Starring in this cap:

Demoman: Douglas MacCroy

Spy: Jaime Chevalier

Pyro: Deirdre Callaghan

9.45 PM, Edinburgh.

"Now lads, I don't want to hear any more complaining! It's bed time, and no more delay!" boomed the black man, looking at his two kids as they jumped on their beds.

"And don't try the puppy eyes again! It won't work, or my name's not Douglas MacCrory!" he added, looking at the two. The childrens, a boy and a girl, settled down on their beds, looking at him with pleading eyes.

"Ouh, but daaaad, we are not tired!" exclaimed the girl, pouting her lips.

"I don't care missy, it's past your bed time!"

"Can you tell us a story? Please daddy?" asked the little boy, sitting on the bed and looking with pleading eyes at his father. The man huffed, sitting on the bed.

"You promise to go to sleep for good if I tell you a bed time story?"

"We promise!" exclaimed the kids, smiling and covering themselves in their sheets, looking up as the man scratched his head, smiling.

"Very well lads, what story do you want to hear? Pinocchio? The sleeping chick?"

"But those are for babies!" whined the girl, glaring at her father. "Tell us about your job before you met mom!"

The black man frowned, scratching his short beard, before sighing. "Very well kids, but after this, off to sleep!" The children nodded, looking with smiles at their dad.

"Now lads, you have to know that when your daddy was younger, in the new world, there were two elf twins, a red elf and a blue elf, fighting for a piece of land that their father had discovered a long time before. They raised their army of little trolls, and began to fight, for years, years and years."

"Elf and trolls? Daddy, we asked for a story that isn't for little kids!" whined the boy.

"I'm the narrator here boy. Now, hush!"

The boy pouted, while Douglas cleared his throat. "Where was I… yes, the war. Eternal war, you see, with powerful magic and all this stuff." The boy huffed, while the girl mimed a gag.

"Now kids, just six years ago, some strange creatures, dressed in green and yellow, tried to interfere in the war, trying to steal the land from the twins. So they decided, just for a short amount of time, to make an alliance, and create an awesome group to deal with this devious threat, without their army's knowledge. So they decided to call a group of nine humans to deal with those green and gold creatures… and your old pa was one of them!"

"So… you want to tell us that elves hired you?" asked the girl, raising an eyebrow.

"Damn right kid. Your daddy was the greatest and coolest of them! The demoman, was my code name! Yeah, I was a good one with the bombing!" exclaimed Douglas.

"So, your dad and his companions fought, in exchange for a promised fortune, against the evil creatures, beating the crap out of them. Yeah, we fought lads, without caring about our injuries, until one night, after a year, we finally banished the three leaders of those creatures, sending them all back into oblivion!"

The two kids shared a glance, looking at the excited face of their father.

"And then, the two elven praised the nine men with a lot of gold, and a briliant future. I returned here to my hometown, I met your mother, and you know the rest. More or less." He raised his eyes, looking at the two: they were laying under their sheets, pretending to be asleep. The scottish black man smiled, standing up and walking oout of the room, turning off the light.

"You were telling them your crazy story?" asked with a smirk a blonde woman, turning away from a small television's screen.

"It's not crazy woman, it's the pure and honest truth!"

"It's the same thing you said when you tried to hit on me." she replied, still smirking. "You just didn't used all the fairy things with me."

"I have to cool it down a little for the kids, don't I?" answered Douglas. "I'm going to fetch a drink, and then I'll join you, wife." He walked off, singing thefor a beer advertisement, while his wife giggled a little.

Outside, in the dark alley in front of the building where Douglas home was, was parked a dark van. It's windows were open, and two men were looking up towards the building, without a care for the freezing air. They had their face protected by scarves and pairs of shades, while their elegant suits, mostly covered by black raincoats, was striped with green and golden colors.

"So, this is the place?" asked the one in the driver's seat, looking towards one of the building's windows with a set of binoculars. His companion nodded, consulting some paperwork.

"Yes. Douglas MacCroy: he works now for a demolition company, but the boss is sure that he is the VIOLET demoman."

"Fine with me." Grunted the driver, lowering the binoculars and raising instead a sniper rifle, aiming at the black man's head through the window of his kitchen, where he was drinking from a bottle of Guinness. "Now… steady…" he murmured, stroking the trigger… and the demoman dashed off. "Fuck!" he spatted, lowering the rifle. "Now he have to be distracted?"

Inside the apartment, Douglas ran over to the phone, which was ringing like crazy. He raised the telephone, panting. "Do you know the time, lad? What the hell, my kids are trying to sleep. Now, I don't know who in the blue hell are you, but you better have a good reason to call my home at this hour in the night!"

"Je parle avec le demoman?" asked a conceited, panting voice on the other side of the phone. Douglas blinked.

"Spy…?"

-oOo-

Forthy-five minutes earlier: Paris, France.

"My, isn't it beutifull out here?" asked the red-haired girl, looking at the moon behind the silhouette of the Tour Eifelle, her hands placed on the railing of the terrace. The slim young man just hugged her from behind, kissing her neck.

"Je pensais that could be a fine view for our sixth anniversary, ma chèrie." He said, stroking the long flaming hair of the irish girl. She purred, pressing her head against his chest. She was a head shorter than him, after all.

"It's amazing. Thank you so much for this hotel room, Jaime. Well, for everything, I have to say…" she murmured, turning and hugging the man.

"Do not even mention it, Deirdre…" he murmured, raising gently her face, while leaning slowly towards her lips…

The phone rang in an extremly loud manner, throwing the mood out of the window. The man sighed, leaving the girl and walking towards the phone. "Pardon me a moment to send them to l'Enfer and switch off the cell.." He said, walking towards the little crystal table where the black phone was ringing. The girl smiled and nodded, returning to look at the city.

He raised the phone, looking at the display, where the script "private number" was flashing. The frenchman frowned, before pressing the green button and putting the phone to his ear. "Pret? Qui est ce?" he asked cautiously.

"Am I talking to the VIOLET spy?" replied a cold male voice from the other side. Jaime stiffed.

"Who is there?" he asked again.

"That's not important for now, you can just call me The Undertaker. It's a fitting name for me. Now listen up boy: you are in danger. The family found you."

The frenchmen stiffened even more. The girl on the terrace noted it and walked in with an interrogative look on her face. "What does the family want with me?"

"Vengeance, I presume. But don't think to be so important, they are tracking down all the VIOLET team. You have to hide. They are inside your hotel right now. Three of them."

"Wha… why are you helping me?"

"That's not relevant right now. They are two floors down. HIDE!" ordered the voice, before hanging up. Jaime blinked, before grabbing the girl by one arm and pulling her towards the bathroom.

"Jaime, what are you doing? What's happening?" she asked, scared.

"Hide here. Don't get out for any reason!" he ordered, before closing the bathroom door on her face. "I need a knife now…" he murmured, moving towards the little kitchen of the room. But before he could reach it, the door cracked open, as three men entered in the room.

"You there, freeze!" ordered one of them, pointing a gun towards the frenchmen, who froze in place as ordered.

"Wow, that was easy!" exclaimed the second one, who had a shotgun in his hands: he was probably the one that had smashed the door, judging from his mass.

"May I ask what you gentlemen want in my room?" asked politely Jaime, taking a little step towards the kitchen. The one with the gun stroked the trigger.

"The family's bosses send their regards, Chevalier."

"Wait a second, don't kill him now! We have to discover if he's had some other contact." Exclaimed the third one, finally entering the room and darting his little mousy face around, sniffing the air. All of them were wearing striped green and gold suits.

"I don't have contact with anyone from the team. No one has. We have split up after the job." Jaime said bluntly, taking another small step.

"Well, I assume that's true… for all the secret stuff and all, I assume…" mumbled the mouse-faced man, lurking around.

"Maybe we should torture him a little, just to be sure." Said the one with the gun.

"Negative, we have to be quick in this, we can take care of him now. But first… we saw a pretty girl with you, frenchman… we'll take care of her in front of you, to start with." He hissed, smiling at the frenchman's expression. "So young man, where is she?"

"I think she's here Nick. Listen." Said the big guy, pointing at the bathroom door. From inside, an incoherent murmur was heard.

"Happy place… happy place… lollipops, bubbles and rainbows…" was blurting the swet voice of the irish girl.

"The fuck is that? Open the door Kurt!" ordered the mousy one. The big one nodded, and struck the weak wooden door, smashing it easily. And just after that, he screamed in pain, as a stream of fire darted out from the bathroom, aimed at his face. He dropped the shotgun, waving his hands in panic, as another stream of fire darted out, igniting his suit. From the bathroom emerged Deirdre, her hair over her devastated face, a can of hairspray in one hand, a lighter in the other hand.

The man with the gun turned, aiming at the irish girl. But he didn't have the time to fire, as a long, silver knife was planted in his neck. "Peekaboo." Hissed Jaime, leaving the knife and grabbing the gun from the dead hands of the man. "Such a gross weapon…" he murmured, aiming at the last one, who was hiding behind a chair, looking at the girl as she hummed quietly while looking at the burning body of the big one.

"Thanks to you, the past five years of therapy of Deirdre Callaghan, my fiance and the former VIOLET pyro have all gone down la toilette, you imbècile!" nearly shouted Jaime, pulling the trigger. The head of the third and last mobster exploded, and like magic, the girl blinked and looked at the charred body in front of her. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened.

"We have to get out of here! Now!" exclaimed the frenchman, grabbing the girl and helping her to stand up. They ran out of the room, down the stairs of the hotel, ignoring the curious couples peeking out of their rooms. The former violet spy took the cell phone, pressing some buttons before raising it, praying to be answered.

" Do you know the time, lad? What the hell, my kids are trying to sleep. Now, I don't know who in the blue hell are you, but you better have a good reason to call my home at this hour in the night!" exclaimed suddenly a grumpy voice on the other side of the phone.