Silent.
The perfect word to describe a spy.
The perfect word to describe me.
9 targets. A fast talker with even faster legs, a psycho armed with a rocket launcher and a callous disregard for safety, a monster who aspires to burn the world, a one-eyed drunk with plenty of explosives, a fat bastard armed with a minigun who he calls 'Sasha', an engineer with killer toys, a doctor who can heal serious wounds within seconds, a sniper who likes to collect his own excrement in jars, and another one of me.
First, the monster. He can end my career in seconds. I slip on a special watch. I run at him, shooting away with a trusty revolver. My flesh burns as the flare hits me, but I endure it for a few seconds before 'dying'. The monster holds his weapon in the air, celebrating on a successful hunt.
One bullet to the brain.
Next comes the engineer. His toys devastate the battlefield. Thankfully, some reserve engineering produced a sapper that I now hold. But what is the right time to use it? I wait in a corner. He leaves to get some supplies. After tricking the dispenser to restore the bullets I wasted, I get to sapping. Then, I become the monster as the engineer comes, with wrench in hand, to save his buildings.
Tough luck.
The buildings are gone, but the medic can still push the team forward. He's more cautious. Probably dealt with his fair share of spies. I play on his paranoia. Make noises, fake my death, miss shots, drive him to the brink. He breaks, firing away at everything in the room, save for me in the next. He tires down, I approach as a wounded demoman.
Thanks for the overheal.
Good time as ever to confront the heavy weapons man. He's a slow target, but his minigun could easily shed me to tiny, tiny pieces. Without a medic or a dispenser, he's alone and he checks every room for me, running back and forth to find his man. With the extra vitality wearing down, I grinned as I rushed at him, firing shot after shot. He hits me good, but thankfully, I died.
A moment later, so did he.
The sniper was next. The only question was this. Did he wear a shield or wield a jar? Both could seriously stop me in my plans, as the wooden shield would stun me if I tried to stab him and the jar (As mentioned above) will reveal my ghost. I peeked around the corner into the sniper nest to see a bit of luck, he wore the crocodile shield.
It didn't save him, of course.
5 down, 4 to go. The others weren't as important during war, but this was business, so they had to go. I sought after the cyclops, knife in hand. He probably wised up and set up some traps around the base, making sure that no guest could come in uninvited. Indeed, the spikes were set all over, with the cyclops in a corner. A perfect spot to take me down. I let myself be seen. He charged with a mighty cry, seeking my head. I gracefully stepped away, nicking his arm. I looked into the single eye, seeing only anger. He intended to take me with him.
Shame I could survive the spikes.
The soldier was an easy task, just as long he didn't aim his launcher at the ground and jumped. I needed to time this so he didn't do that. My special watch was starting to fizz from overuse. I decided to switch to a different one to save it. Faking my death was useful for infiltration, (especially when the enemy camps out near our base) but I already got inside without much problems, so the watch could take a break. The soldier stood in one place, turning every so often to look for shadows without bodies.
Shame. I was right there the entire time.
The last two could be problematic. The scout was a fast runner, and weariness was starting to take effect on me. I had two choices. Shoot or attempt to stab him in the back. Both plans would be hard to pull off. Maybe next time I'll start with the scout, so he's less jittery and less random on his movements. The spy is after me! He's going to kill me! His face showed only true fear. Good. My plan was simple. One shot, to harm rather than to kill, and disappear. Wait for him to find a medkit...
...only one left.
Spy vs Spy. I used to read that as a kid. Never rooted for one side, just whoever got the upper hand and looked cool doing it. Black vs White now became Red vs Blue later in life. Now, I had a good reason to support one side. To get paid. And my final obstacle to my paycheck stood there, smiling, as if he waited for me to finish up. Gun in one hand, knife in the other, though the latter was hidden in his pocket. But I could tell. He spoke about the briefcase behind him, which apparently contains information on the rocket that the company is planning to launch. Something about the truth, sharing a bigger check.
Like I really care.
I dived to the ground, emptying my revolver of three bullets. He saw it coming and got behind the desk, with one bullet hitting the briefcase. Now, it was payday or death. It was just the two of us, one behind a desk, the other in the front. Neither had the advantage. I could easily be killed by a surprise pop-up, and he had no friends to call upon for help. One shot could ultimately end this. I walked slowly around the desk, gun at the ready. My steps echoed throughout the room. I hear the sound of a gun being cocked.
I fired one shot. He got up and fired nothing, as a second hit him square in the head.
All in a day's work.