RED team had lost.

Not just lost, but completely and epically failed.

While all of his comrades were protecting the first capture point, Spy was left to keep watch of the second. More like: Spy was in a bad mood and all classes left him behind. So he smoked like a chimney. He hated feeling useless. For the Frenchman, it was the worst feeling on Earth. He stood playing with his butterfly knife and puffing on his cigarette at the second part of RED's "stomping ground." That was when he thought it'd be alright to let his guard down.

How sorely mistaken he was.

The minute—no, the isecond/i-he lowered those imaginary barriers, blue mist billowed around him and he was suddenly backed against a wall with a sharp metal object pressed to his jugular. "You forgot about me, didn't you?" BLU Spy emitted a cackle that sent shivers up his doppelganger's spine. "Still such a novice, so… useless." RED snarled at the last word but sucked in a sharp breath when the blade pressed closer to his throat.

The red circle on top of the wood floor had almost turned completely blue from the other Spy's presence until he exploded in front of RED Spy's face; bits of his BLU counterpart flew in every direction, but mostly on Spy's very expensive and iclean/i suit. "Mon dieu!" the Frenchman blurted out in confusion and anger, still unaware of how in the world the other man had ruptured.

"FUCKIN' FRENCHY!" That booming voice could only belong to one person: Soldier. The much bigger man stormed over to said "Frenchy" and towered over him. It was like a solar eclipse the way the American blocked out all light that could possibly bathe the Frenchman, yet it was much hotter because of what seemed like steam emitting from Soldier's nostrils was hitting Spy's face.

"CAN'T YOU EUROPEANS DO ANYTHING BUT BE GIRLY, MAMBY PAMBY FRUITCAKES? I TELL YOU TO GUARD THIS POINT AND YOU'RE OFF MAKIN' OUT WITH YOURSELF OVER THERE!"

"But Soldier, I was not—"

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR FRENCH EXCUSES, MAGGOT. I SAVED YOUR FOREIGN BEHIND AND YOU BETTER RESPECT THAT. THIS IS WAR, NOT TEA TIME!"

"Monsieur, I believe ze British drink tea, not moi."

iSlap!/i A firm hand struck Spy's cheek. "DO iNOT/i BACKSASS YOUR COMMANDER, PRIVATE."

Spy's lip twitched, "I do not see 'ow you are higher zen me, filthy American."

That same hand took hold of the Frenchman's throat and squeezed slightly. "iWHAT/i DID YOU CALL ME?"

"A… ifilthy/i… American." The fist tightened. Just when he thought his eyes would pop out of his head, Engineer rounded the corner.

"Woah, there! What in the hell d'ya think yer doin'?"

At the distinct Southern drawl, Soldier reluctantly let go of his vice grip on the other man's thin neck, leaving Spy on his knees as he gasped for air.

"We're on the same side, ya know, and today's battle ain't over yet," Engineer explained with a wag of his finger, "No need to go killin' each other now." The other two men glared daggers at one another until Soldier marched away with a final salute to his fellow American. Engineer waited until the other helmet-clad man was out of sight until he rushed over to Spy and helped him to his feet. "Ya can't go rubbin' Soldier the wrong way, son," the shorter male whispered.

"He believes… he's better zen all of us," Spy panted, "I do not take orders from a war-crazed maniac."

"Well you're gonna hafta… or at least pretend ta… for your sake." With that being said, Engineer clapped a hand on Spy's shoulder and ran back to the first base where his sentry was built.

After Soldier and Spy's encounter, everything had gone downhill. While Engineer was breaking up the two other men, Spy had respawned and sapped his precious level three. After the first was captured, BLU Pyro had caught up with Spy and burnt him to a crisp. It then proceeded to hold its backburner up in the air in victory as said Spy combusted under his boots.

So there the team was, drowning themselves in Demoman's rat poison that he calls "Scrumpy." Instead of being with his comrades and drinking himself into a coma, Spy chose to sit on the scratchy couch adjacent to the small fireplace in RED's den. No one had bothered him since the loss because by now the team knew not to. Spy didn't take loss well, especially when he was somewhat the cause.

Scout popped his head through the doorway, quite wasted himself, and rolled over the sofa's back to plop next to his teammate.

"Yo."

"… go away."

"Why man?"

"I do not feel like talking."

"But talkin's howya let emotions out, yaknowwud'm sayin'?"

"Scout, you are being very sloppy right now. I suggest you go to bed."

"Buh I wanna stay witchu and talk!"

"I would only stay with you if you would put your mouth to better use, boy."

Spy finally chanced a glance at his young teammate to see him sprawled out on his side of the couch and snoring. A small smile graced Spy's lips as he picked up the boy underneath his arms and knees to carry him towards his room. The elder man had to admit, it was strange to see Scout so peaceful and quiet instead of the usual obnoxious and loud.

Scout was placed on his bed gently and tucked in like his mother used to do so many years ago. Spy then looked around for another key item: A garbage can. Because God knows how he'll feel the next morning.