Spy and Sniper were the first to leave the base since the plan relied on the marksman's punctual and initial arrival. So they both set off in his caravan a good couple of hours in advance. Spy didn't like it and saw little point in leaving so early, but they had to stay together as a team so try as he might, he just wasn't getting out of this one.

The van was spacious, but for its purpose as a living unit, was rather cramped. Everything was a tight squeeze and everything was in the wrong place, from his laundry to his garbage. Empty cans of beer littered the carpeted floor, some were crushed and the others seemed to have fallen out of Sniper's hand, presumably when he fell asleep drinking. Spy even found a toothbrush in the cup-holder.

"Honestly, I don't know how you live here. Actually, scratch that. I do know how you live here- poorly. What I don't know is why you choose to live like this."

Sniper cast a side-glare at the masked man sat next to him, his sharp blue eyes just barley peeking out over his orange tinted shades. "It's not so bad."

"Not so bad? You barely have running water."

"I get by just fine."

"What? By bathing in your Jarate?" Spy pulled a grimace of disgust. "And they say the French are bad..."

"Oi, don't bring my whole country into this! One Aussie does not make a nation."

"Why do I have to work with this idiot..." The Frenchman then groaned, sinking into a pathetic pool of defeat in his seat.

"Can it, would ya? Ya agreed to do this on your own terms. I'd stop complaining if I were you."

"But of course you would. Being me is a much better option than being you."

Yet Sniper remained unprovoked. "You've already used that line on me. Can't think of new material, ay?"

"You discover the cure for cancer, you don't just say it once. Facts are facts and facts are stated."

"Oh, cancer, yes." He drawled sarcastically in return. "Smooth save."

Spy looked like he was contemplating jumping straight out of the window, tugging at his seatbelt and squirming uncomfortably in his seat. He was in a tin-can of a cage and he desperately wanted out.

"How much longer till we're there?"

"'Bout half an hour."

It wasn't worth taking a sleeping pill for, Spy realised. The drug's effects would simply overstay their visit and linger in his system when he needed it the least. Instead, he settled for shutting his eyes to catch whatever sleep he could, just to make time go faster.

"If you dare wake me, I will kill you."

The marksman simply rolled his eyes and refocussed on the road ahead, eventually ignoring the sounds of Spy snoring in favour of driving safely along the bumpy and rigid path. Not much longer now, he told himself, then they would both be free of each other.

When they reached their destination, Sniper woke the other up with all the care and grace of a bull in a china shop. Spy grunted as the other's sharp and bony elbow connected with his ribs and grumbled something about not messing his Armani suit with his filthy hands.

"We're there, ya sod." He exited the vehicle in-time to avoid Spy's vehement response.

Several minutes later, both men had climbed their way up into an old decrepit building. It was obvious that the place had been abandoned for many years, and would be for just as many more years to come. It was surprising that a bulldozer hadn't been introduced to this particular piece of property yet. With every step they took, the floorboards beneath them would creek and shriek in protest of their weight, threatening to snap and crumble at any moment.

"You could perhaps try being a little more stealth." Spy scoffed, disapproving of the carefree manner in which the Aussie carried himself across the squeaky floor.

He laughed, not so much in good humour but disbelief. "Stealth? There's no-one else out here for miles in every direction, mate."

"We're not mates."

"Please... Wouldn't wanna be, anyway!"

As Spy tried to 'settle' in with his surroundings, Sniper busied himself by preparing his set-up for the next few hours. In true and typical Sniper-fashion, he had stationed his rifle just outside a semi-open window. The dust coating it was so thick that it rendered itself obsolete; barely anything but the sun's setting rays could be seen through it, which made it an ideal hiding place for the marksman. Next to his gun lay several glass jars (some filled and some empty), a large flask of black coffee and a crumpled box of cigarettes with only 3 cancer sticks remaining.

"I'm taking one of these." Spy declared, reaching in for the other's smokes.

"Oi! No, you're not!" The Aussie smacked his hand away in time. "I've only got a few left and you have, what? 2 more packs? Piss off!"

The Frenchie hissed much like a displeased cat. "I cannot believe that those idiots actually thought we'd make a good pair."

"You're as surprised as I am." Sniper muttered back as he did a few test-runs with his rifle, making some minor adjustments.

"Exactly how long do I need to stay?"

"'Till Engi gives me his signal."

"Which will take how long?"

"However long it takes for Scout and Soldier to create a big enough distraction so he can sneak in with his machines."

"That's not a real answer."

"Yes, it is." Sniper leaned away from his gun, straightening up and turning to face the other in the eye. "You just don't like it."

Spy scowled when he couldn't think of a suitable comeback, folding his arms over his chest. "Non. What I don't like is your-"

"Oh, save it!" He cut him off before he could finish. The other just had to have the last word. Spy would rather die than let somebody out-wit him. "Look, it's gonna take a while for everyone else to set-up so you may as well sit down and 'ave a cuppa coffee."

"Coffee?"

Sniper grabbed one of the two mugs he had brought with him, filled it halfway and then pushed in into his team-mate's gloved hands, the liquid still piping hot and steaming. "Coffee!"

The Frenchie peeked down mysteriously at the dark liquid, examining it. Then he brought it up to his nose to give it a careful sniff.

When Sniper saw this, he was incredulous. "Oh, bloody hell. I didn't poison it, okay? Not everything I do is out to get you."

"You can never be too sure."

"Oh, really?" He snatched the mug out of Spy's hands and downed a good sip (which was rather impressive considering its temperature), gulping the beverage back rather loudly. When he was finished, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and made a gesture of 'voila!'.

"See?" The drink travelled back to Spy's hands via Sniper express. "Still alive!"

"There are 2 mugs." Spy narrowed his eyes, eyeing the other mug upon this realisation.

Sniper looked at him as if he could not have said dumber words.

"You brought one up especially for me?" He seemed surprised.

"What else was I gonna do? Make you drink out of a doggie bowl?"

This time, the Frenchie kept his mouth shut and finally, at long last, he sat down. The Aussie was visibly surprised with the lack of snarky repartee, but made no complaints about it. Spy always talked too much, to the point where even Scout became more tolerable. It was nice to have him shut up for once. Even better that he was the one responsible for it.