It'd been a week... A long, grueling... debating week. He had gone back and forth with himself as though playing a game of ping pong. That coupled with the advanced stress of his actual work could have most certainly strained some grey hairs from the Aussie's brunet scruff. On one side of the card, on the side stained and beaten, was Mann Co., the company that had been his life for most of his adult career and payed for everything he'd ever needed since then. On the other side, the side new and polished with diamonds in each corner, was the WNPKS, the new money who could pay him so much more for much less work... Yet... That which Glitters is not always gold... Was he really the type for POLITICAL assassination? Assassinating someone who had every intent to kill him? Sure, that was his work and easy to do from the moral standpoint of self defense. Killing a... a suit? A politician? An old bloke who had no gun, no bloodthirst for him, and no qualm with him besides being in power? He hated to say it, but, perhaps, Spy was right. The ponce was a sneaky, slithering snake, but snakes can CHOOSE to bite... Spy had chosen not to. He'd been docile and seemed knowledgeable about the topic, in fact. He felt strongly enough to push Sniper for answers and even tried to talk him out of it as though he knew it better. It was then that it began to actually dawn on him... Spy had been a political assassin.
What most of the Tuefort nine did before being hired by Mann Co. was no secret save for spy and Pyro, but people could draw conclusions about spy. Something about espionage, of course, and something especially associated with the war and perhaps an eye on the Soviet Union and the Remaining Nazi Party, seeing how jumpy Europe was afterwords. Sniper was surprised he hadn't come to the guess of political assassin before, actually. The man was skilled in sneaking and back-stabbing. There was nothing to say it started at Tuefort. He was skilled. He was efficient. He was, dare the bushman say it, a professional. He took the motto of 'Have a plan to kill everyone you meet' to a whole new level. Spy probably could name ten ways to kill each of them, as a start and go into detail about how he would do it. Sniper never gave it too much thought. He wasn't a planner and never anticipated needing to kill one of his own. Spy was a quick planner and clever in a pinch. The chances of political assassination in his past were at ninety-nine percent; high enough for him to speculate... or maybe use... In fact, he took said information from his perch after they had thwarted Grey Mann yet again and approached Spy strait off.
"Ayy, Spook. Can I have a word with ya' fer just a minute?" He didn't even give Spy the chance to respond. He simply took him by the elbow and lead him back to where Spy had taken him just a week prior. The Frenchman didn't question it, simply going along with it as though it were normal. When Sniper finally released him, Spy flicked some imaginary dust from his arm and cocked a dark brow.
"You have my full attention, Bushman. Why have you carried me back to this... shack?" m/FDA;k
Sniper took a deep breath, drawing every word to mind just the way he wanted to say it. It probably wouldn't come out that way, but it was worth a try. "I wanted to talk more 'bout me job offer. Are you still curious?" Spy straitened.
"Yes, in fact, I am. What has driven you to this, Rogue?"
"Well, I been thinkin' real hard on what you told me. Debatin' myself to exhaustion all week, but when I got done debatin' I started to think... You know an awful lot 'bout this. You ever do this kind'a thing?" Spy scoffed, straitening his sleeves with an amused smile.
"I thought we were here to talk about you, Coquin. I am not avid in telling my life story, let alone to someone like you."
"Well, I ain't askin' you to. I just wanna know if you were even involved with this kind'a stuff. Little exchange of information. You're gettin' the better end of it, really. So, how 'bout it, spook? I ain't askin' fer much." Spy sighed and moved to stand by the panel of windows, looking out upon the dreary, overcast night. It would rain, most positively. Rain was a two sided coin... Much like what he was about to do...
"I was an assassin, yes. I killed fat, lazy dictators and small, self-righteous third-world rebels. I basically was one of the many gears in a trash-compactor for the country of France. If they didn't like the look of something, I or one of my many contemporaries was sent out to deal with it silently and privately before their chanting got into the newspapers. I was ranked tenth among my many counterparts... This is out of sixteen, so you can imagine I was disposable. Long story short, newer, more promising avortons came along and us on the lower end of the chain were let go. That is why I accepted Redmond Mann's offer when it arose. Es-tu heureux? Tell me about YOUR predicament,tireur d'élite. Indulge me."
More than satisfied with the answer, Sniper felt that Spy deserved one of his own. "Aye... You see... These men who came to me... They were part of this... World Peace association and wanted me to kill people for them. They said that they work for whoever pays them and that they'd offer a king's ransom if I played their new pawn. They also told me not to tell anyone. Didn't say what they'd do if I did, but I'm guessin' it's somethin' a little like this:" He made a pretend pistol with his fingers and pulled an imagined trigger at his right temple. "They really wanted me to consider it."
"So, you are willing to take a bullet on the off chance that they find out about this meeting and that you spilled all the details of their meeting with you?"
"I was hopin' you were good 'nuff at keepin' secrets... All things considered..."
Another laugh. "Mister Mundy, I do not keep secrets, I deliver them. To whom? Well, that depends."
"On wot'?"
"With whom my loyalties lie..."
"And where do they lie as of now?" Spy walked around in front of his co-worker and sighed again.
"With those who I am dane to work for. Aussi connu comme Miss Pauling. Now SHE keeps secrets."
"If you ain't the type to keep 'em, though, then wot' of yer' life'n all that?"
"Well, I just willingly divulged a good portion of them to you, so I'd say those are not really secrets. It's all selective and perhaps enough motivation can draw some things out, yes? You gave me motivation, I spoke, though some circumstances can change how that works. When a spy is interrogated, those selective things BECOME secrets, but I have yet to be interrogated... Unless... this would be an interrogation. If so, I'll have to slit your throat, but I trust that you can keep this to yourself fairly well, no?" Sniper nodded slowly and stretched before walking to the wooden frame to leave, but the Frenchman stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hold on, Rogue. We are not finished. There is still the matter of this offer. The people who gave it. Who did they say they were with?"
"Uhh... The World Nations Peace Keepin' Society. Some ponce underground shindig, aye. Kept usin' fancy English like I wouldn't know what the bloody hell they were sayin' and blindly follow like a dog. You could see it in 'em. They were some entitled bastards."
"Hmm... Is that so? Rich, American, Political, free lance, hiring Mercenaries... Anything else?"
"Aye. They said I'd have political immunity and not ever haf'ta worry 'bout convictions."
"So that is their game... Mon ami, I do not think these men were honest... These men were Cobras dressed as garden snakes. One would only know if they bit... Hmm... I need to think on this. We shall talk again soon." With a whisk of smoke, Spy vanished and probably scurried off to do who knows what. Sniper, however, was, once again, left standing there speechless.
