The RED scout was hyped up on BONK!, and panicking. Not a good combination. He fired his pistol haphazardly, trying to maybe deter the BLU-clad monster that laughed maniacally, brandishing a homemade flamethrower. The flames licked at his nose and arms, and he backed up as fast as he could go. He took a moment to marvel at his misfortune. Out of scattergun ammo, low on health, and now he runs into the pyro? He took out the sandman and knocked off a quick ball, hoping he could buy himself some time, but the flames torched the ball and the bat before either could touch the maniac. The pyro chuckled. Scout cringed at the muffled laughter, realizing that this meant he was done for. The pyro took out her flare gun, deciding the scout was too fast for the short range of the scrapped together flamethrower. Suddenly, however, she seemed to get an idea and switched back to the flamethrower. The scout backpedaled as fast as he could, still trying to empty his pistol into the asbestos-lined suit. The pyro stopped suddenly, and simply waved. The scout didn't stop running, thinking it was a trap, and suddenly heard a deep, silky voice behind him.
"Peekaboo," murmured the voice, and scout felt a sharp, intense pain in his spine. A second later, he felt nothing. The BLU spy looked haughtily at the dead body in front of him. "Oh dear," he said, sheathing his trademark butterfly knife, "it seems I've made quite a mess." He took out his near dead cigarette and stomped it out on the back of scout's head. When he took out his disguise kit to grab himself a new one, he noticed a golden lighter held up towards him, the pyro's special lighter.
"A fine job, my friend," praised the spy. "A fine job indeed." The pyro lit the spy's cigarette, and merely grunted. Perhaps she said something, but it was impossible to tell. She held out her hand, and the spy shook it firmly, making as close to eye contact as he could through the gas mask. Without a word, the two went their separate ways, the spy cloaking without a trace.