The Sniper put one calming hand on the Spy's shoulder while reaching for his kukri. The Spy couldn't stand it. He felt like his skin was being scorched through his suit.
'Damn, that's an impressive temperature you've got.'
The BLU wanted to make a break for it, wanted to just try and run though he knew he'd never make it out of the room. The Spy forced himself away from the wall and attempted to stand unaided. Instead he lost his balance and found himself falling forwards towards the Sniper, who instinctively caught him. The Australian almost gutted the Spy while trying to grab him, but moved his knife out of the way just in time. It would have been better for him if he hadn't.
It was awkward, trying to keep the Spy upright. He could only use one hand, so he had to hold the man to his chest to steady him. The whole holding an enemy in his arms thing was pretty damn awkward too. The Sniper wasn't a fan of physical contact under any circumstance, so having a man he hated and feared clinging to his vest was not a welcome development. It made the marksman's skin crawl, and he had a hard time stopping himself from shoving the Spy away from himself.
'Oh, fuck. Um, how about we just...' He tried to work out what the best move would be. 'Uh, put you down on the floor, careful like?' The Spy's forehead was pressed against his chest, and even through three layers of clothing and the BLU's mask, the Sniper could feel the heat radiating off of him. The Spy shook his head, leaving the Australian at a loss for what to do next. The grip on his vest was getting tighter and tighter. The Sniper assumed it was only because the Spy was struggling to keep himself upright, but it still made him uncomfortable. He wouldn't put it past his enemy to use this situation to his advantage somehow, even in this state.
'Look- just. Just let go of me, all right?'
The Spy only held on tighter.
'Get off!'
'Sorry,' the Spy whispered, in a voice so low and hoarse it was barely audible.
Now there was a first. Sniper was probably the first person on either team to have actually got an apology from a Spy. It was really kind of awkward, actually.
'Umm. That's okay, I'm uh, sure the creases will iron out...'
'No,' the BLU muttered, 'not for that.'
The Sniper tensed. This was the bit when the Spy revealed that he'd been faking it all along and then backstabbed him.
Except, that wasn't quite what happened.
Instead the masked man slowly raised his head and looked straight up at the Sniper. His expression was unreadable. He looked terrible, his skin pale and clammy, dark bags under his eyes, and-his eyes. They were like silver. How had the Sniper never noticed before? Sure, he wasn't in the habit of staring lovingly into the eyes of other mercenaries, but still... how could such an observant man as he have missed those eyes? They filled his vision. Mesmerising. The brightest silver eyes.
'I'm sorry,' the Spy said again, 'I'm sorry.'
Now his tight grip on the Sniper's clothes weren't there to just keep him on his feet anymore, they were to keep the RED in place.
Panic sparked in the back of the Sniper's mind, his fight or flight instincts screaming at him to either start punching or start running, right now. Except he couldn't. Even when the Spy tilted his head away, the ghostly after image of his eyes was branded into the Sniper's mind and he found himself unable to do anything but blink. Except every time he closed his eyes, the silver glow was waiting for him just behind his eyelids, clearer than ever.
'I'm sorry.' This time the words were breathed against his throat. The Sniper shuddered and grimaced. The Spy was the last person he wanted anywhere near his neck. Sometimes, when the Australian had been dominating him the day before, the Spy would bring a garotte onto the battlefield. It was such a simple little thing, just a length of flexible wire between two polished wooden handle. But those deaths... those deaths were the worst. A thin strip of steel wrapped around his neck, cutting, chocking. Raw, unadulterated panic. Fingers frantically scrabbling for a hold. The Spy's elbows digging into his back as the Sniper did everything he could to try and throw the man off. But it never helped.
It must have been a scarce few minutes before he died each time but it was amazing how each one could stretch out to feel like years while he desperately struggled to breath. Then the next thing he'd know would be the sterile white lights of the resupply room, and a tight feeling across his throat that would linger all day.
This time though, what he felt was something sharp scratch against his throat, and a second later, a stab of pain. The Sniper yelped in shock, jolting himself out of the trance-like state he's been in. His first thought was that the Spy had got him with his knife. It'd be just like him to try and lure the Sniper in close enough to shove a blade into the side of his neck. Except he'd seen the butterfly knife go clattering to the floor...and unless the Spy was holding another blade between his teeth, the RED really couldn't see how he could have managed that at all...
The second thought was, 'run!' as his brain ground back into gear. He immediately tried to pull away from the Spy. Or at least, he meant to. But the panicked signals firing off from his brain didn't seem to be reaching any of his limbs.
'What the-what the fuck? What are you doing?'
Usually the Sniper did his best to keep fear out of his voice, especially around the enemy Spy. But this situation... it was too strange. Too surreal. Too painful. Too wrong. He couldn't help it.
The BLU pulled away from his neck, taking whatever he'd used to injure the Sniper with him. Now the only thing shaky about him seemed to be his breathing as he let go of the marksman's vest and wrapped his arms around the RED. Being hugged by Death himself wouldn't have felt any less ominous to the Sniper.
The wound on his neck was bleeding profusely; the sharpshooter could feel dampness spreading down his throat to his chest. Whatever the Spy had stabbed him with, it seemed to be poisonous. Not only did his body fell frozen in place, but there was also an unpleasantly hot feeling radiating under his skin.
'I'm sorry,' the Spy repeated. 'I have to.'
Then he tightened his hold on the Sniper and clamped his jaw down over the first injury. Razor-sharp teeth cut into the RED's flesh, anchoring his mouth in place.
The Sniper made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Then the tugging, pulling sensation began. There was nothing he could do. Inside he was screaming at his right arm to just lift his kukri and stab it into the Spy's back. Instead, he felt the handle slip from his numb fingers and heard the knife go clattering to the ground. The Spy flinched at the sound, and clutched the Sniper closer to him.
His breath was coming out in short, ragged bursts, accompanied by little whimpers of pain. Everything about this situation was impossible and horrible. Something straight out of a nightmare. Except even the worst of dreams could never hurt him like this.
'Stop it. Oh god. Please, please, please, stop it!' The Sniper was a proud man. No matter how bad things got, no matter how badly he was injured or which BLU had him cornered, he'd never once begged for mercy. Not until now.
Briefly, the Spy's arms tightened around him again in the gross parody of a reassuring hug. It could have been a silent apology. It could have been an expression of triumph. It could have been mockery. The Sniper had no way of knowing which.
By now he was the one that was shaking uncontrollably, and it was the Spy who was having to keep him upright. Whatever debilitating weakness that had effected the masked man earlier was gone now though. Even if he'd been able to move, chances were he would have been unable to escape the Spy's grip.
The Sniper began to feel a though the whole world was being swept away from him. Or as though someone was painting over the scene one brush stroke at a time, slowly reducing everything around him to darkness.
Then he felt himself being released and the cold floorboards rushed up to meet him as his legs gave way beneath him. Numb with shock and pain and blood loss, all the Sniper could manage to do was lay there. He wanted to clap a hand over his neck to stem the bleeding. He wanted to get up. He wanted to run a thousand miles away and never look back. He wanted to stab that masked BLU son of a bitch million times over. He wanted to world to stop spinning. He wanted to stop feeling so damn hot.
But all he could do was stare up at the high ceiling above him and try to keep breathing.
The Spy staggered back until he reached a wall and then slowly slid down it to the floor. Normally he'd avoid these dusty, dirty corners like the plague, but at the moment it really didn't seem to matter. His clothes were already ruined. The Sniper had got a lot of blood on his suit. And down his throat. The Spy lit a cigarette that tasted like copper and stared at the limp form of his nemesis. The Australian was still breathing. The wet, ragged sound filled the room. The fighting beyond it had long moved on, with the odd, distant explosions being the only sign that the round was still going on.
The Spy had a lot to think about. An uncertain future yawned before him like a chasm, with only a meagre hope of questions to his many answers. The 'V' word presented itself, and he pushed it away. No. This was all just... impossible. It couldn't be true. Yet there lay the Sniper, puncture wounds at his neck. And here sat the Spy, covered in his enemy's blood, clenching a cigarette behind one wickedly sharp and elongated canine tooth.
He had to decide what to do with the Sniper. No matter his decision, the future was going to be a whole lot more complicated from now on. He pulled himself to his feet with ease, all the aches and pains of that morning forgotten. He felt good as new. Better than new. Fantastic. The whole world around him seemed to be in high definition. The sights, the smells, the sounds, everything was sharper than ever before.
The Spy scooped up his butterfly knife and crouched down on his haunches next to the Sniper. The poor man didn't even seem to register the BLU's presence, he just kept on staring fixedly at the ceiling through those dreadful aviators of his.
There were two options here. He could leave the Sniper alive, or kill him. If he left him, chances were the marksman's death would be slow enough that by the time respawn finally claimed him, the effects of what had happened would become permanent. He'd feel like hell on earth until someone got too close and he couldn't resist the bite, then he'd end up as a- as, something like the Spy. No. That option wouldn't do.
'I'm sorry.' the Spy murmured one last time. The RED seemed to notice him then, his blank gaze settling on to the creature beside him. Usually the Spy would have enjoyed seeing his enemy looking so weak and defeated, but now it just left him feeling sick.
Without another word, he wrenched back the Sniper's jaw and slit his throat in one swift movement. He made sure to cut deep into the neck and sever one of the main arteries. It was amazing how long people could take to chock to death on their own blood otherwise.
Killing the Sniper had been the merciful thing to do. The Spy kept telling himself that. Chances were he'd sent the man through respawn quick enough that all traces of the damage he'd done would be removed. The Sniper would stay human. He wouldn't have to go through the shaking and the pain and the headaches and the temperatures. He wouldn't have to become a danger to everybody around him, team mates included. The Spy had saved him from all of that.
He ignored the nagging little voice in the back of his head that told him he just hadn't wanted to have any competition from another predator.
There was another thought that was harder to ignore though. He could buy the Sniper's silence with promises not to hurt the other REDs. And he could persuade the man to let the Spy bite him again with threats against them. The Sniper was so sickeningly protective when it came to the rest of his team...
But of course it wasn't about that. It was about mercy. The Spy wasn't the bad guy here, he was the original victim after all! He hadn't asked for any of this! He'd never wanted any of this to happen!
The monster known to those around him only as the BLU Spy slunk out of the room, his mind spinning with arguments protesting his own innocence.