A/N: I am going to apologize in advance for the lack of length in this chapter, but quite a bit happens, and I did not really want to add on the next part to this, simply because it ends really well right there. So here is another update for you all! The hotel here is terrible, and there is only internet in the lobby, so it may just happen that I end up writing the next chapter up in our room~! Maybe. ouo
Most irrelevant author's note aside, Reviews are greatly appreciated! They inspire me to hurry up and write the next chapter, tell me what I'm conveying incorrectly or poorly, how I'm displaying the characters and if that makes any sense at all, and whether or not you guys enjoy it! Kindly drop a review on your way out, please~
Enjoy!
It took half an hour for the rest of the team to meander in, and when they had all arrived, Soldier stomped in, looking angrier than words could express.
"Goddamn Frenchie, always holding us up! Where the hell is Spy!" he shouted at no one in particular, and Scout frowned, confused. He glanced over at the corner where Spy was standing, uncloaked for once, and thought back. The runner remembered watching Spy walk in with the rest of them, slipping by Engineer and behind Demoman. Soldier apparently didn't see the Frenchman, and kept on shouting obscenities about the 'goddamn ski-mask-wearing-baguette-eating-daughter-of-a-pansy-who-wouldn't-understand-a-bullet-if-it-hit-him-in-the-ass'.
"Yo', man, he's right over there," Scout finally spoke up, pointing to the corner where Spy was standing. The Frenchman's eyes widened in shock interlaced with horror, and the runner frowned back at him. The team turned to look at the corner and, upon seeing nothing, turned back grumpily, as if expecting a customary 'haha made ya' look!' When it never came, they looked back into the corner and still saw nothing.
In a flash, Spy crossed the room and grabbed Scout by the front of his shirt, pulling him out of his seat. The team muttered in surprise,
"What the—"
"Bloody—"
"Fuck!" and the runner grabbed at Spy's wrist, pressing buttons on the latter's watch as he attempted to escape his grasp.
"Spah?"
"How did you know?" the Frenchman nearly shouted in Scout's face, and the runner squirmed, hanging from Spy's grip on his shirt.
"What are you talkin' about, man? You were jest standin' there!" Scout answered in kind, mildly terrified for his life.
"Hey now, Spah', let him—"
"How. Did. You. See. Me?" Spy punctuated the space between each word with a shake, and Scout ground his teeth together, trying to pry the Frenchman's fingers off of him.
"You weren't hidin' or nuthin'!" the runner shouted, watching Spy's anger fester and broil, and he flinched when the older man glared at him.
"Hold on now, partner!" Engineer was there, suddenly, trying to pull Spy off of Scout. Demo moved to assist him, and together they managed to get the Frenchman's hand off of the runner, causing Scout to drop down to his feet, barely keeping his balance. "I don't quite know what jes' happened, but ya' can't go 'round attackin' yer teammates fer nuthin'," the Texan reasoned, standing between the runner and the Frenchman. Spy glared daggers at him too, and fixed his suit with a huff.
Scout glanced around the room and saw Medic scrutinizing him, Sniper frowning, Soldier looking bewildered, and Heavy not paying any attention.
"Scout! Explain how you just located a cloaked spy!" Soldier shouted, regaining his voice, his expression returning to his usual anger.
"Cloaked? Naw, man. He was just standin' there, like I already told you!" Scout's voice wavered in the slightest, and he glared at Spy again, uncomfortable with the entire team looking at him so strangely.
"Then why didn't the rest of us see him?" the general questioned, spittle flying from the corners of his lips.
"I don't know!" the runner shouted, his back rigid.
"So, Herr Scout can see cloaked spies, now. Perhaps he can also see through disguises?" Medic asked, his voice not even needing to carry over Soldier's half-formed roar.
"What the hell, Doc'! I can't see through nuthin', alright?" Scout replied, turning to face the German.
"It seems that you can. Knowing why is unimportant." Medic shrugged, and a silence settled over the room. Spy looked almost…uneasy, under that carefully prepared stoicism that he always wore. Soldier almost seemed thoughtful, and the expression ill befitted him. Then he grinned – a dark, menacing thing – and did not take long to explain the source of his joy.
"We have a new spy checker! Scout! You are to remain with Sniper and survey the battlefield for RED's Spy! Take him by surprise!"
"Fine, whatever," Scout grumbled, willing to say anything to get him out of the spotlight. Certainly, he adored attention, but in situations of his own creations, not because of circumstances he didn't understand.
"Everyone else! Same instructions! We will kill them, no matter what it takes! DISMISSED, LADIES." Soldier had this uncanny ability to make a room clear out far quicker than he could make it fill up, Scout noticed. Spy walked away, but not before glaring furiously at the runner, and Scout hazarded a guess that the man was cloaked. The rest of the team left as well, and Scout hurried so that he would not be the last one there.
He grabbed his pack on the way out and saw Sniper waiting for him in the hall, waving him over as he walked up the stairs to his perch. "Looks like yer with me today, mate," the Australian said as they walked together.
"Dunno' what you guys expect me to do. I can't see invisible spies 'er nuthin', man," Scout complained, pulling his bat out and swinging it in time with his strides.
"Well, you pointed over to a corner, an' then you were picked up by nothin' at all, an' then Spy materialized. I'm gunna' assume 'at you saw 'im the entire time, and the rest of us couldn't. I don't know what 'at is, but you sure saw a cloaked spy," Sniper explained, unsheathing his kukuri as they reached the top of the stairs. He walked into the room cautiously, scanning the area for movement or anything unnatural. He knew where everything was supposed to be, down to the rotation of his mug. No one had been in his nest.
Scout followed, sitting down on a box by the doorway, making certain he had a clear view of the staircase. He did not know how Soldier expected him to see RED's Spy in the field from here – the hole that he had broken into the wall a few days before had been fixed, and there was room enough only for Sniper's rifle. But everyone knew how much Spies loved harassing – and trying to kill – Snipers, so at least he could be of some use here.
Tucking his bat away, the runner pulled out his Scattergun, made sure it was loaded, and then sat back against the wall, forcing himself to sit still and watch the corridor. He would get restless at some point or another, but then he could find another place to sit, or stretch, or something. It wasn't like he was looking for moving shadows, anyway, but a completely unconcealed Spy in a red suit.
How hard could it be to spot him?
The answer, it seemed, was 'too easy.'
After the battle had started, Scout kept his eyes open for the Spy, giving Sniper the chance to fully immerse himself in his scope and not have to worry about being caught unawares. Several times, the sound of the rifle's familiar echoing boom stunned Scout, and he wondered how the man had not gone deaf yet. Regardless, he did not hear any shouts of triumph from the Australian or their teammates, and he had to assume that the man was not going for headshots, though there was no way to know.
After one particularly loud shot, Scout spotted a red blur push around the corner and slink up the stairs. The runner stood abruptly and stepped out into the hallway, Scattergun aimed straight at the spy's face. The RED seemed surprised, frowning and looking over himself and at his watch.
"I can see you, dumbass," he announced, bored. The spy's eyes narrowed, and he was no doubt wondering if Scout was lying, or bluffing. Or if he had slipped up. "Get out of here, ya' rat, before I make ya' shapeshift into a dead guy."
Still, the RED said nothing, even daring to take a step forward. Scout scowled, his nose wrinkling in distaste.
"I hate when people don't take me seriously," he muttered, his gun following the spy. When the man still did not leave, he turned the shotgun suddenly and fired at the wall beside him. One of the shards in the spray hit the RED's balaclava, tearing through the fabric and cutting into his cheek. "Next time, I'll make sure your brains are out of your head. Go away!"
The spy seemed shocked then, a hand – unarmed, Scout realized in a moment – going up to touch his cheek. He looked a tad afraid, and walked backwards down the stairs, getting halfway before turning. Scout spat on the ground in front of him, turning to re-enter the room.
Sniper was sitting up, looking at him with a frown. "Why didn't you kill 'im?"
Scout shrugged, looking away, suddenly uncomfortable. "s'not his fault I can see him."
"So? It's not 's if RED showed you mercy." Sniper seemed frustrated, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.
"'m not RED, am I?" Scout asked, plopping himself down on the seat he had claimed. He reloaded his gun in the following silence, the shells clattering to the ground, only accenting the fact that neither of the two were speaking. The explosions and gunshots outside sounded miles away.
"'e'll come back, you know," the Australian eventually said, returning to his scope.
"You think he can sneak past me without a cloak 'r disguise? 'sides, I told 'im I'd kill 'im if he came closer. He comes back, he's dead meat. And he knows it." Scout suddenly wished he had something to chew on, something to do, anything to keep moving. The restlessness hit him with a sudden ferocity he hadn't expected, and he set down his gun, crossing his arms. A few moments later, he picked up his Scattergun again, and sat back.
"And if yer not here?" Scout felt as if Sniper were upset that he hadn't killed the RED. He had always thought that the Australian would want to do it himself, because of their unending rivalry and hatred for each other. Perhaps he was wrong.
"You ain't usually caught unawares." The runner wondered if he should regret not killing the man. But then, RED's Spy had been the distraction that got their soldier and sniper to stop torturing him, so he supposed there was that to think of. Even if the arrow that started it all was Sniper's own.
Regardless, Scout still didn't feel quite right killing anyone when he knew they would not be getting up again in five minutes. It was different, though he knew that was a poor excuse to any outsider. This…they life they had, it was almost like it was a game – death certainly wasn't anything final. But now, now everything changed, despite Soldier's firm belief that it hadn't. It was not the same when you were killing someone for real, when you had to watch the dying flare in an enemy's eyes sputter out, and then knew that they wouldn't see anything again.
As loathe as he was to admit to himself – and he would certainly never admit it aloud – Scout was…almost afraid of killing anyone. Being around real death, the desperation for survival, it did things to one's mind.
Whatever it did, Scout didn't like it.
The silence stretched on for what seemed ages, though it could have been only ten minutes – Sniper didn't keep a clock up here, and one could not look at the sun to discern the time; though it would be a joke for one to assume that Scout could even use such a method. When, finally, he heard a sound other than Sniper's rifle, he stood, listening closely.
Scout heard a quite thump, and then another one, the sound dull, barely reaching his ears. He held his gun before him, running down the steps before Sniper could utter a protest, and skid out into the hallway, checking both sides quickly as he pressed his back to the opposite wall. Nothing there.
He heard the sound again, quieter, and ran down the length of hall, about to pass an empty hallway adjoining the one Scout was in, before forcing himself to slide to a stop. Inside, he had glanced and seen something red. Everything in their base was blue. The runner entered the hallway, doubly cautious, and looked around, before realizing that the red shape curled on its hands and knees was a person.
"I told ya' to go away, ya' rat!" Scout snarled, stepping forward. RED's Spy seemed to curl closer to the floor at the words, and the runner frowned, instantly suspicious. No spy would ever let himself appear afraid. No matter the consequences. "What's the matter, backstabber? Lost your tongue on the way out?"
The RED's only response was an agonized groan.
"Did ya' get 'im?" Sniper asked over the channel, sounding oddly anxious.
"Man, it wasn't me, but I can betcha' somethin' did. He's all curled up on the ground here. Won't even look me in the eyes. Somethin's up, but I ain't got a clue what."
"Shoot him and get it over with!" Soldier barked in his ear.
"Vait. You said he is subdued, ja?" Medic inquired suddenly.
"Sure, man. He isn't movin' 'r anythin'." To prove this, Scout kicked the man in the ribs – not hard enough to break anything, but with enough force to push him over. The RED rolled onto his side without resistance, his eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted in pain. "Whatever's got 'im hurt 'im bad, though. I'd say he's dyin', but there ain't no blood."
"Vhere are you?" As soon as Scout answered him, he was given a curt, "I am coming." The runner leaned against the wall, keeping his gun trained on the RED, scanning the hallway for any enemies coming to their teammate's rescue.
"Yer' in for a load of trouble, ya' shapeshifting rat," Scout announced in a bored tone. Then, abruptly, he wondered how his mother would feel about this. In the next instant, he realized he didn't quite care. After all, his ma' had been with many men during Scout's childhood. One stupid Frenchie wouldn't make a difference.
Medic arrived shortly after, Heavy following the German as quickly as he could, aiming Sasha out into the hallway, searching for enemies. Medic knelt beside the RED, examining him quickly. Then, with a glint in his eye, the German leaned over and pressed against the back of the spy's neck, hard.
RED's Spy screamed.
Scout had returned to Sniper's nest after the incident with the spy, though he had outlived his usefulness in such a position. He was a little shaken up after what he had seen, remembering all too well the single point of agony that had been in his own neck with a sudden clarity.
Is that what Medic had messed with when he had gone under? The runner shook his head, trying to get the memory to go away.
"'re you alright, mate? You've been shaking your head for the last ten minutes," Sniper asked, and Scout realized he had not been looking into his scope. Silence filled the air outside too, and he realized the battle must have ended. When had that happened?
"'m fine…" he muttered in return, putting away his Scattergun almost sheepishly, as if having it out after the battle was something to be ashamed of.
"Maybe you were right about not killin' their spy. 'e seems to have caught Medic's interest," the Australian told him, and Scout realized that he was apologizing, in his own way.
"Thanks, man," Scout replied quietly, clasping his bandaged hands together and focusing on them.
"Somethin's botherin' you." It was not a question, Scout realized.
Instead of replying, the runner stood, shrugging, and headed toward the door. "I'll see ya' at dinner," he said, and walked out, trotting down the stairs and heading for his room. He could feel a phantom of that same agony in his neck, as if seeing it in another had prompted his body to make him suffer again. He would rather not be stumbling around like a blind drunk if it decided to hit again.
He sat in his room for a while, massaging at his neck despite the lack of real pain there. When he got too restless for that, he went out behind their base to jog a bit. Scout tossed his pack down by the door, switched off his headset, and ran.