The infirmary glittered, armed with saws and scalpels, full of items that would make any escape attempt delightfully easy if only Spy could get to them.

He kept his growl of annoyance inside, not that he thought anyone might be listening, but just out of professional habit. His bonds were as secure as the forty-third time he'd tried them—the RED Spy knew what he was doing apparently, as much as Spy otherwise thought he was a disgrace to the profession. The cord around his midsection was resilient, would need a great deal more friction than he was currently applying to break, and just on the off chance he managed to chew through all that he was also cuffed to some piping underneath his bonds. Just in case, he supposed. The RED had even been uncomfortably adept at removing all Spy's hidden weaponry, even the lockpick Spy kept in a false mesh behind his ear.

The teamwide interrogation had been unproductive for RED, but that was all Spy had to be grateful for. Their constant shouting over one another, their inability to formulate a coherent question, all gave Spy a headache, and the meeting was swiftly adjourned so that the REDs could instead bother their respective cliques instead of him.

He wished he could take solace in the fact that RED was disorganized and fractured, but he knew the sad reality was that it only made them that more dangerous. A volatile enemy could be steered into obsolescence, but that would require a thick pair of gloves and also not being handcuffed to a fucking pipe .

For the forty-fourth time, Spy cursed his own carelessness. He'd spent far more time on the giving end of that shtick, and thus was out of practice with even the most basic rules of spycheck: never let your question reveal what answer you're expecting.

Except, Spy realized with a jolt, he hadn't said Engineer's name before the RED revealed himself. I thought I told you not to follow me, mon cher. That little affection had been the slipup, and with a sinking feeling Spy realized that meant his RED counterpart had either known who Spy was referring to (impossible), or had made an educated guess (much less impossible, and humiliating to consider.)

Speak of the devil and he doth appear.

The Other Spy, The Red One, That Bastard all the various names Spy had for him scrolled through his head like a news ticker as he approached, the infirmary doors swinging shut behind him. "Comfortable, I hope?"

"But of course," Spy drawled. "The good doctor does keep this place so inviting."

"Your sarcasm is noted," the RED said. "However, you have no one to blame but yourself. Truly astounding that that little trick went on as long as it did, very embarrassing."

"For me? Or you by association?" Spy hoped he would get on already. He knew where this was heading, could tell by context even if Medic hadn't cheerfully pointed out to the RED where his best scalpels were 'should he need them'. All this gloating was just pregame.

If the RED thought Spy would be cowed by such obvious bluster, he had another thing coming.

"As witty as ever, my friend," the RED said, the barest bit of teeth in his sneer. "But for you, of course. Honestly, that might be a new record." Then he paused, adding with false thoughtfulness, "Hm, though come to think of it, your 'previous best' was when I was the Engineer as well."

He had rehearsed this speech. Spy knew he had. That didn't make watching him flicker back into the guise of the BLU Engineer any less unpleasant.

"It ain't good for men in our profession to have weak points like that," the—now Engineer—said as he crouched in front of Spy. " 'Specially caught up in all the middle of this."

Spy said nothing.

Not until a hand shot forward and grabbed him by the jaw. "Weren't even all that hard to guess," Engineer continued over Spy's audible wince. "Just thought to myself, well, if 'lil blu here had gone all soft, who would it be on?" The familiar voice chuckled.

Spy focused on the hand. Engineer's grip was much stronger than this; as well as the disguise kit could fool the eye, it couldn't change the fact that it was still the RED Spy's hand underneath that false glove, a hand with a slim man's strength. Spy kept thinking about that, keeping it at the center of his mind.

At his lack of response, the Engineer tugged him further, straining his neck. "You know," he said, reaching for the nearest dish and twiddling an evil looking blade that could have absolutely no medical purpose, "I think we might just do things like this. How does that sound?"

Spy closed his eyes. Think about the hand, that was all he had to do, just think about the hand.

"Aw, don't be like that darlin'."

Spy's shoulders bunched. That was a guess, another guess was all. A fairly common pet name. A cheap hit since, by his own admission, the RED Spy had no idea about Engineer until Spy had gone ahead and basically told him-

The knife came to rest at the corner of Spy's lip, prompting a spike of confusion. One didn't begin with the head or face, nothing that was necessary in getting out the information one was looking for, everyone knew that. It was common knowledge you started with something simple: fingernails, or trauma induced internal bleeding. What was this cheap imitation playing at?

The confusion partially distracted him from the Engineer's next words. "After all, you could just start talkin' and I wouldn't gotta do any of this. How 'bout we start with what that penalty was?"

Spy's mouth was forced open, the blade tugging at the corner, threatening to split his cheek-

"Spy."

The rough voice came from the doorway, and both Spies turned at the noise. With one hand holding open the swinging door and glaring at the ongoings, the RED Demoman stood in the doorway.

"At least I assume that's you," he said with distaste, "and the BLU Engineer didn't sneak into our base just to mess with our prisoner."

Spy was shoved back as Engineer stood, the disguise falling away with a, "I am busy at the moment."

"Too bad," Demoman bit, eye briefly flicking to Spy before settling on his RED version. "Team meeting."

"We just had a team meeting," the RED said sourly, flicking a drop of blood off his scalpel.

"No, we had a row while standing around a BLU you caught and tied to a chair." Aside from that first glance, Demoman hadn't looked at Spy again once, and that piqued a far off strand of curiosity within the BLU. "We haven't actually decided what we're doing with him."

"I'm handling it."

Demo scoffed. "I can see that. Now stop handling it and get your arse back in the war room."

As soon as the Demoman left, the RED cursed a violent string under his breath. But then he turned back around, any trace of malice gone. "It appears we'll have to pick this up again later," he said cheerfully. "However, before I go…"

The knife disappeared from his hand, and his now closed fist flew forward, slamming into Spy's nose and smashing his head into the piping behind him.

"That was for getting blood on my suit," the RED said as he shook out his hand, voice cutting over Spy's cry of pain. " Au revoir ."

And then Spy was alone, questions about methods drowned from his brain as a horrid ringing reverberated around his skull.

"I said no, Medic," Engie stated, still calmly, which was surprising considering.

"But I've improved my designs so much since last time I had a hold of his head," Medic went on, heedless. "Imagine it! Real mindreading technology, all I need is to borrow a few components…"

Engie slapped Medic's over presumptuous hand, knocking a dispenser part out of it. The man pouted like a toddler.

"I would have thought you would have been happy about this suggestion," Medic continued airily. "You were the one who was so adverse to the whole torture plan."

Engineer grit his teeth. No one else spoke up, not a goddamn one, everyone during the so called 'meeting' had turned the other way after a few overly cheery reassurances from Spy. He'd talked a lot about how they'd all done horrifically similar things to each other over the years, the BLU Spy returning the favor to each mercenary in that room as well, and this should be considered no worse, especially with how much was on the line. Then he'd gone on about any permanent damage being fixed up with mediguns and nothing but bull bull bull . In the Engineer's opinion, it had been less of a meeting and more of a casual display that anybody would keep their head down if they thought it might save their own skin. The meeting had barely lasted thirty minutes before Spy was back in the infirmary, doing lord knows what.

"You're talking about chopping a man's head off and sticking it to a hotplate," Engineer said drily. "How's that any better?"

"It will go back on when I'm done." Medic rolled his eyes, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "And then that gives you free reign to do…what was your plan again?"

Engie glared down at the map of Hydro he'd been staring at for thirty minutes. "Send him back to his team."

"Ah, ah as a show of good faith, yes I remember now." Medic smiled in that way he seemed to think was comforting. "Well it sounds like a match made in heaven then!"

"Medic. Get out."

There was the beginning of a pout again. As Medic left, he called out the hall, "This is why no one sides with you, Engineer. You are simply not open to compromise." The door snapped closed behind him.

A few seconds ticked by, before the voice in the corner spoke up, "Yo, doc's crazier than like thirty pigeons stapled together."

Despite the terrible, awful few hours Engie had been going through, he did allow himself a weak chuckle. "Can say that again."

Scout hopped off his usual spot—feet on a dispenser, comic in hand—and walked over to the Engineer, tossing down his Bonk! Boy on a nearby table. He sidled up until they were hip to hip, and he leaned over the map until his elbows fell upon it.

"So what now?" he asked.

Engie sighed, sliding his goggles up to rub his nose. "Beats me. I'm still thinking I…don't rightly know actually. Maybe send a message to BLU team, 'our prisoner ain't comin' to harm, yadda yadda'. Might buy us some time to figure all this out."

"Sendin' out secret messages to the enemy team?" Scout's brow narrowed in concern. "Dontcha think that'd, I don't know, make everyone mad at you?"

"Well I don't know Scout!" Engineer tossed away his helmet so he could take off his goggles completely. "Feels like I'm the only one coming up with ideas here. Everyone else is just looking at their goddamn shoes, going along with bullcrap Spy says because they're too chicken-shit scared of a bunch of BLUs we've been kicking the asses of for who knows how long. And if Spy's right about the other one we caught, then they ain't interested in fighting us either, and we're wringing our hands over nothing."

Scout watched him quietly, or as quietly as Scout got with his nervous fidgets and his toe tapping on the workshop floor. After a while, as Engie's chest stopped heaving so much—he hadn't realized how close he'd been to shouting—Scout said, "Y'know, that's what I like about you Engie. You're finding the best in people, all the time."

Engie flicked his goggles with this ungloved hand. "I'm sensing a 'but' in there…"

" But …" Scout continued. "I don't get why you're suddenly hung up on this 'no killing' thing. You love killing people!"

"It's the damn principal," Engineer said. "I want to know why I'm killing folks, who I'll be killing, and how much I'm getting paid. I don't like being pointed around like some mad dog and being told 'sick'."

"So like, if the Voice had warned us ahead of time, you would've gone for it?"

"I wouldn't've agreed." Engie caught himself. "Or maybe I would, I don't know. We'll never know, she made that decision without asking. Only thing I know is that the folks 'cross the canyon—that man we got chained up in the infirmary—they didn't agree neither. It don't feel right hurting people who didn't sign up for it."

"They did though," Scout pointed out.

"Before they thought they were gunna die for real," Engie said. "And I don't like you thinking I 'love' killing people. I like a fight, I like seeing the look in a man's eye when he thinks he can outgun me, but that's it. How'd you like that if someone said that about you?"

Scout mulled that around. "I guess you're right. I mean, kicking ass is great 'n all, but once they're down and not getting back up, I don't really care if it's because they stopped breathing. That's Snipes' whole thing."

"So then why are you fighting me on this?"

"…Because I feel like you just ain't taking this seriously," Scout finally admitted. "Like damn Engie, these knuckleheads have killed us before! They've killed us a lot , and people don't change just because you want them to."

Engie felt a prickle in the back of his neck. It was that overture of condescension he'd grown to bristle at over his life, when people heard his accent and smirked like they knew exactly how much smarter they were than him. Because he was slow spoken and mild mannered, that meant he'd let people walk all over him. Now, on top of all that, it was the implication that he was somehow naïve .

"It ain't because I want them too," he said, pulling away from where their hip bones had been resting against each other. "It's because situation's changed, and they know that as well as I do."

"And what if you're wrong?" Scout's voice had lost that angry edge, instead despoiled with bits of desperation like prickleweed on a sweater. "I don't want to die, I don't want you to die, and if you're wrong then forget about either of those things. At least in Spy's worst case, well maybe we kill some guys who didn't deserve it, but hey we're still standing in the end."

The Engineer drew back entirely now, the whole of the map between them. "So you've been talking to Spy now?"

"I ain't been talking to him." The hot whet in Scout's voice was back again. "I just think maybe he has a point."

A pin drop could've been heard in the silence that followed. In lieu of that, a small screw rolled off the workbench and tinkled to the ground.

"Well then," Engie said finally. "You're welcome to leave right now and go hear more about it."

Scout hesitated, and there was one fleeting moment where he looked like he might take it all back. That he'd relent if only it'd save the peace. But this was Scout, and Engineer knew him better than he knew himself, so as much as he hoped he wasn't surprised when Scout's expression hardened and he adjusted his hat.

"Fine. Maybe I will."

Engie snorted. "Figures."

"What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if I so much as push, you clam right up, doubling down even when you know I'm right."

"Oh I know that do I?" Scout snapped. "Because that's all I do in my spare time is stand around thinking about how smart you are, and how lucky I am that you let me hang out with you when obviously all my thoughts are total bogus."

"That's not what I-"

"Forget it," Scout said, turning around. "You told me to go and I'll go." He paused once more at the door, and Engie's pride forced him not to look over his shoulder, so he only heard Scout say, "You know, maybe Medic isn't so crazy. Maybe you really don't know how to take even one step in anyone else's direction." And then he was gone, a soft click, and then there were no more loose screws to fill the silence.

It would not be accurate to say RED spared no expense. In some areas, it was glaringly obvious that someone had half assed their phony intelligence rooms, their cardboard bases, had put together any attempts to make a convincing battlefield out of polyester and glue. Other times, it was astronomically clear that RED was one of the richest corporations in the world, and its spending habits were simply managed by an idiot. It seemed only the stupidest, most worthless facets of a fake war ever got their funding, and the dumber the request the more likely it was to be filled to the point of excess.

Which was how the RED Spy got his dozens of identical smoking rooms.

God forgive if they ever procured him new weapons, or picked up one of the nearing-fifty requests he had put in for a replacement disguise kit (his current one glitched whenever he tried impersonate someone while they were wielding a shotgun, a major inconvenience), but the tiny little line he had slipped in at the beginning of his contract about acceptable working conditions? That one they would follow to the letter.

The smoking room at Hydro was just like all the others, and he splayed his notes on an expansive mahogany desk under the familiar ceiling. The desk itself, like its brothers, was made from pure Cuban hardwood, grown in hydroponics for the last three hundred years; and now it was dead, providing support for his plans to deal with the BLU Spy.

Later, he would burn the notes—not that they contained any sensitive information, it was more that he preferred to keep any samples of his handwriting out of existence—but for now he was formulating a plan about how best to attack the situation. It was extremely good fortune Spy had left for BLU base when he did: a few more minutes and the other Spy most likely would have been inside already, invisible to the naked eye and reliant on Spy's incompetent teammates to catch him. Lord knows how that would have gone. They were lucky to have Spy looking out for them. Speaking of luck, he was again at a stroke of good fortune to find such an exploitable vulnerability before he'd even gotten to work on the prisoner. He'd been surprised of course, but impersonating a loved one during routine torture was standard fare, and he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. The BLU was, as per the qualifications before being hired on by either of their companies, a master in counter interrogation—without a head start, he might have been impossible to crack in a reasonable timeframe, if at all. But now, with a little help from the BLU Engineer, Spy's work had been cut down from months to weeks, maybe even days if he was lucky.

He slid the sheet of paper labeled Eng. away from him, and instead drew forward a less detailed one. One trick would grow tiresome, the BLU would grow desensitized to that quickly, but there were other things Spy could try. Fire, for instance. He had a strong suspicion years of abuse at the Pyro's hands would have taken its toll on the BLU's amygdala; simultaneously, he pushed away the tiny, dark part of his own brain that had given him that idea. Maybe he could start small, a lighter perhaps-

"Oh uh. Hey. Didn't expect to see you in here."

Spy closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the migraine that had miraculously sprung up behind his eyes. "You did not expect to see me. In my own smoking room."

"Uh…" the Scout stalled, and there was the distinctive sound of him kicking his foot against the ground, scuffing up the carpet. "Yeah okay that was a lie. Just uh. Seeing what's up."

"What's up? " Spy turned on the intruder in his doorway. "I have to pry team details from a man trained in art of resisting interrogation, and you interrupt my research to ask me what is up?"

Scout shrugged, still lingering in the doorframe. "Wanted to know how that's all going."

"So you can report back to the Engineer, most likely."

Spy said it as he returned to his notes, but paused mid-rotation as Scout grumbled, "I don't do things just because he says so, y'know. Can think for myself and crap."

Now that was interesting. "Can you? It would be the first I've seen."

"I can ," Scout hissed. "I think both of you got your heads up your asses, but I also don't want to get sucker punched by those blue chucklenuts, and I think you're our best bet for that."

Spy raised an eyebrow. "Is this an olive branch being extended my way?"

"I guess, yeah." Scout crossed his arms and wouldn't make eye contact. "If you wanna be freaking Dr. Seuss about it."

"…Could you not think of a poet just then?"

"Shut up," Scout said. "Yeah, olive branch or whatever, just if you need help you let me know."

Spy considered this. Scout's help was, in all practical sense, useless, but a rift between him and the Engineer? Now that was something. Despite his claims to the contrary, Scout was constantly searching for some sort of role model, just waiting to heap his hero worship onto someone. And if were no longer Engineer…well. Worth considering.

"Thank you Scout," Spy said, letting his voice fall into the soft, genuine register he noticed Scout responded well to. "I will keep that in mind."

Scout's dull mood brightened immediately, and Spy wondered if he even knew how easy he was to manipulate. "Yeah, yeah, sure."

"Since you have offered…" And Spy could see Scout perking like an obedient puppy. "The BLU Spy might not be the only traitor in our midst."

"Whoa. You mean like. BLU's got more Spies? And it could be any one 'a us because they've slipped in and-"

"Nothing so dramatic." Spy held up a hand. "But I believe that someone, here on RED, does not have our best interests at heart. Of the details I can say no more, but if a trusted confidant of mine could keep this information close to his chest and keep his eyes peeled for anything suspicious…?"

There was a brief hesitation before, "Sure, yeah, I'll look for 'em."

"My deepest thanks."

He listened as the footsteps receded, and when he was sure Scout was gone, he checked quietly over the belongings he'd liberated from the BLU. Pressing each of the buttons, he found they were all perfectly functional, no sticking whatsoever.

Yes, this would do nicely.