shankie: (cups on medics)
[personal profile] shankie
Team Fortress 2: Tentaspy/Scout, etc, you should know the drill by now.

And by thread, I mean, where it was originally posted on the chan. Things take a dire turn for the RED team, with Spy somewhere in the middle... if only it wasn't for the BLU Medic

Continued from Posts Two & Three...

- BLU Base -

Spy wore the appearance of the first other Spy he’d ever seen as he limped through the halls. He’d been a lanky, arrogant man that had died just to serve this sort of purpose, nothing personal. Of all the men that Spy had killed over the years, perhaps that one was the only one warranting any sort of remembrance on his part. The first BLU he’d cut open, the first Spy, the first person he’d learned to impersonate for longer than a few minutes or a cursory glance.

If only he understood how it was he could impersonate people at all. Medic had to know, but Spy would never ask.

He leaned into the swinging door of the infirmary, unhappy to see it open to Medic already doting over one of the mangy Scouts with a scraped knee. The boy was up on the table with one leg swinging, the other propped up to be dabbed at with an alcohol swab held neatly in long tweezers. Medic didn't look up as Spy entered, but he didn't have to; he nodded slightly and gestured with his free hand, in such a fashion the Scout would never notice, that Spy should wait quietly against the wall until he was done.

Spy hated it in here. The antiseptic smell, the too-clean tiles and steel surfaces, the slightly buzzing lights that seemed a little too bright. It didn't help that the Scout was staring at him like he'd just found a mythical Yeti all by himself, by accident, and he didn't know what to think.

"Right then, all better," Medic snapped, slapping taped gauze over the Scout's knee a little more harshly than he really needed to, making the boy yelp a bit. "If zat is all?"

"Yeah Doc," the Scout mumbled, scrambling down and out the door. "Thanks!" he called as it swung shut, leaving the two of them alone.

Medic looked over the bleeding leg of Spy's facade, then frowned. "Up," he said at the table, then strode over to the door and slid a heavy bolt to lock it shut. "Been busy, I see?"

"RED tried to 'unt me," Spy explained, the wound suddenly hurting so much more than before. He'd let it go for too long, having too good of a time. It was difficult to get up by himself, feeling weak and lethargic.

"Let me see you," Medic ordered firmly, like a threat. Like if he didn't, he'd make him pay for it.

Spy's limbs sprawled over the cheaply padded table like being unbound, the one injured pulling up close, with an urge to hold it he didn't try to resist. The wound was clean through and gaping, dirty and bleeding irregularly from his ignoring it for all this time.

"Ugly, ugly. You mustn't let all zhis happen and be so foolish!" Medic scowled at him and a tray of clean tools clattered onto a small metal stand beside the table, rattling with the force of his irritation. "I suppose you went all the way to ze estuary and back in your madness."

"Best place for zee bodies," Spy reminded him.

"Next time, you do it latah!" Medic took a hold of the wounded area from Spy and squeezed it just enough to make Spy wince.

If only he could have gone to the RED Medic in a disguise. It would never work, he knew that, the other man would discover all too quickly there was a disguise sitting in front of him, but it was nice to think about.

The feeling of stinging antiseptic on cotton cleaning his raw flesh had him look up again, at his own Medic's hard face. He was really angry, Spy realized, or some sort of emotion like that.

"Gottdamn it,” Medic muttered, dropping the tool back on the tray as he went back to the counter. “Take off the clothes.”

Medic returned with a pair of needles before he was done, tapping his foot impatiently and glowering as Spy pulled everything off. The balaclava had barely hit the floor before Medic grabbed his arm and ran a cold swab of alcohol on his forearm. “As pleasurable as treating you is, I have other things to do.” He plunged the needle in with more force than was really necessary, but Spy didn’t flinch. The other one followed quickly, just as the warm tingle of the first took hold.

“Ze pain doesn’t bozzer me,” Spy slurred at him.

“Mm. You’ve always been my best patient.”

Spy shuddered in spite of himself, glad Medic was looking away and didn’t see him doing it.

“So. Tell me vhat you did.” Medic went back to cleaning the wound, but this time, Spy couldn’t feel it. He could taste morphine in his mouth.

Keeping the limb still was hard, he wanted to move and just lay there at the same time, which led to a compromise of all the ends hanging off the table twitching and flicking in the air, and his hands scratching idly at each other. “I made zee Spy watch. Pyro drowning, it took so long, I kept letting ‘im up. Water draining out of zat mask, so interesting to see, non? Kept trying to say somezing, but I liked zat mask.”

Spy let his arms fold over his abdomen, so he wouldn’t scratch his own skin raw. The drugs were so itchy, it was terribly annoying. That, and how much he wanted to talk under their spell.

"Ahh, and vat then?"

"I let 'im die."

Medic chuckled.

Spy watched him thread a curved needle with the upmost care. Too much, really, too much.

"Go on."

"I... I didn't know what to do with zee Spy. Nozzing seemed good enough. Spy, ‘e shot me!"

"I did notice."

"I shot 'im back. I did again a leetle later, in zee ozher leg. I wanted to keep shooting 'im, mais non, too quick."

Medic smiled his cruel little smile, though his attention stayed on stitching up Spy's flesh like a torn article of expensive clothing, tiny, quick little stitches to keep him from scarring noticeably. Spy knew how he thought.

"So, vhat did you decide?"

"I cut 'im. And I violated 'im. Cut 'im more. The screaming was so... shrill. Just like a frightened bird, I zink, louder. So pretty when he was almost gone, all white and red and brown, and 'e asked me why I would be so cruel. En Italian."

"And vat did you say to it?"

"I knew what zhey would 'ave done to me if it was them getting zee upper 'and. 'Ow I would be dragged about the base like a dead animal. Gawked at and amusing, if I was dead yet or not." Spy gripped his hands into fists, digging his claws into his palms a little, then relaxed his arms again. "The Spy 'ad nothing to say to zat, to I slit 'is throat."

"Strangely compassionate for you, my creature."

"Eet was getting dull," he retorted.

Medic tied off the second suture, letting the needle drop with the other bloody tools on the steel tray. "Vell, can't have that." He picked up some gauze and began slowly, carefully, neatly wrapping it around Spy's limb, knowing just how to do it so it wouldn't slip off when Spy left. The way he was touching him seemed to suggest it wouldn't be right away.

"All better!" Medic announced. "Keep it dry a few days, but of course, you know that." He made an amused sound and ran his hands lightly, barely touching Spy's skin until they found his waist to settle around.

"You've not been eating vell enough."

Spy shrugged. The injections were already wearing off, and the chatty mood was gone. He shrugged again, this time an attempt to squirm out from under Medic’s hands, his own hands snapping at Medic’s arms to pull him off.


Spy’s arms fell back onto the table.

“Must you be alvays try me so?” Medic looked disappointed as he casually wrapped his gloved hands around Spy’s throat. “So tiresome.” He squeezed, cutting off Spy’s oxygen without waiting for an answer.

Unable to move, Spy just looked back at him, feeling the slow burn Pyro must have felt grow in his chest, the kneejerk desperation to breathe. Medic’s eyes were like staring up into a mirror of his own, only frozen over, like the irises were carved out of a glacier. Spy hated himself for telling him all that he just had more than he was afraid Medic wouldn’t let go.

Of course he did, letting a rush of air pull into Spy’s lungs.

“Vhere vas I? Ah, yes.”

- RED Base -

"Mmph... Spy..." Still mostly asleep, Scout reached over toward the smell of cigarette smoke but only hit... open air.

Jolted awake at the realization he was in his own bed, at the base, and really shouldn't be smelling that so strongly, Scout grabbed his bat and swung it up through empty air as he rolled over. Then he blinked his bleary eyes.

Dead Spy was sitting on his footlocker, legs crossed like a sissy, calmly ashing his cigarette on the floor.

"Good morning, petit," he said with a sly smile. "Sleep well?"

Scout grabbed his twisted blankets with his free hand, shoving them over his lap; wearing nothing but the tighty-whities in front of this dickhead was not high on the agenda. "Fuck are you doin' in my goddamn room?"

"Medic called a meeting, and you are sleeping in."

"So knock? Get the fuck out! Goddamn, why aren't you fucking dead yet?"

Dead Spy just laughed.

"Wishing ill of a teammate seems rather..."


Still grinning, Dead Spy leisurely stood up. "Would a please hurt so much?"

"Yeah, it would hurt me so very fucking get the hell out!"

Dead Spy opened the door and left with that stupid look still plastered all over what was visible of his face, like Scout was missing out on some joke the spook obviously thought was hilarious.


Scout pulled his clothes on followed, making a run down to the locker room to brush his teeth before coming back to where everyone was gathered around the table.

Medic, as usual, was standing at the head of it beside Engie, everyone besides the Snipers were there, the rest sort of loitering about.

Tapping the eraser end of a pencil down a few times, Medic was frowning deeply. At Scout. "Ahh, gut. Vell. Ve have ourselves quite zee problem. Our Pyro is not vhere he sleeps, he is nowhere to be found. If anyone knows anyzhing? Seen him since yesterday breakfast?" He looked around the table now, but nobody answered him.

"Scout! Please, zhis is important!"

Scout jumped, but Medic wasn't looking at him; he was glaring at a sheepish Other Scout. Who was... blushing? Blushing and mumbling something that was probably an apology.

"Vell? He has just vanished into thin air?"

" Wouldn’t rule it out," Demo grunted.

"Shouldn't be sitting around gabbing like grannies, oughta go look," Engie chimed in, ignoring Demo’s comment.

"Look? Look where, exactly?" Scout asked him.

"Well... outside the base."

"In the middle of the day? With the other goddamn Snipers lookin'? We'd make good targets is what!" Other Scout protested. "I ain't goin' out there, no way, not unless we're all goin'."

Medic cleared his throat. He was looking at Scout again. "Zhere is one of us that is rather good at sneaking out."

"Two," Dead Spy said calmly. "We could go together."

Scout glared at him, then Medic, then Dead Spy again. He crossed his arms and glared at all of them in turn when it looked like they were just gonna agree and let him wander off with that cockmunch. "I ain't gonna be alone with him."

"Um..." Other Scout raised his hand like it was elementary school. "Uh, I, uh... could help, I guess."

"Change yer mind?" Demo asked knowingly.

"Well, um, I... I dunno, we gotta find Pyro, right?"

"He's almost certainly deceased, but I'm sure Headquarters would appreciate the effort," Dead Spy replied. He lit another cigarette and backed away from the table somewhat, so he could glance out the front door. "Or we simply do nothing."

"Ve need a Pyro," Medic sighed. "I'm sure you ah right, Spy, but it is only right ve try, ja?" Medic pushed his glasses back up his nose, then scratched his graying temple. "If he is alive, ve find him. Simple as dat."

"Yeah, easy-peasy," Scout grumbled. "Okay, losers, I'm the one who knows my way around out there, so I'm in charge."

"You can't be serious," Dead Spy muttered at him distastefully.

"Oh ain't I? You ain't been here long, you got nothin' to say, pally. C'mon." He pulled out his bat and let it rest over his shoulder, gesturing out with his chin.

Other Scout, of course, didn't have a problem with Scout telling him to go see the Snipers and ask for some cover, energetically climbing up the water tower as if Cockbag hadn't tried to kill him for being up there before, then jogging up the stairs to see Good Sniper for a much safer visit. He didn't take long, returning with a nod, bouncing excitedly around with his gun waving about in his hand.

Dead Spy kept quiet, and that was enough.

The little search party went right out the front gate, but then took a sharp right and followed the wall until they had better cover to go forward. They all watched the ground, glancing up and around them frequently, but mostly looking for tracks or... anything that might be a trail of a stray Pyro.


Around the old gas station, a warehouse with a collapsed ceiling, other ruins, the abandoned train station, along the overgrown tracks. There wasn't any sign of Pyro, or anyone. The hot noontime wind was blowing around the dust, so by the time they'd covered the space halfway to BLU base a few hours later... Scout was pretty sure they wouldn't find anything.

“Fuck this, man, there isn’t no way... uh. Where’s the fuckin’ Dead Spy?” Scout frowned and looked all around, Other Scout following suit.

Other Scout then shrugged.

“Well... was he just here?”

“Maybe?” He held out his freckled arms helplessly, an apologetic look on his face. Why did he have to be so cute all the time, with that stupid little round nose?

“Useless, goddamn fuck.”

- BLU Base –

“Ahh, mon cher, found somesing in ze ruins?” Spy let his cloak drop, using the device he'd stolen off the RED to do it so the BLU Sniper would hear it. A bit of added drama he enjoyed, when he ever bothered to carry a tool for something he could do naturally.

Sniper turned away from peering through his scope, looking behind him to see Spy's disguise of that long-dead BLU Spy. "Wot'd you want?" He narrowed his eyes skeptically behind the green-yellow aviators, and Spy couldn't blame him. The last time Spy had come up here for a visit, Medic had nearly taken the man's head off for not noticing Scout flitting back to RED base with their intelligence.

"Well, it's been some time... I can't 'elp but think... too long, non?"

Sniper snorted and went back to hunching around his shot. "Bugger off."

"You don't feel lonely, up 'ere all on your lonesome? I understand zhis feeling, you know." Spy smiled and wrapped around Sniper's back, his hands playing around his belt. Sniper didn't react, not yet. "What is so interesting down there to ignore me?"

"RED, 'course," Sniper grunted. "Pair a runners 'bout to lose their little heads."

Feigning a loud yawn, Spy began fiddling with Sniper's belt buckle. "Sounds dull."

"Somethin' with you and those little REDs?"

"That would be silly." Spy had yet to shake Sniper's steady aim, but he worked quickly toward it, pulling open the fly of the worn jeans so he could reach inside.

Sniper never wore underwear of any kind, such a thing was far too frivolous for him, so his heavy cock fell out easily into Spy's hands. Finally, a reaction; he shifted his hips under Spy's embrace, cleared his throat, and blinked into the scope. Spy stroked him carefully, the leather gloves still on, muting the sensation of a warm erection growing in his hands. He plucked Sniper's hat off his head, to set it on his own, then leaned his chin on the Sniper's shoulder to watch over the barrel of the rifle, as if interested in the shot.

"Fuckin'..." Sniper cursed, shifting again, spreading his knees a little to give Spy better access to his groin. "Gonna pinch me in that goddamn zipper."

"Well, well, you should be losing the pants then, oui?"

For a long moment, Sniper kept still, glaring through the scope. Then Spy felt a bit triumphant as he shrugged Spy off and huffed as if annoyed, slamming the rifle against the wall and standing, pulling his pants down before returning right to his seat. He put his hand on the end of the gun as if he was about to pick it back up, but instead he merely watched the small red figures in the distance without it.

Spy smiled to the back of Sniper's neck, wrapping back around him to continue pulling on his cock. "I know you miss me, zhere is never time enough to visit."

"Just wish I knew yer bloody game. Always somethin' with you Spies."

"You cannot fault us our nature, mon cher."

"Hmph." Sniper turned around and caught a quick kiss, just a brief moment with their lips pressed together, before resuming what he'd been doing before. The BLU Snipers were the only members of the team Spy could ever safely distract like this, none of them wanted to touch Spy enough to find the flaws in his disguise. But try as they might to keep up the hard exterior, they were all lonely men, and Sniper was melting in the attention, growing warm, a musky, lovely smell coming off him with sweat and his hot breath.

Snipers, such strange creatures, they were ever so fascinating to observe.

It seemed this one hadn't been giving himself much attention of late, with how quickly the head of his erection grew wet and leaking. Spy slowed his pace, watching with Sniper as the Scouts were still loitering about in the open like such fools. All of this was for naught if they simply stood around until Sniper's aim grew steady again.

"So, 'ave you been thinking of me, when you do this for yourself?" Spy whispered, before pulling on Sniper's ear with his lips, licking behind them quickly. "When I would come see you again?"

"Yeah," Sniper groaned, squirming a little, his ass moving against Spy's groin. "Ahh, that's good."

Spy kept watching the Scouts, as Sniper closed his eyes and leaned his head back, knocking his hat back a bit, almost off Spy's head. Finally, finally, they began moving off, back toward RED base and cover. With a little grin, Spy began making long, twisting motions up and down the Sniper's cock, eliciting heavy groans out of the long-neglected Australian.

"Always good to touch you, cher," Spy sighed.

The Scouts finally walked behind a building and out of sight.

The Sniper came with a shudder and a sound that would seem irritated if not for why it was made, then sank back in sweaty relaxation against Spy's chest. "Mm. Games or not, glad ya made it."

"As am I, as am I," Spy assured him, discreetly wiping his glove clean. He left a little peck on the Sniper's scarred cheek, then disentangled himself from the man so he could stand, pulling out his cigarette case.

Still sated, Sniper stayed on his makeshift box seat, not minding his pants around his ankles and come on the floor for the moment. "Got another of those?"

Smiling, Spy lit another and slid it between his thin lips, to muttered thanks.

"Until I 'ave another moment."

"I'll be watchin' for the kids, then," Sniper replied with a smirk. He wasn't a stupid man, Spy could only speculate as to why he allowed himself to be manipulated on these rare occasions.

"Perhaps." Spy returned the broad hat to its owner’s head playfully and let the artificial cloak fall back over him.

- RED Base –

Other Scout’s relief at being back inside the wall was painfully obvious; he sighed heavily and drooped forward, dangling his arms like he’d just taken some hefty weight off his back. “Goddamn,” he breathed, then slowly straightened and went right back to being his perky self. “Where do ya think the Spy ran off to?”

“A cliff, I hope,” Scout grumbled. “Fucker.”

Who the hell did Dead Spy think he was, just taking off while they were outside the base? It wasn’t done! Yeah, maybe Scout ran off and did stupid shit by himself out there, but he got that he was on a team, and he was still alive because he knew how to act like it. That douche obviously didn’t think he needed to do fuck-all but what he felt like and didn’t answer to anyone but HQ.

“Medic! Hey Doc!” Scout waved across the courtyard and jogged over to where Medic and the Heavies were in the middle of cleaning their respective weapons on some crates. The one Heavy that was attached to Medic’s hip every waking moment had a minigun completely taken apart, apparently retooling stuff or something by hand with a metal file as he kept a quiet eye on things.

Looking up from his work, Medic glanced at Scout, then Other Scout skeptically. “Vere is ze Spy?”

“Yeah, about that, I’d really like to know, too. Spook just took right the fuck off while we were out there, man!” Scout threw his hands up in frustration. “Doc, I fuckin’ swear, I’ve had it with that guy!”

Medic quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t look entirely unsympathetic. “I vill speak with him latah, vhen he’s coming back. Und Pyro?”

“Not a stray drop of gasoline, man, he’s just fuckin’ gone.”

Other Scout stepped forward and nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.

Medic’s Heavy muttered something to a hairier one to his left in Russian, and it didn’t sound like happy words.

“Vell, zank you for looking,” Medic told him, frowning deeply. He set the detached barrel of his syringe gun down thoughtfully, as if it wasn’t quite as important as it had been a moment earlier, then seemed to mentally change the subject of his thoughts before looking up again. “Ze Engineer will have dinner a bit late today, somezing he and Demo are preparing.”


“Don’t bother zem, I already treated one burn vhile you were gone.” Medic’s lips moved a bit like he was trying not to smile.

Scout made an exaggerated salute and decided to go bother Good Sniper.

Something that he’d undoubtedly refuse to talk about seemed to be bugging Good Sniper today, his makeshift ashtray on the windowsill of the nest was full and that was never a good sign. Still, he glanced back at Scout and nodded once.

“Spy’s out there,” Good Sniper murmured at him, gesturing with his chin instead of moving the hands on his rifle.

Curious now, Scout walked beside him and leaned against the wall, looking out over what he could see. He didn’t bother asking why Good Sniper knew he’d wanted to know, just watching everyone from up here was his life. A few yards away from the front gate, Dead Spy was, indeed, walking back to the base. Scout could only just see he had his hands in his pockets and an easy gait, like he was out for a stroll through a park.

“That guy,” Scout grumbled.

“Bit of a prick,” the Sniper agreed. “Not the worst.”

“Naw, that’s your girlfriend.”

Good Sniper snorted, amused, but without quite smiling. “Yer squiddy mate won’t keep ‘is temper in all the time, kid.”

“I’m fuckin’ sorry about being up there with all your gay shit goin’ on, but I didn’t wanna, trust me. Wasn’t like we were inside messing around with whatever he’s got in that place, I don’t see a goddamn deed on that wreck.”

“Both knew better,” was all Good Sniper replied with, his gaze still through the scope.

“Yeah, well.” He didn’t say anything else for a while, just watched Dead Spy meander back inside, going straight to Medic for a conversation he couldn’t hear.

Spy had told him a few things about his own team he hadn’t known before, one of them being that the Snipers were fucking. But hearing it as an offhand comment and hearing hanky-panky actually going on were two different things. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but he liked Good Sniper, he wasn’t going to hold it against him or anything. And he’d made out with Other Scout, so who was he to judge? Good Sniper was kinda badass, the sort of guy that was like he’d be rescuing chicks in some shitty action-adventure paperback, not a pansy fag.

Not only that, Scout had to admit he thought of Spy as a ‘he’ and they were pretty much a thing of some fucked-up sort or another. He’d find himself wishing that Spy was a RED, too, so they could see each other more. Stuff like that, as if he was back in high school again and Spy was one of the chicks he wasn’t actually allowed to date, but did anyway. Scout had always thought he hated his dad the most of anybody in the world, but lately? He hated the BLU Medic more. It was a strange feeling.

“I think I mighta caught feelings for him,” Scout mumbled.


“Fuck no. The science experiment. Other Scout’s different, I dunno.”

Good Sniper didn’t respond for some time. His expression didn’t change, but then, it rarely did.

“So you been seein’ him, then.” Scout got the feeling that he was only pretending to be focusing on the view through the scope, now, but it was comforting to not have to look him in the eyes when hearing him say that.

Good Sniper didn’t fuckin’ flap his trap, if there was anyone in the whole goddamn Company he could talk to, it was this one. Still, Scout felt all prickly and weird to be having this kind of conversation. Felt a little too warm all of a sudden.

“You ain’t gonna repeat this shit to Cockfag, are you?”

“Got better things to talk about than you,” came the even, rather honest-sounding answer. “You know me.”

“Yeah. Well. Yeah. I’ve been seein’ him.” He wasn’t about to specify where he’d seen Spy. Scout shifted, not interested in the view, so he gave up and went to flop down on Sniper’s cot, mindful to keep his shoes off it, putting his hands behind his head. “He ain’t like the other BLU fuckers. It’s not like that. Even think he’d defect or run off or somethin’ if he could.”

Good Sniper shrugged. “Wouldn’t accuse you of bein’ a traitor, kid, RED owes you more’n a paycheck.” He quietly grumbled something to himself that Scout didn’t hear, but assumed wasn’t directed at him, anyway.

It was a relief to hear, and Scout sighed out some tension.

“Dunno what to think. He ain’t human, but... could’a fooled me a few times. I like bein’ around him, you know? All this bullshit just gets gone. Feel like I used to before I signed up to this.”

“Wouldn’t go around questioning a good thing. Askin’ for trouble,” was all Good Sniper would say.

“But.” Scout threw one arm over his eyes and grimaced. “Fuck, man, it’s not like I could ever write home to Ma about him, you know?”

“I’ll be honest, mate. I think that kind of problem comes standard in our line of work.”

Scout was still, mulling that over. He hadn’t even realized how much this had been bugging him until he’d started talking about it, how much was not-quite-right in who he was fucking. Fuck. Who he cared about.

“Tell you what, kid. I keep mum, you bring up some’a Engie’s pig, right?”

“That what’s they’re up to?” He looked up, seeing Good Sniper just grinning a bit. “I think I can handle that.”


Scout was pretty sure even Dead Spy wouldn’t be able to bother him, not then. He jumped up and slapped the Sniper on the shoulder. “Naw, thank you buddy.”

Good Sniper just snorted again, not looking up as Scout ran back down and out of his nest.

Soon enough, Engie and Demo were hollering for everyone to eat.

Roasted pig and deep-fried chickens spread out on tinfoil inside the base, smelling like just about the best thing Scout had ever been around. His mouth watered until he was just about drooling, and Other Scout, back plastered to his side, looked like he was starving to death. Whole roasted pigs were pretty creepy, with the ears and the face and everything, but he felt about hungry enough to chew off the snout.

With the exception of the Snipers, the team gathered around in a loosely formed line, Engie grinning and chewing on the occasional bite of his co-creation as he cut apart slices of meat to dole out on the dented metal plates they had.

Scout couldn’t help but think of Thanksgiving back home while he waited his turn, the happy chatter around him and the good spirits with what amounted to a feast around making everything so goddamn nice.

“Hey, uh, you still got that porno I lent ya?” Other Scout asked quietly, elbowing him in the side.

“Yeah man, I got it.”

Other Scout smiled at him, looking a bit shy, then turned away. “I kept meanin’ to ask, uh...”

Whatever Other Scout wanted to say cut short with the sudden hollering of a thick Australian panic from outside.

What was being yelled from the nests was unclear, but it didn’t matter; everyone dropped what they were doing and went hard-faced and straight for their weapons, not a word from anyone but Medic.

“Out front, shnell!” Medic commanded, as he ran for his pack. “I vant mein Soldiers flanking and and ze Scouts checking zee back!”

Goddamn but Medic was scary when he was fired up, like some Nazi general in those news reels.

Scout’s heart pounded with the blood and adrenaline of a fight as he made for the back door with Other Scout, both already pointing their shotguns up and ready. He could hear firing and yelling in the distance, followed by the explosion of rockets and grenades.

Fucking BLU.

He pointed out right when they hit got outside, and Other Scout followed his lead by breaking off to circle the building that way, a determined sneer on his lips. The spin and firing of miniguns could be heard now.

BLU had to be pulling an all-out assault, it’d been so long Scout forgot what it sounded like, the sound of wood ripped apart by bullets, the chaos of screaming and death, all of that happening right in what was basically home. They were already inside the wall.

Scout rounded a corner, his breath pounding in his ears, but nobody was there, he guessed BLU wasn’t trying to be sneaky about this round. Feet pounding the ground, he felt more sure, ready to jump in the fight as soon as he got back around the front.

The feeling of something hitting his shins from out of nowhere came completely unexpected, his gun flying out of his hands into the dirt, but... he didn’t?

With a Whoosh! noise, Dead Spy appeared, grabbing him and dragging him bodily into a shack full of stacked lumber, his hand flying over Scout’s mouth before he could even yell in surprise.

Scout reacted immediately, trying to fight off the skinny fucker, but goddamn if the Spy wasn’t strong, he couldn’t get loose, even angrily lashing out the grip didn’t let up. He bit down on the hand over his mouth and tasted blood, kicking into Dead Spy with his heels, furious that double-crossing fucker would try it, what the fuck..!?

“Petit, petit, please, stop!” Spy hissed in his ear, and it wasn’t... Spy?

The smell of dead leaves and gun oil filled his nostrils from Spy’s suit, and he realized it wasn’t just a guy, it was like ten arms were holding him all at once. But.. what?

He stopped fighting in confusion, even as the fight raged outside in the distance.

“They cannot find us,” Spy whispered into his ear, and a strange tingling feeling went all over Scout’s skin, like weird crawling sparks, as Spy crammed them both into a corner, hiding behind a stack of wood and boxes. What the hell was the squidfag doing?

He couldn’t see Spy, or himself anymore. Cloak?

“Trust me,” Spy hissed urgently, taking his hand off Scout’s mouth to hug him better against the wall. “Not a sound.”

“Like they could hear over that shit,” Scout hissed back. “What the fuck, man?”

Spy just shushed him again, squeezing a little tighter around him, one of his tentacles touching Scout’s lips gently. “Please,” he said, so softly Scout could barely hear him.

Scout had to think for a moment about just how much he trusted Spy, but not for all that long. He remained quiet and tense, feeling sick about just hearing the fight outside without being there.

* * *

Spy and Scout stayed hidden in the dusty shed for well over an hour, long after the sound of guns and screaming had stopped. The battle itself didn't go on for all that long; but after, unfamiliar voices could be heard passing by occasionally. RED had lost. Badly. But Scout couldn't leave to see how bad it was, not with Spy threatening to crush him in the unbreakable grip. At one point, he was holding his breath and held on so tight that Scout hardly could, either.

Eventually, Scout couldn't hear anything but cicadas chirping in a peaceful breeze.

Cautiously, Spy raised his head up, perfectly still and silent for a moment. Only then did he decloak, looking like himself, unwrapping Scout's body.

A bandage was wrapped around one of the tentacles, Scout couldn't help but notice. "Pyro?"

"Ze now-deceased Spy," he corrected, gliding over to the door to look around, the wounded tentacle held off the ground as he did, curled up at his back.

Scout stared a moment, letting that, and everything else, register a bit better. "How long..? nngh. I gotta get to my team!"

Spy caught him before he could charge out the door, his clawed hand a vice around Scout's forearm. "Stay with them, all zee time, oui? Don't come looking for me."

"The fuck's goin' on?" Scout glared at him, but got nothing, Spy just kept his mouth closed obstinately. "You fuckin' know, Spy!" He yanked on his arm, but Spy didn't let go.

"I skirt a fine line with you," Spy said, with careful gravity.

Irritation flared up in Scout's chest, but it deflated just as quickly; Spy was sticking his neck out pretty goddamn far and sharing intel on top of that... he got it, he did. Spy looked genuinely regretful about his silence. Scout dropped the glare.

"I know."

“Eet was a coincidence I was there at all to ‘ear what I did,” he remarked. “But...”

With his other hand, Scout grabbed Spy's shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss goodbye, to interrupt, rushed and eyes open. He felt like he should say something else, but they just let go of each other.

Spy shimmered away and Scout ran out into the remains of the day.

His shotgun was still laying where it had fallen in the dirt, comforting to reclaim and hold in his hands as he circled around the front. He didn't even get there before he saw the first splatters of blood and what was left of a Solider. The new one.

The courtyard looked like a bomb had gone off. Heavies and Soldiers lay in pieces everywhere, black scorch marks spotted everything, blood was soaked in the dirt. It was all red, if BLU had lost anyone they'd taken them when they left. Scout looked the scene over long enough to take in that there weren't any other classes amongst the dead.

Not until he got inside, that was. Demo's chest was riddled with syringe gun needles and he had a hole in the skull, laying there as if he'd died trying to defend the meal they'd never had the chance to enjoy. Rather, the absent meal -- BLU had stolen it. Now Demo was there to just stare up with dead eyes.

Scout swallowed, and felt numb. It wasn't the first time he'd seen his teammates as corpses, but goddamn, he should have been there. He should have done something. Maybe he could have done something, anything, to stop even a little of this. He hadn’t fired a single shot, it just wasn’t right.

Where the fuck was everyone?

He sprinted downstairs, to find the metal basement door was locked, and undamaged. BLU hadn't even tried to get in. Why wouldn't BLU even try to grab intel after all this? He'd shot open the one at the BLU base, they'd know it wasn't all that hard with the kind of weaponry that ran around this place.

Knocking on the door sounded dangerously loud in all this silence of the narrow stairwell, but there wasn't anybody around to hear it, not out here, anyway. For a second try, he made a fist and pounded, relieved to hear a set of rushed footsteps run forward, then a muffled voice as the lock disengaged. It swung open to reveal a ragged, blood-crusted Cockbag that hauled him forcibly inside and slammed it back shut.

"Fuck 'appened to you?" Cockbag snarled, but didn't pause for an answer, he strode straight back along a dirty blood trail on the floor that led to Medic's office.

On the table, he realized it was Medic's Heavy, who was blackened and burned, still and silent, but that had to be from the IV running into him. Medic looked just as bad as Cockbag, with what might have been a bullet to the arm wrapped up messily in gauze and ignored as he frowned down at the work of gingerly cutting the frays of clothing off Heavy's angry burns. He didn't even look like he was still alive.

It was just the three of them.

"Where the fuck is everybody?" Scout asked, suddenly filled with a flash of panic. He shoved his gun in his satchel and looked for an answer from any of them, but only Cockbag wasn't busy or unconscious.

Cockbag didn't look like he wanted to talk; he was gritting his teeth, grinding them back and forth.

"Seriously fucking what?"

All at once, Cockbag grabbed the front of Scout's shirt and slammed him back against the wall, so hard Scout's head flung hard enough he saw stars.

"Where th’fuck were ya?! Do you have any idea wot bloody well 'appened?!"

"No! I fuckin' don't! You think this is my fault!?!"

"ENOUGH!" Medic snarled, without looking up, stopping them both. Sniper didn't put Scout down, but they were listening. "Ve haff enough problems vihout you acting like children!" He picked up his big gun, with an obvious wince at the weight of it, and went back to ignoring them to pull the trigger a few seconds. He then put it down again to continue painstakingly cutting and pulling with tweezers.

Cockbag kept glaring, but he put Scout down, eventually. "Fine," he snapped. "BLU weren't here to kill us. Anyone not a bleedin' corpse up there or in here got tranq'ed and hauled off, and we would'a been too if I wasn't draggin' our boy on the table down here with Medic."


"Wot d'ya mean what, half the team's dead and the rest got snatched by that crazy Gerry across the water! Got four of us! If they didn't already get the frog and the rubbery fuck."

"Who’d they get?"

The Sniper took a deep breath. "Truckie, the little Scout, the crazy bucket-pounder, 'n... other Sniper." A pained look flashed over his face.

Scout was pretty sure the same one was on his. Sergeant Barks-a-lot, Engie, Good Sniper? Other Scout? BLU Medic had them? That was worse than dead, that was... bad.

"We took out some of theirs, make no mistake, but kid..." Sniper took his hat off and scratched angrily at his scalp, looking away from Scout. “Medic an’ me were goin’ back out, but it was already too damn late,” he mumbled, face riddled with guilt.

"Maybe they're gonna ransom 'em back! RED'll pay up, I mean..."

"Don't be dense!" the Sniper interrupted sharply. "They want tech, specs, orders, codes, schedules, I..! I gotta... wash up, no good here." His voice trailed off at the end to mumbles, then he hesitated before stalking back out, slamming the doors behind him.

Scout watched after where he'd gone, staring at the door. He'd been so close to BLU base only a few hours before this happened. Wasn't there something he could have done? Sighing heavily, he turned around and slumped down the wall, until he was hugging his knees to his chest.

"Doc? What... what the fuck are we gonna do?"

"Tonight, ve stay in heah. Tomorrow, ve bury ze dead."

"Yeah, and then what?"

Medic just shook his head mutely.

Scout didn't really want to be in there anymore, either, he wouldn't be any good with saving Heavy.

Instead of making the suicidal choice following the Sniper to the showers would be, Scout went to the intel room, where the briefcase and everything else worth anything was just sitting, untouched. Monitors showed the grainy black-and-white security footage of cameras everyone forgot about all the time, dark and increasingly harder to make out scenes of carnage in the courtyard or just unsettling stillness on all of them.

He wondered if it was worse for him listening to the firefight, or worse for Cockbag as he watched everyone get dragged away. Watching, probably.


- BLU Base –

When Spy returned to his base, Medic was alone in his office. As soon as he decloaked, Medic stood up, slamming his palm on the desk. He already looked perfectly polished and pressed. One would never know he'd just been in a fight, except for the smell of blood that never quite washed off.

Without a word, he strode over to Spy and slapped him across the face, then again. Medic stood there and glared down at him until the entirety of his displeasure was conveyed, and Spy broke eye contact, lowering his head.

Medic had apparently been waiting for him, because he circled him and went straight for the door. "Come," he said, as he turned the knob.

Spy cloaked again and followed.

A good half of the basements underneath the base had been left unfinished, a door past the gleaming modernity of the official BLU facilities that led into a stark contrast of concrete floors, un-insulated wood walls, and sporadic lighting. Most of it was used for storage, one room had relics of the factory that had once been the building's purpose, but some unknown BLU had also taken the liberty of making makeshift holding cells some time before Spy and Medic ever arrived.

It had always been dark and empty down here, before now. It was strange to see the Soldiers now standing guard, to hear so much noise in the light of bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

Medic sauntered into the room it all came from, all that yelling and cursing. It was brighter in here, intentionally Spy was sure; Medic always did like to see what he was doing.

The REDs, with the exception of one, were secured to a rusting metal rail that had been bolted shoulder-height to the wall with handcuffs. Some appeared to have been wounded in the conflict, with slashes and holes in their stained clothes, but Medic must have healed them.

Medic wouldn't use the Medigun on Spy, unless it was entirely necessary. He suspected it was out of nostalgia.

It was the forth RED that was making all the noise, the Scout that occasionally had the smell of his Scout on him. He'd been handcuffed hand and foot and left in front of the others on the floor, to roll around and scream threats and spit with unbridled rage. Medic would call him the disposable one, the least likely to have useful information.

Spy backed into the corner to watch. He had some idea of why Medic wanted him here, and strangely found himself needing to steel his resolve for it.

With no small measure of irritation, Medic kicked the Scout in the stomach, hard enough to knock the wind out of him and bring a moment of relative peace to the room. He then rolled him onto his back and planted his foot on his chest to keep him that way. "Better," he said casually, then looked up at the Engineer in front of him.

"What do you want?" the Engineer asked with remarkable calm.

"I don't think I really need to clarify vat you already know. I vouldn't mock your intelligence so. For this reason, I will also not assume to get anything vitout a great deal of persuasion."

They regarded one another coolly, the other captives watching on with rapt attention. Their Soldier, especially, was tense in his cuffs, as if he couldn't stop himself from a constant attempt to pull them off the bar, on the verge of frothing at the mouth in rage.

"Do what ya like t'me, I don't reckon I'll have a whole heck of a lot of informative dialogue to be givin' the Builders." The Engineer set his square jaw firmly, a clear challenge.

"You? No, no, no, I von't be doing a thing to you," Medic replied with a smile and a little chuckle. "I vill, however, allow you to listen as I make your Scout yearn for zhe mercy of death."

The Scout in question wiggled under Medic's boot, jutting out his chin defiantly. "Hey, fuck you buddy! I ain't scared of you!"

Medic ignored him.

The Engineer remained silent.

“We shall see about zhis resolve of yours.”

Medic stepped off the wriggling Scout so he could grab the red shirt in his fist and haul him off the floor, dragging him out of the room unceremoniously. The stream of profanity was constant as he kicked and struggled in vain, only succeeding in making the work of moving him more difficult.

Spy followed behind, still simply watching as Medic sent the Soldiers out there away.

They went into the room right beside the small prison for the others, much like the other, except it had a few dusty chairs, a metal bed without a mattress, and a small cabinet. Spy knew this room well. The doors to both had been left open, if the REDs even held quiet conversation Spy would hear it, perhaps Medic would as well, but they remained silent. The reverse was true, of course.

Medic threw the Scout down in the center of the floor, then brushed his hand off on his coat distastefully.

“You can do whateva ya want, Engie ain’t sayin’ nothin’ to nobody!” The Scout reminded Spy of his own again, with that brave face. But he wasn’t truly fearless, Spy could see the edges of the mask, the apprehension underneath. “’Specially not some stupid Nazi!”

“If only you knew, foolish boy. Regardless, do not be vorried about me. Be worried about mein pet.”


Medic walked over to the chair and sat down calmly, crossing his legs to settle in comfortably.

Spy took the cue to reveal himself, watching that terror blossom from shock, the Scout’s mouth hanging open speechlessly.

Spy turned away from the sight, for the moment, moving over to the bed. Unhurriedly, he shrugged out of his jacket and folded it over his arm, then set it down on the metal cross-slats. One at a time, he undid the buttons of his cuffs, and rolled up his sleeves, neatly, drawing out the moment. He could hear the Scout in the background, a little sound coming out of his throat that was so full of fear he couldn't produce anything louder than a whine. The tie was next, loosened, undone completely before he slid it off his shoulder and neatly laid it on top of the jacket.

"Don't kill him," Medic warned.

He didn't acknowledge it outwardly, as he had no intention of it. He wasn't a fool.

"I... I..." the Scout stuttered, but couldn't find any other words.

When Spy looked at him again, the Scout was trying to back out of the door, but couldn't find the coordination in the cuffs to move more than a foot or so toward the door, such a pathetic attempt Medic made no move to try and prevent it.

Spy bared his teeth and made him freeze where he was, his mouth still agape. When Spy moved again it was quickly and decisively, falling over the skinny body and wrapping him up in his limbs, one sliding around his throat without squeezing, but leaving the threat, holding him still.

Medic was just watching, the smell of blood on him, that smug look would still be on his face. Thinking Spy was just a pet, just nothing to him, just an animal. Just nothing, nothing.

Snarling, Spy buried his teeth in the fragile shoulder and felt the satisfying tear of flesh, the helpless jerk and scream of horrified pain fill his ears and drown all the rest out. He clawed at fabric and skin until that flesh was bared, more jerking as his victim realized where this was going, that he wasn't in any position to do anything to stop him. He couldn't do anything, and it filled Spy with such power. All the power here. Nobody could take it, not Medic, not now.

He used another limb to pull off the ragged remains of the clothes on the skinny body, clawing down his back, relishing how his muscles rippled and tore in response, just a little, but all his fingers at once had agonized howling fill the room.

"Don't! Please! I'mma, I'mma, stop!" he begged.

Spy licked tears off his cheeks, then bit the soft flesh there, rumbling with satisfaction.

"I got, I got..!" The screams turned into incoherent babbling, back to just those horrified sounds in his ears. He could hear every nuance of how the pitch would change with what differently he would do one thing or the next.

He loved this, he loved this. He would so love to make Medic pay for everything he'd done, no, he wouldn't kill him, he'd make it slow, and despite the shrill shrieking that came, the damage was mostly superficial.

Medic would scream so well, would he scream in German or English? Perhaps both? He had no doubt he could make him beg in one or the other, but then Spy considered he wouldn't want to let Medic say anything at all. The words had to be stopped.

Spy collected a wad of the shredded fabric and shoved it in his mouth to stop the screaming, turned it into lower, muffled sobbing. The salt in those tears must have been stinging the wounded cheek, he thought, but he wouldn’t stop crying.

He wouldn’t stop moving, either, his legs flexing against Spy as if he were trying to kick or run, as men often did when he caught them. Didn’t they understand the futility of it? No, no, it was better when they fought, at least for a little while, and this one struggled so hard.

Tracing patterns in the unmarred skin, Spy watched droplets of blood grow and turn to scarlet tracks down the shape of arms, then over ribs, the meaty flesh of his buttocks. He felt the struggling change once he got there, a different kind of frantic. Was he expecting Spy to violate him? He hadn’t known, not until then that he would.

Spy sank his teeth into the other shoulder, and drove one of his limbs inside him, feeling pulsating warmth around it. The further inside he forced it to go, the more frantically the body thrashed, the throat against his face trilled in the most extraordinary noise. He pressed up against it more, almost nuzzling, idly clawing as he tightened the grip of all his limbs, making it easier to thrust in further. So far it was like all his insides were pulsating and moving around the penetrating limb, the rhythm of his body matching the beating of his heart and the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

In time, the struggling stopped, as did the screaming. There was still wheezing, he was certainly still alive, and awake, but had stopped struggling, he’d just given up. Too overwhelmed, or simply too exhausted, or both, perhaps?

He still felt so very nice, made Spy feel swelling of pleasure from the inside out that peaked, made him twitch, then faded slowly, leaving Spy sated and without the desire to really continue. He could still smell Medic in the room, that Medic was aroused, and it was distasteful to him.

Over the shoulder full of bite-marks, Spy looked up at Medic, who nodded.

Carefully, Spy pulled out and off of the Scout, placing him gently on the concrete floor. He was covered in the Scout now, and the Scout was covered with what he’d done. So very little of the Scout’s fragile body looked the same as when he’d started, and all that bravery was long since drained. He could only weakly attempt to curl into himself defensively, his eyes wet and squeezed tightly shut.

With what was left of the Scout’s clothes, Spy cleaned himself off enough to prevent leaving a trail behind as he left.

Medic beckoned him over with a curled finger, so Spy tossed the rag down roughly and went, albeit irritably. Once he was in arm’s reach, Medic smiled and ran his hand over Spy’s dirty balaclava. “You had me concerned earlier, mein creature, I am glad to see it was but one of your indiscretions.”

Spy just looked at him, glad the fabric was there over his face. He wanted a cigarette terribly, and Medic seemed pleased enough, so he felt safe in assuming he could leave now and make a proper and futile attempt to get clean.

As soon as Medic stopped touching him, Spy collected his clothes and left in his cloak, without looking at what he’d left on the floor.

It was such times as that he wished he had real legs, so he could run.

- An Interlude: The Gulf of Mexico -

Spy twisted and stopped swimming a moment, drifting along a current. The cold, smooth movement of the water against his skin was so relaxing he felt he could almost nap there. Open water wasn't safe, however. The silvery ripples along the undersides of the sunny waves above him were only just growing darker and distant; not much further and he'd be out deeper than he'd ever gone before. Not all that far in the grand scheme of things, it was a great reminder of just how large the world really was. He, like they all did, forgot there was something outside their little warzone most of the time.

A school of tiny fish began passing by overhead, swimming in synch through the beams of filtered sunlight; Spy was tempted to go catch one, but they were swimming past faster than he could. A lot out here could out-swim him, unfortunately. His visits always made him feel strangely ordinary, as well as aware he was straying from his element. This place was beautiful and alive, and he could appreciate that, how everything on the floor below him was moving. Green weeds in the current, creatures moving over the tangled coral or rocks and silt; the danger here was often being lulled into a false sense of security.

He snapped forward and began swimming along again, straight into another school of red and orange fish. They came within a fraction of an inch of him, without actually touching him, the cluster so massive it was easier to simply avoid him than go around. Once they'd finally passed, and Spy's vision cleared, he saw why they were in such a hurry.

'Qu'est-ce que c'est?' Spy mouthed to himself; he would have said it aloud if speaking with water in his lungs worked.

A shark like that was something he'd only seen pictures of, and not recently, but it was unmistakable. The wide grinning face, the shape of the flicking tail and the gray body; it was coming in his direction and fast. Briefly, Spy mused about what he'd say to a shark, if one would be able to reason with fish. It amused him as he began swimming backwards, just fast enough to appear as if he were making a genuine escape attempt.

'Monsieur Shark, would you like to play?'

No, this one was far too serious for that.

‘Pardonez-moi, but could we come to some arrangement?'


'Two gentlemen like us need not waste our time with such games.'

Oh yes. That’s what he would say.

The pursuit continued, a clear affirmation this game was happening regardless of talking to himself. Spy waited until it was so close just another few motions in the powerful tail would carry him into arm's reach, then cloaked and shot down. The shark continued lunging toward where Spy had been, circling back in confusion, unaware of Spy waiting beneath him.

As soon as the shark passed directly over him, Spy surged back up and caught it by surprise, delighted to do so. He was already tangled around the rough, leathery body before the shark reacted with snapping and thrashing.

'But if you insist, good sir.'

It was not so easy as that, however. Clawing into the thick skin made his own hands bleed. Just holding on hurt, but he kept with it, until the shark was fighting a little less. Spy kicked himself off and cloaked again, preparing to strike again.

If only he'd not left the knife in his vest. That would dig in nicely.

The shark circled a few times, fearsomely indignant, then swam off, a little trail of blood off his side. Spy could have sworn there was a clear 'Fuck you!' in there.

Not so much of a gentleman, after all. Spy would have enjoyed a bit more of a fair fight.

The direction of home was thrumming in his skull, as he waited for the other predator to be out of sight. His limbs were all scraped and cut now, on top of a growling stomach. That meant he'd had enough exploring for one day, he supposed. He went straight up toward the waves, surfacing up to the bright afternoon. Land was barely visible, the only other thing on the horizon a dark blot he assumed was a ship.

He was all alone, in the middle of no-where. And he basked in the feeling as he headed back.

There was no telling what being gone a whole day would have him miss; more of what Medic was doing to RED.

Spy grimaced and darted back into the water.

- BLU Base -

The REDs had been silent for over an hour, just staring forward at nothing. The silence was so deep Spy had to wonder if they knew he was there, if they noticed his entrance or the added breathing across the room. They didn't seem to react to it, or perhaps thought it was their imagination; they were busy waiting for the Scout to come back, same as Spy.

Medic was taking care of their basic needs, he was careful about that, but they'd been kept on their feet, and it showed. They all looked exhausted, if otherwise untouched.

The Sniper, especially, seemed as if he'd aged ten years in a week; but he was no less alert. He began eyeing the corner Spy lurked in; so one of them had noticed. It would be that one, an experienced sharpshooter was always so very good at noticing. He looked so accusatory and focused, but he didn't say a word.

Spy was fairly certain they were all thinking the same thing; the Scout should have been dumped back on the floor some time ago.

“Jus’ going to stand there all the damn time?” Sniper’s voice was low and rough with disuse, and he coughed briefly and violently after the words came out. “’Spose it’s a stupid question,” he muttered more clearly.

They all followed Sniper’s stare toward Spy, looking around the corner to make out if there was someone there or not, going tense as they did. The stalwart Engineer pressed his lips more tightly together, as if a Spy’s very presence might loosen his tongue.

It was time to leave. He felt far too tempted to reply.

Spy glided out and went straight for Medic’s office; the BLUs not on guard in the basement were all drunk, the air was saturated with the smell and sound of it as he passed through the halls. This different, more reckless kind of loudness had begun settling over the base more often than not since they became so sure they’d beaten the REDs for good, whether it was true or not. Medic was too distracted to care about them.

He cautiously pushed the door open, and went inside. The immaculate nature of the place was disturbed by the blood splashed on the table the Scout was strapped to, an array of instruments in a tray, on the floor, on the Scout’s skin as healing blue washed over any injuries Medic had caused.

Medic looked up at the closing door. “Lock it,” he snapped.

Spy did so, decloaking as it engaged with a click in his fingers; they were still sore from his excursion.

He tried to tell if the Scout was conscious or not, but couldn't immediately discern it.

"Now, I'm glad you're here." Medic touched the Scout's face a bit, just as much red on his gloves as that skin. The Scout stirred then, just enough to show he was awake. "I zhink you should be acquainted again."

Oh, he would like that, wouldn't he? Spy took pause a moment, glancing between Medic and the Scout, who’d gone absolutely rigid.

“Non. L'Ingénieur ne parlera jamais.”

Medic narrowed his eyes, burning fury into Spy. “You seem to vant it to be you on that table instead. What makes you think I’m interested in your opinion of zhe Engineer?”

“Peut-être que vous devriez,” he replied flatly.

The BLUs were a slovenly mess because of Medic indulging himself in this ceaseless torment. What pleasure could Medic get out of tormenting someone already broken? It was disgusting and pointless and Spy was done with it. He would have put the Scout out of his misery a long time ago.


His body sank down on the floor against his will, but he could still snarl up at the man.

"If you didn't come in to assist me, vhat are you doing here?" he asked in a dangerous tone. "Answer."

Spy didn't have an answer to give. He shouldn’t even be in the base. His judgment had become… questionable. It was disturbing.

"Ungrateful wretch," Medic hissed, grabbing a bloody scalpel off the tray.

He couldn't move, but he could grab Medic's arm before the blade connected, inevitably leading to another of the words stopping him from doing that, too. He could only watch it sink into his flesh. At least these clothes already needed replacement, he thought, almost laughing at the thought.

Medic left the scalpel buried in his shoulder, where the pain rose and throbbed, but Spy didn’t make a sound; he did let himself wince and grimace when Medic turned away.

The Scout had rolled his head toward him, he’d been watching all of this, Spy realized, catching his gaze. Still drugged with something, the Scout’s eyes were glassy and dilated, his expression bemused. His brows twitched like he couldn’t quite make them furrow.

Medic ended the moment by stepping between them, murmuring at the Scout as he unstrapped him and sat him up, then cleaned him up and made him drink some water.

Spy watched, feeling the pain radiate more and more strongly.

At least for the moment, the Scout had been rendered so docile Medic left him loose right beside a variety of potential weapons, then turned his back. He must have known Spy wouldn’t bother warning him about any danger, but there wasn’t any; the Scout merely sat there, staring blankly at Spy.

Medic went over to his desk, rummaged about for something, going back to Spy after he seemed to find what he was looking for. Finally, he let him move again, waving him out.

“Apparently you have no reason to be here. So leave.”

Spy grunted and his limbs twitched as he yanked out the scalpel. Bastard.

He left.

- RED Base -

"No good," Cockbag grumbled, slamming shut the fuse box. Scout wasn't surprised, he'd been watching him try and fail all day to figure out why the alarms hadn't gone off during the attack. Just like the day before, and the day before that. He was no electrician, but he'd taken personal responsibility for not alerting his team before he had. It wasn't his fault; it was sabotage or a really badly timed coincidence. "Bollocks."

There was enough guilt to go around the remains of the RED team. The first thing Heavy had said was an apology for getting caught in the flames of the BLU Pyro. Medic felt he'd let them all down with poor leadership. And Scout... he knew it wasn't his fault, sure, but he couldn't get over being absent from everything going down.

On top of everything, Scout was pretty sure that Spy had disabled the alarms. It was a Spy thing to do, any of them, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He hated the idea that Spy had made this worse. He hated this. Everything. It was like they were sitting ducks just waiting for BLU to finish them off for the laughs.

Cockbag’s eyes roved around, before he began ambling toward his nest.

Time to settle in for the night.

Medic and Heavy were inside, clinging to shreds of normalcy.

Scout and Cockbag lived in the Sniper nests waiting for the end to come.

Good Sniper’s nest Scout left more or less intact, the extra shirt on the floor and the working half of his bench left untouched out of respect. Scout had been using the other side to eat, and all of that, because it seemed the right thing to do. Just being there with an eye out felt like the right thing to do, to keep watch where Good Sniper couldn’t. Back to the guilt Scout carried like a newfound friend.

He kept thinking about the REDs that got caught, but tonight he settled in the plastic chair with a creak and thought about Demo, the one that they’d so recently buried behind the base with all the other bodies. He’d filled up notebook upon notebook in his workshop with drawings and crazed theories about Yetis and Bigfoots and the Loch Ness monster, but he’d been just as convinced there was no way BLU had made a monster of their own. It made no sense. He’d been completely insane. Scout missed him.

And Good Sniper.

And Other Scout.

And Spy.

Scout ate stale bread and tinned sardines for dinner, but the rest of his time spent into the night was by that window, just sitting. They kept off any lights in an attempt to make BLU think there wasn’t anyone left, so the BLU base looked that much brighter in the moonlight. The ruins even looked kinda pretty, all blue with the silvery light outlining the buildings and electrical lines. Real pretty. And lonely.

- BLU Base -

“Aren’t any ankle biters runnin’ around,” the Sniper murmured, as Spy dropped his cloaking device.

“Nothing for me to do, cher. Even Spies can like company, can zhey not?”


The Sniper wasn’t perched at his window, but on a crate, leaning against the wall with a bottle in his hand. It was dark, but there was a lamp with a rusting metal shade in the corner giving off a yellow light, mostly at the floor and a cluttered table laden with a makeshift ashtray and dusty paperback adventure novels. He didn’t comment further, but reached down beside the crate to pull up an unopened bottle of cheap Russian vodka, which he tossed easily at Spy.


“Got plenty. BLU does like to keep us happy,” he said dryly.

If by ‘happy’ he meant ‘satisfied enough to keep in line’ it was very true. The same could be said of RED and their own private army, so far as Spy had seen.

It was strange to be visiting Sniper without a real reason. His home just felt empty and what he’d said was true; there wasn’t anything for him to do. He sat down on a crate on the opposite wall of the small room and opened up the bottle, surreptitiously sniffing it before he took a drink. He wrinkled his nose a bit, but still took a cautious sip.

It tasted terrible and burned down his throat, but before long, he understood why it seemed both sides were enamored with the stuff.

They sat in silence until he worried his disguise as the first Spy would fail if he got any more impaired. Spy then stood, and Sniper looked out from under the brim of his tooth-banded hat at him.

“Keep the bottle,” Sniper said. “Seems you need it.”

“My thanks.”

- RED Base –

A loud thumping sound like someone falling down the stairs to Good Sniper's nest startled Scout out of a light sleep, his shotgun in his hand before he could even register alarm. There was a shuffling and a... laugh? Then another thumping he could feel in the shaky wood of the nest. What the fuck?

He crept across the floor, the gun held out, looking down warily.

"Spy?" he hissed. "What the fuck are you doing?"

As a complete contradiction to how Spy always ever was, he was sprawled down the steps clumsily, sniggering to himself as he made another attempt to get up. Was that... booze?

"Are you fuckin' wasted man, what the fuck?" Scout dropped the gun and went down to help him, grabbing the hand that wasn't holding a mostly-full bottle of liquor in it. The smell of it was all over Spy, splashed on his shirt and his breath was laden with it as Spy ignored the help to nuzzle Scout's face. "Cut it out, lemme get you up, huh?"

Scout was happy to see him, certainly, but... what?

"Mon cher, eet is zo good to see you!" Spy told him, making every effort to thwart their journey up the stairs by feeling Scout up all over. "I missed you, zhere is nobody, *hic*, but you, oui?"

"I missed ya, too, dumbass, are you tryin' to die?" He kept his voice down, hoping Spy would get the message to do it, too. It was late, but Cockbag wasn't all that far away... "C'mon, almost there."

They finally made it up to the floor, where Spy promptly knocked Scout on his ass and ran his tentacles all over him, taking another swig before he went back to nuzzling, was he... giggling?

"I 'ave never been drunk before," he slurred. "Eet eez fun!"


"Sorry, sorry, mmm."

Scout grabbed the bottle away from Spy and took his own deep gulp, then set it as far away as he could.

"What the hell's going on?" Spy wasn't supposed to be a stupid sloshed mess, it just... it was just wrong!

Spy laughed again and gave him a sloppy kiss, reaching under Scout's shirt. One of his tentacles was teasing his cock through his pants and making it... a lot harder to be the responsible one. Well... if Cockbag hadn't come over to investigate yet... they should be alright. Yeah. Spy worked one of his tentacles into Scout's waistband, but Scout stopped him right there.

"No more wreckin' my clothes, man, I'll get 'em off, keep your pants on!"

Spy thought that was hilarious. He laughed like something out of a cartoon, but when he started snorting Scout couldn’t handle it.

Scout laughed, too, drank another swig, and threw Spy down on his back. “You laugh like a retard!”

More snorting. Spy ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “Zhere ees nozzing wrong with eet!”

“Shut up.” Scout cut off the stupid laughing with his lips, turning it into little happy moans. Spy was so enthusiastic he was cutting Scout’s lips with his teeth, but he didn’t care. A bit awkwardly, and with some difficulty pushing Spy’s roaming tentacles out of the way, Scout managed to unbuckle his pants and get them around his knees with his underwear; Spy managed the rest, amazingly without ripping any of the fabric. Scout then went for Spy’s waistcoat (he didn’t have the jacket or the balaclava on) and the shirt, hastily unbuttoning them, opening up the clothes to touch Spy’s bare chest. He was wearing Dead Spy’s gun holster, too, the barrel kept tapping heavily against the floor.

It was annoying. So another five minutes of groping and struggling later, Scout had all of Spy’s clothes off, along with the rest of his own.

He’d missed Spy so much. He had all these questions to ask, and they were nagging at his brain, but he just wanted to touch him. He wanted to feel like shit was normal again.

Spy squirmed with delight when Scout bit his neck, sucking his way up to Spy’s ear to bite that, too, and back down again, then under his chin. Spy never had stubble, for whatever reason, Scout always assumed Spy was older than he was, but... maybe he wasn’t. Right now he looked like a horny teenager with tentacles, heavy-lidded and sloppy about everything.

Scout wrapped his right hand around his cock and squeezed up against Spy’s belly, thrusting into it as he continued sucking and biting across Spy’s collarbone, claws digging into his buttcheek, but not all that hard; just hard enough.

Spy wasn’t just wrapped around him, he was tangled up like slippery knots, and he kept laughing into Scout’s skin as he struggled to get himself to cooperate. Predictably, he wanted to spend a little time with Scout’s feet, gently scratching over Scout’s calves as he nipped a toe.

It left Scout leaning back a little, experimentally licking the end of a tentacle, the part he held up when he walked around, so it just tasted like him. Another swig later and Scout’s mouth was running away from him.

“I beat off to thinkin’ about you suckin’ my dick yesterday,” he said, then kinda wished he hadn’t. “Fuckin’ fangs,” he muttered.

Spy practically slithered up Scout’s legs at that, hovering meaningfully over Scout’s groin. “I ‘ave done eet before,” he purred, grinning lewdly. “I could, for you.”

For a fraction of a second, Scout wondered how Spy ever would have done that. Then he knew and groaned irritably at himself, he didn’t want to think about BLU Medic when he was fucking Spy.

Scout wrapped his hand around his cock and squeezed up and down it a few times, it felt good just considering a blowjob from Spy. Teeth and all. “Yeah, that’d be fucking great. If I ain’t gonna lose it.”

“And ‘ere I zhought you liked zhe danger, non?”

Spy smirked and shook his head, then leaned down and laid down a long, wet lick, that ran over Scout’s fingers before the head of his cock, and it was good, Scout was already unable to hold back a moan. He chuckled a little at the sound and began teasing with his lips.

Scout could feel the smooth, closed face of Spy’s teeth; that felt good, too. He let go and took hold of one of Spy’s tentacles, instead, stroking it like that was a cock, too, only one that was moving in his grip.

“Oh fuck that’s good!” Scout jerked and lightly grabbed Spy’s hair, feeling hot all over and like he couldn’t get enough of what Spy was doing down there ever. Nobody had a tongue that nimble, it just wasn’t possible. “Goddamn.”

A pleased sound rumbled in Spy’s throat as he sucked up and down the shaft, lingering over the head every few trips. He was grinning, even while he did it; Scout couldn’t take his eyes off him. Spy’s breath was getting faster, too, he could feel it.

Scout was getting close; it looked like Spy was faster.

Before all that much longer, Spy pushed his face against Scout’s stomach and moaned, squeezing and twitching all around him.

“God that’s fuckin’ hot.” Scout rolled them over so he was on top and thrust against Spy, giving himself a helping hand.

He kept eye contact the whole time, watched Spy watching him back until he came on his spots.

Drained, Scout immediately rolled onto the floor beside him and panted, tentacles still twined gently around his legs.

Spy didn’t seem to care about the come on his stomach, he moved onto Scout’s chest and rested his head there on one of his arms, a stupid grin on his face. “J’adore, mon petit idiot de Scout” he sighed, reaching up to run his fingers through Scout’s sweaty hair. “Zhere eez nozzing so nice.”

“Than fuckin’? Not usually.”

“Non, you.” Spy pulled Scout’s hand over in his, kissing his knuckles with loud smacking sounds.

Scout laid there and just enjoyed more affection than he’d ever seen out of Spy, but it couldn’t last forever. There was more than just them going on.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

Spy closed his eyes and turned into his arm, still on top of Scout.

“What is it, man? Fuck’s goin’ on?”

“I’m losing my mind,” Spy said, muffled a bit, but clear enough. “’E makes it zo ‘ard to keep away from all of zhem! Eet isn’t my business but I cannot ‘elp eet!”

“What? Who does? Medic?”

“Oui. Non, non, zee ozzer Scout.”

Scout couldn’t help but stiffen a little. “Is he okay?”

Spy pulled off him and moved away, slumping back against the cot. He claimed back the bottle on his way, drinking deeply before he responded.

“Non. I ‘urt ‘im and ‘e iz not okay.”

“What? Spy, what... what the fuck did you do?”

“What do you zhink I did, hm?” Spy couldn’t look at him now, keeping his twitchy gaze anywhere else in the room. “All alive, I ‘elp kill zhem slow, mais je n’fais... I never cared before.”

“You aren’t making any sense.”

“Eet is your fault,” Spy whispered. “I never...”

Drunk as he was, Spy still surprised the fuck out of Scout by leaping on top of him, gripping his hand around his windpipe, all his sharp teeth bared menacingly.

“I hesitate, I act a fool, I bring Medic down on my ‘ead all because of you!” Spy snarled and wrapped tight around Scout’s body, squeezing painfully. “Zhese zings I do to zhe ozzer Scout, you would ‘ate me to know! Zhey are my purpose!”

Scout couldn’t breathe. He grabbed Spy’s hand and tried to tug it off, feebly kicking against him.

Just like that, Spy let go and was back against the bed, clumsily slamming it back a little too hard as he moved there, pulling all his tentacles up close as he nursed the alcohol some more. He looked like he was going to cry, the only thing quelling unease and disgust in Scout. Yeah, he cared about Spy, but his teammates...

Catching his breath, Scout got up on his knees and scooted over, resting his hand on top of one the tentacles, as close as he dared get just then. “Spy, where are they?”

“Zee basement. Away from all zee drunken fool like me.”

He didn’t want to hate Spy. He didn’t want to be angry at him. But all these awful images of him doing things to Other Scout and everyone else flooding through his head, making him want to push Spy down the stairs and right back out of the nest.

“You gotta help me get them back.”

“Non. I can’t. Medic, ‘e won’t let me kill zee Scout, ‘ow could I get zhem out?”

“You ain’t fuckin’ serious about killing Other Scout.”

“I would.” Spy looked confused, like he couldn’t understand why Scout was getting really angry now.

“Get out,” Scout snapped. He grabbed around him for Spy’s clothes and threw them at him, flinging the gun especially hard against his chest. “You sick fuck, get out.”

Spy clumsily held them to his chest, frowning at Scout like he suddenly didn’t understand a word he was saying. He looked from his gun, to Scout, then out the window, and back again a few times.

“Didn’t you fuckin’ hear me BLU?”

“I want to ‘elp,” he replied, a helpless look on his face that made Scout want to regret saying any of that. “I can’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Spy stared back at him a moment, then he began untangling the gun holster from his clothes, and hunting through his pockets awkwardly, until he pulled something out in his hand. With both these things, he crept forward, then placed them on the floor in front of Scout.

The other thing turned out to be a Spy watch. “Zhiss, eet will cloak you. Zhe gun, stronger zhan yours. But I don’t want to ‘urt you.”

Some of Scout’s anger ebbed away. Not all of it.

“Don’t ‘ate me, s’il te plaît.”

Scout let all that sink in. Spy had given him the information, and the means he needed to potentially rescue his teammates. Whatever he’d done... he looked really broken up about it. He wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing Spy look so vulnerable, it wasn’t like him at all.

“I don’t hate you.”

Spy smiled weakly, just briefly, then moved closer to kiss Scout gently on the cheek.

“You should get outta here.”

“Oui.” Spy pulled his clothes on without bothering to do them up, just letting them hang on his shoulders.

“I’ll go tonight.”

Spy nodded, picking the bottle back up as he began moving towards the door. “Be careful.”

“Just go.”

And Spy was gone.

Scout was left with mixed feelings and no idea how to use a cloak.

He put on the watch and looked it over; there was a series of glowing bars instead of a face, but it still had a winding knob. Scout frowned, pressed on the screen, then the knob.

It was startling when his ears filled with a ‘Whoosh!’ and he suddenly couldn’t see anything but the bars, not even himself, just the floor and the wall behind where his arm should be.


Experimentally, he pushed it again, and came back into view. Then again, and again.

Scout realized he was wasting time and put the gun holster on. He grabbed Good Sniper’s kukri for good measure.

The experimenting with how far he could go without stopping to let it recharge he did at the same time he went into the base proper to collect Engie and Other Scout’s pistols, hastily shoving them in his satchel with his own. They’d have to do, he didn’t know where anyone else’s guns were and didn’t have the time to look.

His heart hammered in his chest so bad, but he didn’t wake up anyone else, just left. Medic would try to stop him, Heavy would agree. Cockbag would insist on coming with him, but there was only one watch.
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