killins
"Victor?" She asked again, her voice hoarse. Her teammates took notice of her reaction, their eyes fixated on the pair. Tracy wanted to embrace him, press her lips to his neck and her nose into his hair, but didn't. For many, many reasons besides her betrayal. He hated her. Why was he here? To make amends? Most likely not, but she couldn't help but hope for it.
"Tracy." He smiled, his voice soft and silky and warm despite the cold air that lingered on her skin. The Sniper beside her felt as if he were intruding in their reunion, taking a step towards the rest of the group who watched these events unfold.
"It's been... man, almost a year since I've seen you." He continued, taking a baby-step towards her, smile unwavering. He studied her appearance, "You got a haircut."
"Yeah." She felt the nostalgia washing over her. The night they met in a parking lot when she was being chased by mall cops and he gave her a ride, and they luckily weren't caught. Breaking into a store in the dead of night to watch R-rated films and eat candy. The nipping cold of Christmas when they broke into a house and pilfered all the presents underneath the tree, beautifully wrapped up. And then Victor wrestling his way out of a police officer's grasp and escaping into the woods while the rest of her group were shoved into police vehicles.
"You... look good. How have you not been caught yet?" She breathed out the question finally, her voice almost pleading for him not to judge her.
"You'd be surprised." He tilted his head somewhat; those thick locks sweeping down and being brushed back by his long fingers. Those fingers were perfect for picking pockets. "I just never waited around to be caught. Stayed in houses of rich people while they were on vacation, never left a trace."
They remained quiet a moment, studying each other with their eyes before Victor suddenly turned, gesturing with a hand. "C'mon, I need to talk about something private with you. Mind, gents?"
Her teammates shrugged, murmuring their consent as they watched the pair go into the kitchen and close the door behind them. Victor sighed, releasing any stress he had, stretching out his long tan arms and turning to Tracy, his smile gone from his pink seashell lips.
"It's indeed been a long time." He began slowly, measuring each word with a tiny bit of venom. She saw his tongue flash before his white teeth. Or what used to be his white teeth. Apparently when he meant he never left a trace, that meant he never used a tooth brush either.
"What a place you got here." Which was code for 'what are you doing here?'.
"Yeah, I guess." She shrugged noncomically.
"Seems nice enough."
"Well, I was kinda forced into working with these guys, so I don't think you should be at all envious of me." She shrugged, trying to downplay her situation while making it sound like a pain, which was kind of hard to do. "I mean, daily training that makes you wanna die, and then battling, stuff like that. But I can take it."
"I'm not here for a job." Victor let out a sigh.
"Then what are you here for?" She tilted her head in question, feeling their conversation going downhill.
"Here... to talk." He inched towards a table, pulling out a chair for himself. It seemed that his manners had gone downhill fast.
"Alright... then talk." She nodded, sitting across the table. She felt her screwdriver digging into her back pocket, but she didn't dare show discomfort or remove it.
"I couldn't follow the trial very well, leaving no traces was hard, and getting a newspaper is even harder. What happened?" He asked feverishly.
"As far as I know, the twins were given a couple of days in prison and then had a bit of parole." The twins were a boy and a girl, Angelica and Aaron. They were the techies of the group, knowing every crack and crevice and detail of any electrical device ever. They were especially talented at electrical locks too, and turning off and disabling alarms before they even started. Tracy and the two had been acquaintances since kindergarten, but hadn't been close until they caught her pick-pocketing on a school surveillance camera. Since they were cool, they deleted the tape and approached her about her skills and offered their own. They were mischievous pair, but they were always nice. She wasn't quite sure, however, how forgiving they were now after prison. "And Micah..."
Tracy was pretty sure Micah had resisted arrest and had been given "assaulted a police officer" added to their list of offenses. Micah was probably still in jail, although he was usually a good kid, but his anger just sometimes released and he was out of control. She was just happy he was still alive, the officer had threatened to use a stun-gun on him, which wouldn't have ended well with his heart condition. "... still in the clink, I think."
Victor gave a low whistle, as if he were disappointed. "I just hope he's okay in there. Y'know, he's a good kid. He's just a bit like a soda bottle ready to pop."
Tracy nodded in agreement, truly hoping he was alright. He probably hadn't forgiven her just yet, or probably ever, but that was alright as long as he was okay. "So, is that all you're here for? To catch up?"
"Not exactly. Y'see, I might not have heard about their sentences, but I did hear you took an deal. Why?" He paused, mustering up his anger. "Remember that we all agreed to stick together when we were caught?" He hissed, and she lowered her head in shame. She could feel the anger he had hidden earlier that had begun seeping out, and anyone who knew him for a while knew his anger was dangerous. His arms were long enough to strike her over the table, so she casually moved her arm towards her back pocket.
"You're a mighty fine traitor, y'know? You could possibly pass as a Spy."
Tracy jerked her head up, staring at Victor who lean against his chair, smiling in amusement at her expression.
"How would you know anything about us?" She whispered, slightly unnerved.
"I've been watching you." He replied casually, his fingers caressing the curves of the table.
"You've been spying, haven't you?" She growled, her nostrils flaring, sitting rigidly in her seat.
"... Yes, I have." He smirked, his fingers dancing across the lip of a coffee cup. Did she just now notice the stench of unwashed garments?
"So, what're you here for, really?" She raised her voice, hoping somebody was eavesdropping near the door.
"Revenge, mostly. And I was here to talk, honestly." He replied, and she hadn't noticed his hand resting in his pockets, which was now pulling out a gleaming butterfly knife that she knew belonged to the spy.
"You really shouldn't have betray us, Trace." He was almost teasing, using her old nickname, "Remember what we called ourselves? The Order of Thieves? Funny how our leader cheated us out. But that's life, you know? You used to say that it was human-"
"-nature to be greedy, I know." She sighed, her head tilting somewhat at the memory.
The two paused a moment, studying each other's faces as if they wouldn't see each other for a very long time.
"I still love you, you know." He said after a moment of consideration. "But I'm still going to kill you."
In that moment, the scene freezed. She saw in slow motion his long and lanky arms moving, his graceful fingers wrapped around the handle, raising the butterfly knife which was gleaming in the fluorescent light. She pulled herself out of his reach, her screwdriver almost materializing in her fingers. She practically danced with him, dodging each attempt to stab her. He hadn't kept himself in shape with strength, but running from the cops did help with his speed and agility. They were almost an even match, but Tracy had been trained by the Soldier, and Victor had not.
The next second was a blur, her arm instinctively lunging out at Victor at blinding speed, her fist impacting with his cheek. He spun dramatically, falling to the kitchen tile and knocking a dish tray to the floor, cups and plates shattering. Any second now, her team would be rushing in to defend her, but she was on top of him in a second, her fists flying. She didn't hear anything, or see or feel. For a minute, she almost forgot she had her screwdriver in her hands. Without any hesitation, she struck him in the chest with the sharp end, ripping it out again and again. Everything was red, her world was red. But she was blue.
When she started to feel again, her skin sending signals that she was touching hot flesh, hot blood, she almost didn't believe what happened. But she did. She was leaning over him, his old clothes wrinkled and stained red. She took in the scene around her. The floor tiles were red, the cabinets and walls were red. She raised her hands. Her hands were red. Her clothes were red. But she was still blue underneath.
"I think he's dead, partner."
She had almost whipped around and stabbed at the intruder when she found that it was the Engineer. Apparently in her killing, she hadn't noticed them crowding into the doorway, staring at her as she killed him. Their faces, their expressions, she couldn't see them past the curtain of red. She raised her stained hands. She had been caught red-handed. She almost giggled.
"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." The Engineer tugged at her arm, ignoring the bloody body that had been alive only a second ago. She complied, her face splattered with blood and flecks of flesh. It occurred to her that this was outright murder. Victor wasn't going to come back.
Unless the Medic could pull a Frankenstein, which she hoped he wouldn't.
They took her to the commune washroom, which she had never been in before back at Teufort. It was large and cold without the hot water. Thankfully the Engineer didn't ask any questions, he simply turned on the hot water and helped her wash the blood from her hair and clothes without actually taking them off. He left for a moment, and she was half-way afraid they were going to call the police on her, but he returned with a change of clothes for her and left her to change.
When she got out, she felt much cleaner, but yet terrible all the same. Not in the right kind of terrible either. She didn't feel bad about killing Victor, and she knew that she should be. It wasn't like any old match, he was an old friend. He wasn't going to come back like the rest of them. Yet she wasn't sad at all. But in another way, she felt he deserved it. He was spying on them, he was trying to kill her. She was just defending herself. Was killing him really that bad?
Her teammates turned as she entered the living room. The body was gone, and the Pyro was on its hands and knees, scrubbing the red from the grouted tile. She apologized for the mess, but it waved her away and continued cleaning. She asked the Medic what was going to happen to her.
"What do you think is going to happen?" He cocked a brow.
"I thought you might turn me in." She replied, nonchalant.
"Turn you in? Thief, we're ALL murderers here." He gestured broadly, "And we sincerely doubt you did it in cold blood, we heard the struggle in there. You were defending yourself... right?"
"Yes, yes I was." She said defensively, gritting her teeth somewhat.
"Gut." He tilted his head, "As for the body, I wish to use it for experiments and spare parts. Would you mind?"
"Not at all, I guess." Tracy shrugged.
"Thank you." He bowed his head somewhat before exiting the living room and supposedly going to his infirmary.
"Mademoiselle Pauling and I have taken it upon ourselves to cover you." Said the Spy, materializing from the corner, "I wouldn't want our new teammate to be taken to prison."
"Thank you." Tracy croaked in appreciation, grabbing her bag from the floor. The living room was silent and somewhat cold and empty. Her teammates had gone to their rooms after her attack, and they had all said they had killed before and weren't at all surprised that she did too. But this didn't make her feel any better. As soon as she got to her room, she threw her bag on the floor, flew under the covers of her bed, and fell asleep.