"Wake up, numbnuts."

There was the familiar touch of cold metal on the left side of his head, as the BLU Scout regained consciousness. His head spinning and view hazy, he noted that he was in a car.

A faint, reddish leather covered the seats of the unfamiliar vehicle. The car was moving - and he could see weak streetlights pass in the distance. The whole car smelt awful, like heavy nicotine. He was in the back seat of the automobile, and all he could make out from the mysterious driver in the front, was the burning embers of a small, lit cigarette, and his gloved hands. As the Scout quietly tried to rise from the cold glass window pane he was leaning on, the cold bit of metal that touched his head aggressively pushed him back.

Even though the inside of the car was dark, the faint lights from the outside were enough to illuminate what he needed to see.

In the seat beside him, a young man with a face he knew - a face eerily similar to his own - greeted him with a snarl. In his hand was a Mann Co. issued standard pistol - and it's muzzle was pushed directly into the side of his head.

"It's about fuckin' time." The RED Scout scoffed.

Before the Scout, his hands were bound tightly together with a number of cable ties. He didn't think to bring any weapons with him on his run - and his belongings that he had brought with him (just his jug of water and his cap), had been stripped off of him and kept in a place he couldn't reach.

He was still exhausted. The smell of the car was nauseating, and although it was considerably warmer inside the vehicle, Scout still felt like he was on the brink of death. Unable to muster up the will or energy to fight, he looked into the eyes of the other young man and spoke quietly.

"...What do you want with me?" His throat was raspy and dry, to the point that saying words hurt. It had been some days since he last spoke, and the quiet, defeated whisper was all he could physically manage. Although he knew he could still speak - it still surprised him that he could vocalize anything properly. "If you're gonna kill me, just get it over with already."

RED raised an eyebrow. Under a poorly hidden expression of suspicion, he slowly tightened his grip on the trigger - and exhaled sharply as he let go. RED kept a hand on the handle as he lowered his gun into it's holster, and turned to face the weak, apathetic Scout.

"Look, man." He sighed as his brow furrowed deeply into his forehead.

"I.. I need your help."

~oOo~

By the time the explanation had ended, the driver of the vehicle had parked inside what looked like a desolate, abandoned barn. After closing the doors of the outhouse (they didn't lock very well, and looked like they would fly open with the wind - had it not been for the giant wooden door latch that kept the doors in place), the man had returned to the car - and turned on the lights.

Under dim, yellow lights in a still, parked car, the BLU Scout, RED Scout - and the RED Spy - had been negotiating a certain agreement.

"...That's really all you want?" Scout questioned RED quietly, the clear distrust in his voice overshadowed only by his apathetic monotony.

"Yeah," RED replied, his expression tense. "It's just a one time thing. Trust me - I don't wanna end up like that dumbass Demoman and Soldier either."

For a moment, the Scout took his eyes away from the other man, contemplating his own (lack of) options. What he heard from the RED Scout so far was astounding. The things RED had revealed and the idea he was proposing definitely went against merc protocol - but somehow, the Scout could empathize with the guy's desperation.

If it had been revealed that his own, real father was an enemy Spy - he might have even done the same thing.

"Are you really sure it's him?" Scout pushed quietly. "All you saw was his supposed pictures of her - and the Demo that leaked the info from BLU could have been drunk - you don't know if he's telling the truth."

"...Yeah, I don't know." RED grit his teeth. "That's why I have to see it with my own eyes."

In the front seat, the Spy looked out of his rolled-down side window as he continued smoking what was left of his remaining cigarette. As the RED Scout maintained his tense expression of distrust and displeasure at the situation - his fingers still tapping nervously on the hilt of his gun on his hip, Scout felt eerily calm. He had been explained by RED that they were out of range of the respawn pickup area - if he didn't comply, or showed any signs that he would talk - he would be killed, and his body dumped in the desert. Honestly, he was surprised he wasn't already dead.

For some reason or another - the RED Scout had the impression that he was trustworthy. He'd only known him for the duration of the car drive - and having literally just been killing each other a few short weeks ago - Scout was astounded he would trust him at all. Underneath the intense, aggressive facade of RED - the guy was rather sincere. Or maybe he was just desperate.

As Scout looked into his mirror image with empty eyes, he pursed his already tight lips, contemplating the consequences of his actions. This was a deal that would definitely get him fired, or worse - if the administrator found out. What did that matter in the end though? He was already supposed to be dead, anyway.

"Let me get this straight, one last time." Scout said, the sound of his voice still barely a raspy whisper. "You want to trade places with me until sunrise...to check the identity of the BLU Spy."

"Yeah," RED replied quietly, a forced edge in his tone. "That's all I want - I promise. I ain't gonna kill anyone. I'm not here to cause trouble. I just need to know the truth."

"...And how are ya gonna do that?" Scout questioned monotonously. "It's not like he's just gonna tell you - I ain't even close to that French bastard, he won't exactly jus' talk about his history if ya ask nicely."

"I'm not gonna ask him, dumbass." RED scoffed. "...Everyone on the base has medical charts - I assume it's the same for BLU. That shit's got details on past and current medical history an' stuff. You know, for inspection purposes." He fidgeted nervously with his fingers. "It's got names, pictures... and a family record."

Scout remained silent, nodding ever so slightly at RED for him to continue.

"I saw mine. It's got the standard stuff. My real name, physical condition - and some family members I've decided to forward a portion of my salary to. Ya know, for emergency contact purposes an' shit - in case I die before I get home." RED cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Point is - I know my ma's still in contact with him. We've been getting monthly benefits from the fucker for years - it's how we've been getting by. I know the bitch still gets money outta him." He looked away. "...If the BLU Spy really is my dad - my ma's name is gonna be on his list of contacts."

Scout looked straight on at the nervous RED. It seemed like a solid plan - just nick some files in the middle of the night, and return them when he was done. RED was clearly uncomfortable about the whole ordeal himself - it seemed like he didn't want to get fired over something as stupid as this - much like Scout himself. And although he was clearly itching to whip out his gun and just get Scout's life over with - he was reliably fighting off the urge to kill him, so far.

From the short interaction he had with his enemy, the Scout had silently decided that he wanted to trust him. The guy was clearly desperate - there was a poorly concealed glint in his eyes that begged him to understand what he was going through - the same frenzied look he had seen in many people before him. His family, his brothers - and the mercs of the BLU team. In himself. Maybe he was too empathetic - or maybe he was just projecting. If he were in his shoes, wouldn't he want to know the truth, too?

Tired, weak, and broken - he decided to give in to his own impulses. What did it matter? What would it cost? His job? His trust among the other mercs?

Sighing quietly, the Scout shook his head...It's not like he knew that they even trusted him, anyway.

Glancing up at the nervous RED, Scout finally spoke.

"...Fine," He uttered weakly, but in a steady tone. "I trust you. Just don't make a scene."

~oOo~

When the Scout woke up from a groggy slumber, he found himself still in the car.

He was lying on his side with his legs uncomfortably tucked under the seat - he'd fallen asleep soon after RED had donned his faded varsity jacket and left - leaving the other side of the velvet back seat open for him to lie on. The lights within the vehicle were still on, very dimly lighting the interior of the car. The empty barn that surrounded them was almost completely dark - save the flickering electrical light illuminating the seats, and the small embers coming off the smoldering cigarette that the Spy was holding. Scout, idly looking up at the man in the front seat as he remained still in the uncomfortable seat space, wondered if he had been smoking the entire time he was unconscious. Having been able to rest even briefly, his head felt a bit clearer.

Pushing himself up weakly to a sitting position, he noted the almost agonizing ache in his throat. He hadn't drank anything in hours. Clearly dehydrated, he suffered from an uncomfortable, buzzing headache. His throat felt like the desert wastelands surrounding the two - dry, sandy, in a state only known as constant suffering.

Quietly, the Scout cleared his throat. Nothing seemed to help him at this point - he wasn't hydrated enough to produce even a sliver of saliva in his mouth. Not like drinking any of that would help him with his thirst, anyway. Sighing, he wondered if he was gonna die of dehydration before he was even able to get back to base.

In front of him, Spy was shuffling around with something in his pocket. Although Scout couldn't clearly see what he was doing, he automatically assumed he was taking out a lighter to consume yet another cigarette. They had not interacted since he had found himself in the car - and he had quite quickly pieced together that the Spy wanted nothing to do with the private business between the Scouts.

That's why it surprised him, when the Spy produced a metal flask from his breast pocket, and looked behind to the Scout - presenting it for him to drink.

"Take what you need." The Spy said evenly. "...I wouldn't want you to die in my car."

The Scout paused, his expression hardening slightly. There was always this thing about Spies - including the one on his team - that made him automatically distrusting of them. Maybe it was their sarcastic, condescending tone, or their unwillingness to be open about anything, ever. Maybe it was even the fact that they stabbed people in the back for a living. Who knew.

When the Scout's cautious silence had extended to several seconds - that was when the Spy coughed. "Just take zhe water." The Spy urged him quietly.

"You do not need to trust me," He said as his voice dropped into a slightly softer, maybe even gentler tone. "This is a reward for your compliance. Scout would want you alive, when he returns."

Scout, his jaw clenched in subconscious discomfort, begrudgingly gave in. He was thirsty, and he needed water. The Spy was right - he didn't need to trust him. He wasn't trying to save his life - he was just making sure his captive wasn't dead before the deal was over.

Slowly, he reached out for the metal flask with his bound hands, and began to drink. The feeling of water going down his throat was painful - but it was a good sort of pain, in a way. Somehow, it reminded him that he was still alive.

When he had drank down what was left of the water in the flask - he inhaled a breath of air, and slowly returned the flask to the outstretched hand of the RED Spy.

"..Sorry," Scout said quietly, almost sheepish. "I finished it."

Waving a hand with the cigarette in the air, the Spy dismissed him monotonously. "That is fine. I would not have expected anything less of you, juvénile. "

Catching Scout's hard glare in the reflection of his mirror, the Spy smirked slightly.

"It is a joke." He said softly as inhaled from the cigarette. "...You were unconscious in the middle of the desert. Most likely, you need the water more than I do."

The Scout raised his brow. This Spy was...admittedly, more pleasant than the one he was used to. By a long shot, actually.

It wasn't long before the two returned to a state of uncomfortable silence. The Spy had took out another cigarette, and was already consuming it as he reclined idly in the front seat, occasionally flicking some loose embers into the floor of the desolate barn that the car was parked in. As the Scout sat back in his space in the back seat - he began to wonder why the RED Spy was involved with the risky business of the RED Scout at all.

This was obviously a pretty personal matter to the RED Scout - not to mention very impulsive and precarious to anyone willing to be involved. And considering the Spy had mentioned it was his car - there was no doubt that he had chosen to be here.

But why? What did the Spy have to do with any of this?

Before the Scout could contemplate the matter any further, the Spy spoke up once more.

"...Do not worry." The Spy coughed quietly. "If your Medic is anything like ours - the boy will be back in no time. No harm will be done."

Tilting his head ever so slightly, Scout replied questioningly. "What's that gotta mean?"

Spy glanced up to his rear view mirror, meeting the Scout's gaze in the reflection. "I'm assuming he's very… reckless. With the private documents."

He inhaled from the cigarette once more. "Untidy, unruly, and loud - these hired Medics seem to be more interested in the progress of science - rather than the well-being of their patients, do they not?" He chuckled to himself. "I would not dare trust that Doctor with my life - much less my personal information. Like with everything they fix, they seem to expose and dissect first."

The Scout's expression was now visibly hardened. The Spy had taken to talking to himself - and he had not looked towards Scout's face to catch up on what he was thinking.

"...What if the documents weren't just lyin' around?" Scout asked quietly. "...What if they were behind locked, unlabeled cabinets and desk drawers? How were you two expectin' to find it?"

At this the Spy finally looked back at the Scout, the corner of his mouth slightly raised as if toying with the idea that a Medic could be responsible with any form of secretive information.

"But of course," He motioned slightly with his hand. "In that case the only method would be direct confrontation." He looked away from the mirror, setting his gaze on the cigarette in his hand. "The Medic - assuming he is in office when he doesn't need to work - is still in range of respawn." He exhaled coolly. "When intelligence is hard to obtain - there is only one way to find it that comes naturally to us. We are hired mercenaries, after all."

As the Scout's hard gaze turned into a glare, and his features darkened - the Spy flicked his fingers, throwing away what was left of his still-burning cigarette butt - into the dusty floor of the barn.

As the smoldering cigarette burnt away atop of many other crushed, blackened trash and finely disintegrated dust - the Spy finally turned his gaze to the rear view mirror.

"Torture, interrogate, and kill."