HitSpy: Absolution

Act 1, Scene 1

The metro train, illuminated by poorly maintenanced lights, rumbled along the tracks, lulling HitSpy into a false sense of security. He knew he was not safe, so he stayed awake and alert. He didn't trust metros, and he didn't trust trains much at all for that matter, so he concentrated on his hatred of riding on trains, using that to keep him alert, almost to a state of calm, controlled paranoia.

Something touched him on the shoulder; he immediately turned around, ready to attack his predator, but found only an elderly lady standing behind him. She appeared too old and frail to be capable of harming him in hand to hand combat, but that didn't mean that she was harmless. For all HitSpy knew, she could be carrying a knife destined for his heart.

"Excuse me officer", the old lady politely inclined. For a moment, HitSpy was confused, until he remembered that he was wearing a stolen police uniform.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"There were a lot of police officers at that last stop, is everything okay?"

"Yes ma'am, the situation is under control."

"Oh, good. I was worried about my grandson; he works for the Chicago police department, and- Say, you have the same name he does!"

"Beg your pardon?"

"Your nametag, it's the same as his!"

HitSpy looked down at the nametag on the uniform. It read, "Wilson, Smith, C.P.D."

He looked back up at the elderly lady, dazed, and remarked cooly, "What a coincidence."

"Yes, you would love Smith! He's just adorable, and such a nice man, and his daughters just love him…"

The more she talked, the sicker HitSpy felt. He knew how he got this uniform, and there was no way in hell that he could just tell her that her grandson was dead. He certainly couldn't tell her how he walked up behind him, shoved a pistol in his back, and shot him twice. He just wished the elderly lady would stop talking; he might throw up if she didn't.

"Oh, and his wife is just beautiful-"

"He sounds like a nice guy", HitSpy cut in.

"Oh, yes he is! If you ever meet him, I'll bet you two would be such good friends!"

HitSpy straightened his stolen uniform, smiled, and said, "Maybe in the next life, ma'am."

He turned and walked up to the front of the train, and, seeing the train nearing a stop for another rail that would take him towards the more Southern states, he pushed his way up towards the door. He really did feel sick, and the first chance he got, he was going to find a secluded place to throw up. He didn't like this job; he wished there was some other way to fight Blu that didn't involve encounters with local police, but until the day they were forced to surrender, he would have to kill everyone in his way. He wasn't doing this job because he got paid; he was doing it because there was nothing else he could do. And he had to do something.

By this time, Blu had taken over almost all of the United States. There were a few states that Blu hadn't taken over yet, such as Texas, where he was headed now. His best bet was to find Dell Conagher. If anyone could help him, it was him.

For years now, HitSpy had been trying his hardest to find and save the rest of his team. His team was the last original team still remaining; they could rally others. All he had accomplished was an endless stream of failures. But now, with the knowledge of Dell Conagher's eluding capture, he had a chance to find the rest of his team.

But he needed Dell's help.

The train came to a stop. As it did so, the image of the police officer that he killed played back in his mind. Everything the elderly lady said about him wafted in a melody along with it. The image of him wrapping his left arm around his neck…

'He's so kind…'

Ramming the pistol into his back…

'His daughters just love him…'

Pulling the trigger, and then pulling it again for good measure…

'Oh, and his wife is just beautiful…'

The door opened. He stumbled past everybody in a daze. A trash can caught his attention in front of him.

He grabbed the rim, shoved his head inside, and threw up.

He threw up again, and again, emptying the contents of his stomach. This was why he very rarely deviated from his hit list. Every innocent death came back to bite him, and every time it did, it bit him hard.

A part of him kept telling himself that Smith would have done the same; that he wouldn't have thought twice to pull that trigger.

Another part called the former a dirty liar.

He had long since thrown away the gun that had taken Smith's life… no, HE had taken Smith's life. No one else. Him. But it didn't make him feel any less responsible.

He pulled his head out of the trash can, and instinctively went to wipe at his mouth. He stopped half-way there, remembering that instinct could get him killed.

Training didn't.

If he left a firm streak of DNA on this coat, they could trace him all the way to Dell, and that would end badly for both the ones sent after him, and, of course, him. He had to wipe his mouth on something else.

Standing straight up, he saw a food court in front of him. He heard his prayers being answered to the mouth wiping conundrum. He walked straight up to the counter, to see a young boy sitting there, with a wienie hat on his head, and a bubble of gum in his mouth, acting completely oblivious to everything around him. He looked fit and healthy, and looked like he could be rather nimble on his feet. As HitSpy looked closer, he realized something else.

He knew this boy.

He walked right up to the counter. The boy gave him a sideways glance, and asked, in an almost comical Bostonian accent, "You need somethin', dumbass?"

"I, um… one napkin, please."

The boy eyed him suspiciously. Without taking his eyes off of him, he reached for the napkin bin, and grabbed out a single napkin. He tossed it in the general direction of HitSpy, letting it fall on the ground. HitSpy knew that it was a trick, so he politely asked, "Another napkin, please."

"I just gave you a napkin. Pick it up, idiot."

"Scout, you give me another napkin or I'll-"

"What the hell did you just call me, pig?!"

HitSpy stopped everything, looking Scout in the eye. His hand reached up over his head slowly, just as the Scout's own hand began reaching under the counter slowly. HitSpy grabbed the brim of his stolen police cap, and slowly yanked the cap off his bald head. He had recently shaved it to avoid leaving too many DNA trails.

"You cannot seriously be saying you don't remember me, Scout", HitSpy remarked with a look of disappointment adorning his face. The boy had always been slow to learn.

"Who the hell are you, man?"

His voice. He forgot to switch back to his normal French accent; he was still using his Chicago Commoner voice. On top of that, he realized that taking off his hat would do nothing to help his situation; Scout did not know what HitSpy looked like without a mask on. In an instant, he spoke to Scout in a French accent.

"Whatever do you mean, 'Who am I?'"

Scout stopped moving entirely. For a moment, HitSpy feared that the boy had had a heart attack, judging by how pale his face was getting. Suddenly, the boy lunged at HitSpy. For a moment, HitSpy put his defenses up, fearing this to be an attack. That all changed when the boy wrapped his arms around HitSpy and buried his face in his chest. Hot tears began to flow down his face, and the boy was sobbing openly.

"I-I-I t-t-thought you were d-d-dead! I-I thought every-o-o-one was d-dead!"

For HitSpy, this was becoming quite awkward. HitSpy hadn't been embraced by one of his teammates, EVER. HitSpy had always been something of a loner, and had only interacted with his colleges in a professional manner, but he had been relatively mean to Scout now that he thought about it. He had always exploited Scout's fear of rainbows, which was so bad that he actually cried every time he saw one, and on top of that, he had intentionally run down Scout's Death Watch when he was teaching him dating advice (it would have killed him, too, but for some sick reason, if Scout died unhappy, he was happy). He never really liked the boy, never trusted him, and always underestimated his skill.

So why was Scout hugging HIM of all people?

"Y-you know, t-they s-s-shot my Mom when I w-wouldn't tell t-t-them anything, and… and then they just… oh, God, ALL MY BROTHERS!"

Now HitSpy was starting to understand. This boy had seen his whole family die in front of him, and on top of that, he must have suspected that all of his teammates were dead. He probably would have hugged Soldier, and Soldier made Scout do a bunch of random exercises every day, most of which were life-threatening.

Now that HitSpy knew what this boy had gone through, he could completely understand the hug. He even returned his hug a little, stroking the boy's hair like a mother stroking her child, trying to remember the article he had read in a newspaper, years ago, about calming children down.

Eventually, Scout let go of him, and straightened out his shirt, saying, "So, you, uh… you need somethin', or what?"

"I… suppose a hot dog wouldn't hurt, if you could also give me my napkin."

He had gone back to his Chicago Commoner voice, which made Scout frown, but Scout, of all people, would be aware of why he would need to blend in. Scout pushed a napkin towards HitSpy, which HitSpy quickly used to wipe his mouth. Scout then pulled a hot dog out of the oven, and asked HitSpy, "What do you want on it?"

"Pardon?" HitSpy asked, as he threw the napkin in the nearest trash can.

Scout sighed, repeating, "Your hot dog, what do you want on it?"

"Um… relish would be nice."

Scout rolled his eyes, muttering something about 'French people', and walked over to the dispensers. He read all the labels carefully, before selecting relish, and pouring a healthy serving out onto the hot dog. He walked over to HitSpy, mumbling, "That'll be one-twenty nine."

HitSpy reached into his coat, but realized that he didn't have any money. He checked all of his pockets just to make sure that he didn't have any money, and when he was sure he didn't, he looked at Scout in a way that made Scout almost think that he had done something wrong. Scout huffed, and handed the hot dog to HitSpy anyway. HitSpy gladly accepted it; he hadn't had something to eat all day. He bit into the hot dog, savoring the flavor as it popped into his mouth like a French carnival.

"So", Scout asked as he leaned on the counter of the concession stand, "where are we going?"

"We?"

Scout's face fell. He said, in an almost panicky voice, "Y-you're not taking me along?"

"Scout, I have no money, no plan except for one that's doomed to fail and kill everyone along with it, and you want to come along?"

"Hey, it sounds exactly like every other plan we ever made with the team, and look how far we got! Of course I'm comin' with you, and besides, I'm just as dead if I stay here."

HitSpy checked the boy's logic and realized that he was right. They had never made good plans back on the Red team, and they HAD made it this far. Besides, Scout was right; with the police on the hunt for HitSpy, Scout was in no way safe here anymore.

"Alright, Scout, you may come along, but I must warn you; if you die, it will be over MY head."

"Yeah, yeah, I can live with that."

Scout turned around, and screamed to the back of the concession stand, "Hey, Leonardo!"

A plump man with a handlebar moustache and horn-rimmed glasses poked his head out from a door in the back, replying, "What do you want?"

"I quit, lardfat! Oh, and by the way, your Mother was a hamster!"

"Why you little-!"

Scout ripped the wiener cap off his head, and threw a gray baseball cap on it instead. He ripped the apron off to reveal his Red t-shirt and brown pants that he always wore. He threw his headset on as well, and grabbed an aluminum baseball bat out from under the counter, and threw it to HitSpy, who caught it with one hand. He hopped over the counter, swiping a meat cleaver while doing so, and grabbed his bat out of HitSpy's hand. He immediately put the cleaver and the baseball bat in the sling pack that he always carried.

They both walked on in silence, until Scout took his dog tags out of pants pocket. He just stood there for a moment, feeling them, and said to HitSpy, "You know, my Dad gave me these before he left my ma for good. Not sure which army. He's the only family I've got left now, you know? And I don't even know where the bastard is."

Scout put the dog tags over his head, letting them clink and clank from his neck.

"You know", Scout said, a hint of regret in his voice, "I tried to join the Marines, but they said I was too scrawny or some crap."

"If they passed you up for any reason at all, it's their loss."

Scout looked up at HitSpy, who did not look back. Scout could recognize a compliment, though, and he certainly didn't want to ruin his good luck. He turned his head to stare straight ahead, and he kept walking, along with HitSpy.

"So, um", Scout said, breaking the silence. HitSpy turned to face Scout, and Scout said, with uncertainty in his voice, "Where are we going, exactly?"

HitSpy grabbed his shoulder, stopping Scout in his tracks. He grabbed the back of his head, and tilted it upwards, towards an electric sign which read all of the incoming and outgoing trains. There was an above-ground train that would take them as far as Kansas lit up on the incoming board; it would arrive in five minutes.

"Oh."

Suddenly, it hit Scout like a ton of bricks; "That freakin' hardhat's alive?"

"Yes", replied HitSpy, "and we are going to pay him a visit."

"Oh, ok, I think I'm starting to like this plan."

"Indeed."

HitSpy walked along, leaving Scout to catch up. Scout could see now why HitSpy was so hesitant to take him along; Oklahoma was a warzone between Red and Blu. They would be lucky to get through there alive, much less with all limbs attached. Red had been fighting hard and strong to defend Texas, but until now, Scout didn't know why. But if the rumors about Engineer being alive were true, then he could see why they would give everything they had to defend him; he was, by far, their ace in the hole, and Scout could tell that without knowing any backstory. Dell Conagher was a genius, and more than likely the only reason why Red was still at fighting capacity.

It wasn't a great plan, but it was a plan.

He ran to catch up with HitSpy, who was almost to the incoming station that the train was in. HitSpy immediately walked into the nearest bathroom, and locked the door. Scout waited outside; he had to GO. And not the kind of go that comes from waking up in the morning, but the kind of go that comes from drinking a ton of water bottles to pass the time, and then on top of that not getting a single bathroom break all day.

HitSpy thoroughly examined the bathroom that he was in, checking for any bugs. Not bugs like cockroaches, of course, but the kind that people could hear you through. He searched every nook and cranny, but didn't find a single thing. Satisfied that he was alone now, he realized that the blood on the police uniform had gotten on his suit. This would not do, mainly because this suit was not cheap.

He immediately took off the police uniform, and thought about stuffing it in one of the trash cans, but decided against it. Blu was expecting him to think like that, to think sloppy. He held onto the uniform, rolling it up into a ball. He stuffed it in a sink for now, deciding that he would rinse it in water until he felt satisfied that it was cleansed of his presence. He took off his own black suit jacket next, finding the blood to be near where the back of his right kidney would be. The black suit jacket and pants combo had been taken instead of the usual red ones in order to better fit in with his surroundings. He poured some water on it from another sink, and watched the blood flow off easily. Most of it was still wet, which was good for cleaning off, but it also meant that he could have made a trail. He simply didn't have enough time to clean up a trail, and instead he hoped to God that he didn't leave one drop of blood behind.

When he was satisfied that all of the blood was out of his suit, he turned off the water, and ringed out the wet spot on his suit jacket. He took some towels and wiped at the water, but couldn't quite get all of it out. He walked over to the hand dryer, and used it to hopefully dry away what was left of the water. Feeling satisfied with the results of his coat, and the police uniform, he put the former back on, and carried the latter in his arms out the door.

When he opened the door to the outside world, Scout rushed in and closed the door after himself. HitSpy didn't want to think about why the Scout was running so fast, so he ignored him, and walked over to the Metro tracks. He threw the police uniform onto the tracks when nobody was looking, and made his way back to the above-ground railroad tracks. On his way back, he noticed that the time left for the train was one minute. Feeling rushed, he walked a little faster. He didn't bother hiding his hurry; everyone was hurried down here.

As he walked on to the above ground train station, the pale light of the full moon illuminated a billboard showing the arrival times of the trains, and HitSpy saw that his train would be late for two minutes. Relieved, but still cautious, HitSpy walked over to the bathroom door, and rapped on it a good three times. When there was no response, HitSpy leaned his ear closer to the door.

He could faintly make out words, or more so groans of pleasure from the sweet release of urine, and he could definitely understand why the Scout was in a hurry to get into the bathroom. He took his ear from the door to give Scout some privacy, and began scouting out the other people getting on this train. The good news was that most of them appeared to be in a hurry of some kind, which would make it easier to hide their own hurry and intentions; the bad news was that every single person here appeared to be well-dressed, which would make Scout easy to spot. Scout needed a disguise.

HitSpy walked up to one of the men standing near the edge of the platform. The man in question wore a fancy suit with pristine markings, a monocle, and a top hat, and he seemed to be the least well-dressed of the two gentlemen that were talking. His suit would do.

He listened in on the two men's conversation, whilst scanning the least well-dressed man, trying to find any identifying markings that could help initiate speech.

"…and that's what the Captain said to me", the better-dressed man finished.

"So the government disarmed all of America's nukes and destroyed the launch codes before Blu could get their hands on them", the least-dressed man repeated.

"That's the reason he gave. Personally, I never wanted to see this country nuked at all, and it's quite relieving to know that no one can use our nukes for their own selfish gain."

"Sometimes I actually wonder what it might have looked like if Blu had gotten ahold of nukes. The war would have been over a lot faster, that's for sure."

"What it would have looked like would be a giant crater. We'd be standing in one now, if it weren't for the swift action of those CIA agents."

"But don't you ever wonder-"

"No, I don't, and I don't want to. Let's change the subject."

HitSpy noticed a CPR certificate poking out of the least-dressed man's pocket. This being the only information known about him, HitSpy walked up to the man, saying, "Excuse me, sir, but I was taking a CPR class recently, and I was confused about the compressions per minute of which to use on a person in need of resuscitation. Do you think you could walk with me, and perhaps enlighten me on the subject?"

HitSpy could now see that the man had a small moustache, and his pale skin and lack of scars showed HitSpy that this man had not worked a day in his life; he was surprised that the man knew CPR. The man looked at him, feigning surprised, saying the most obvious thing in the world;

"How did you-"

"I saw your card poking out of your pocket", HitSpy quickly interrupted. He didn't feel like wasting brain cells today.

"Oh! Oh, I see. Thank you for pointing that out."

"May we…?"

"Oh, yes! Of course! Follow me!"

HitSpy knew that this was too easy. Usually people needed a push in the right direction to do something like this. This man was not only a Spy, but not a very good one at that. With this in mind, HitSpy was ready for when they came around a corner, where no one else could see, and the man began saying, "Well, then…"

HitSpy jumped up and used his upper body strength to pull himself into the rafters as the man pulled a silenced Walter PPK from his pocket, and turned around, saying, "It was a good talk, but- huh?"

The man looked around for a bit, confused, until HitSpy dropped down behind him, and grabbed his head and twisted it. Hearing a satisfying snap, HitSpy let the body fall to the ground. HitSpy took a moment to breath, but after catching his breath, he began searching the Spy's pockets. Finding a wallet chock full of money, and of course, the silenced pistol, and a small Derringer, HitSpy felt confident that he had found everything that he would need, and began removing the man's clothes.

HitSpy walked up to a confused Scout, and threw the newly acquired clothing to him.

"Put it on over your clothes."

Scout shrugged, deciding not to fight HitSpy on this one, and walked back into the bathroom, and walked out two minutes later, dressed and ready, right as the train pulled up. Looking at Scout, HitSpy said, "Let us move."

Scout nodded, and the two boarded the train, along with everyone else, looking about as inconspicuous as they could, and HitSpy thought, for once, that maybe everything would turn out all right.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is an old story I wrote back when I was a much younger autist. It's kinda dumb, kinda weird, and completely unfinished. If it gets positive feedback, though, I'll post all of the rest of it over time for shits and giggles.