping hard in his grip while a spray of blood painted the floor under the RED’s legs.

The RED howled and curled up protectively around the wound, and the Pyro thrashed violently in Spy’s grip, screeching and barking unintelligible threats.

“Fun!” Spy declared, firing it again beside the RED’s arm, making him skitter away from the new dent in the concrete. A thin puff of smoke rose from the end of the gleaming barrel. Spy blew it away and grinned at the pathetic, cowering thing. “Taste. That you do have, if nothing else.”

He anticipated making Pyro learn a new kind of burn, that of water filling his pathetically inadequate lungs, but this Spy would be another sort of fun entirely. He’d have to make him pay for the visit to Medic he’d be forced to make later.
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