He was chasing ghosts. That much he was sure of. That's why it was an impossibility. A maddening strive towards nothing. A bitter defeat that he would never admit. He would keep searching and fighting. Just keep moving along, heavy with denial, sick with animosity. Search to the ends of the world. He would not stop until he found him. Justice would be served. Piping hot or steel cold. It made no difference.
"You're the new recruit? The spy, right?"
And he knew lady justice would not betray him.
"I am he."
"How do we know we can trust him? The last one just up and disappeared. Just poof! Gone. Just like that. Took the intel and now look where we are? Some old crappy bunker in the middle of no where! Are you kidding me? This is bullshit. I don't like moving and I swear to God if I have to-"
"Scout, enough."
Grumbling the young man teetered on the edge of a desk, arms crossed. He wasn't the only one with concern. A sea of worried and suspicious faces greeted the new recruit.
Amaury, however, only smiled, hands spreading wide in mock innocence. "It is true. You can't trust me." He shrugged, unconcerned with their sour faces of reply. "But you will."
"Let me tell you something you masked-freaked, you're all nothing but back-stabbing no good-"
"Scout, will you shut the fuck up all ready?" a uniformed man snapped. It was apparent from the way he carried himself that he was military. Scratch that, ex-military. He seemed to have an explosive temper. The kind of temper that couldn't get you far in the professional world. That's why he was a part of a handful of misfits and not working his way up the military ladder. Amaury speculated he was discharged. Dishonorably. But he refused to acknowledge it. A leader among dogs, and dogs without chains are dangerous ones. He had authority issues. That's why he had to be in control. "You can call me Captain. Because that's what I am. You report to me. And only me. And if you don't report to me, consider yourself as good as dead."
Amaury blew out a cloud of smoke, blue eyes blinking slowly, one arm tucked under the other. Lazy defiance, but it was defiance. The captain eyes twitched, mouth curling. He was like a ticking time-bomb. Veins pulsating, red-faced, fists clenched. No wonder the other Spy had split. All this stress was bad for the skin.
"Everyone. Out." Captain snarled. The tension was tangible, but the room stood as one and slowly disappeared in striking silence. Not bad for a man commanding over a dozen.
"They respect you," Amaury said.
"You sound surprised."
The spy shrugged. "Mindless flock."
"Disciplined soldiers," the other corrected. "Do you have a name?"
"Codex."
The solider laughed. "Typical. You spies and your secrecy." Hands locked behind the small of his back, back straight, shoulders squared the man began a slow circle around the sitting spy. "I was too lenient with my last rat. I let him have run of the house, access to anything he needed to keep our base safe. And how did he repay me? Wiped our database clean and disappeared in a heartbeat. With no real name or face to follow he's nothing but a ghost to us now."
Sounds familiar. Amaury flicked his cigarette to his feet and snuffed the life out of it. "Where is this going, Monsieur Captain?"
"Show me your face." Amaury hardly blinked as a result of his surprise, but he did not move or speak. "If I know your face I will always be able to tell if you're really who you are. That no one has taken your disguise. It will also put a face to a soldier. I care about my men. The one's I can believe in."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You can't," the man smiled hard, but there was no warmth. Amaury felt himself sighing, but he was grinning inwardly. "But you will. Mask off." Touchè.
Amaury studied those unblinking eyes, that hard half-grin. The man demanded respect, demanded that his soldiers trusted him. Amaury had seen good men and he had seen bad men. He had seen men who like him, could con God himself. This soldier was not one of those men. He may be a little unorthodox but he was not crooked. And if he proved otherwise, a knife in the back was an easy solution to any betrayal.
"I think I like you," Amaury admitted. He reached up with one hand and slid off the mask. The captain straightened, giving him one long look.
"Put your mask on, kid." Amaury complied, watching the other as he marched purposefully towards the door. The solider stopped. "Oh, and, pick up your cigarette. If I see another one on the floor you'll be on a clean-up duty for a month."
The door slammed.
Amaury grinned.
A/N: Scout is just too cute of a name. It had to stay. :'D
Another note, I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing. I've been wanting to write Team Fortress 2 junk forever but I just don't know how I want the setting. I think mindlessly running back and forth and stealing checkpoints or intel is a terrible idea for a story. No "respawns" or "game" like settings.
I'm going for a sort of... underground society. Maybe terrorist-like. Sort of like, this team thinks they're anti-terrorists, the other team think they're anti-terrorists. Both sides hold disagreements, neither side is funded by governments but governments turn a blind eye. I don't know yet. If I continue to write it I'll think better.
There are females in this story. I don't think many will play a huge role... But a fair warning. No Mary Sues. Blah blah.
This will probably somehow work out to be yaoi. I don't know how I manage it but I always do. But if it does go down a romantic path that's where it's going. If it's not your cup of tea, well... it's mine. So get use to the flavor or move on.
But, thank you for reading and I love feedback. If you like the idea of this and where it's going, please let me know. I write for you guys and I like to know what y'all are thinking.