Every bang, Scout noticed, elicited a subsequent flutter of dusty flakes that in turn caked the cold floor upon which he sits, coating it with an ancient, untouched and unswept look. Scout, who sat huddled still in the concealing alcove in BLU's basement, sniper rifle tangled in his arms, had to agree with his conscious in that dust and dirt of unknowing origins was much preferred to the alternative of smeared blood or something equally as unpleasant garnishing the tiles of the cellar.
Microscopic particles catch in his eyelashes, resting against the short brown strands without any point of pressure or weight. He shuts them, for they tear up as the result of irritation, and all he can do is hope that his life should not be taken from him in his voluntary blindness. As the collision of yet another of RED's rockets makes itself known against the iron structure of BLU's fortress, melting away at the steel and nails holding together that what is essentially Scout's only refuge, he can only draw the rifle closer to his body, as if the firearm would have any lethal say against the kamikaze like onslaught of a bazooka. The ceiling above him shakes, and the beeping of his Engineer's sentry, whose mechanical whirl from which he'd managed to extract somewhat of a morbid comfort, is thankfully still on its regulatory auditorial track despite the pummel of explosive damage the base takes. Each beep of the turret was a signal to Scout that he wasn't alone in the base should REDs be able to break through Jane's chokehold in the battlements and attempt to charge it.
Scout gulps as the same sensation of uselessness, that had been creeping in the form of fear since the beginning of the battle, aches at his wired mind now than with more intensity than before. RED's surprise attack on their terrain and attempt to infiltrate their defenses had done much to fry what was left of the Bostonian's nerves. And yet the Administrator allowed it. Unauthorised strikes against the team were up until this point considered tactically invalid. Perhaps it was his punishment, he ponders hysterically. Perhaps he'd brought this Hell upon his own comrades with his actions, action's he'd fought to keep hidden for so long…
His frame shakes slightly as his arms press along the cool firearm he still cradles, his back slamming in gentle jerks against the concrete of the cellar walls he prays hold up for the sake of his life. His eyes are wide and his teeth clamp down onto the flesh of his chapped and irritated lips, for he'd been licking at them nervously throughout the duration of his retreat.
The flow of disbelief and hysteria still pulses and blinds his thought process in overwhelming flashes and scathing reminders of just whom the rifle he embraces against his chest initially belonged to, the very same 'whom' he'd attempted to kill twenty minutes ago...
The madness of war really was a cruel reality, very much real and alive, for it and it only took slight chances of exposure to bring an otherwise clear thinking young man to cling to the weapon of his technical enemy like a mother ready to protect her beloved son. Scout can no longer hide his sob, a telltale quiver of his bottom lip alerting him physically of this fact. If death were to come, he silently reasons overtop his increasingly heavier breathing, then so be it; the drone of the sentry upstairs has stopped, which only meant nothing stood in between the young man and what he hoped was a painless death, a surrender void of humiliation.
The very fever and heat that bubbles in the pores of his sweat drenched skin settles into his mind as well, dulling his emotions before they are able to build a violent enough stagger of incalculable rage and helplessness within him. Wiping his eyes firmly, Lawrence can only allow the memory of his attempted murder of Sniper to play before him, in distorted recollections that grow longer and longer in their duration every time his mind's eye dwells on the happening.
'I can't believe I actually did it...'
"Charge the basement, boys, there's no way anyone in there can hold out for any longer—!"
Scout knew that voice, the Soldier it belonged to enjoyed reigning a distinct humiliation upon his dominated enemies. More dust trickles from the ceiling, and Lawrence shrieks as the poorly barricaded door snaps off its hinges and slams anti climactically against the floor. Scout's heart races as he dares a glance upon his intruder, and the frame of Jack finds itself in the now vacated space. Slowly, the young man retracts his legs closer to his body, and his eyes widen in a silent attempt to express that what a gasp or yelp normally would in such a situation.
"Heh, would y'look at that; the whole rest o'your team's givin' it all they got'n you're hidin' away in here 'bout ready t'piss all over yourself! Oh what, y'gonna actually kill me this time?!" Jack teases, Scout hoisting himself to his feet, lifting the rifle in what he intends to be a menacing manner, though he is much too hesitant in his motions to fool him Jack into submission. His eyes waver nervously up at the Australian, his teeth bared from attempted defense.
"You're right pathetic, mate; look at you, y'can't even hold the damn thing without stumblin' around!" Sniper snaps, snatching his very own rifle from Lawrence's hands, Scout slipping backwards and falling on his backside.
"Let alone aim or kill me with it—you're lucky y'didn't break an arm or two with your God awful posture…"
Scout says nothing, the whole of his conscious focused on the floor. He jumps as Sniper tosses the firearm, though his expression remains the same in its poor attempt at a pouty fierceness.
"You didn't really think you could kill me with that aim o'yours, did ya? Or were ya countin' on a lucky shot?!"
Scout scoffs, arms folded across his chest. The two are silent for the most painful ten seconds of Scout's life, Sniper's ears tuned acutely in an effort to pick of the sound of approaching BLUs—he was standing in their base (albeit hidden in a rather safe alcove in the basement) in the midst of an argument with their youngest, after all, and standing over him with his rifle would certainly warrant aggression in his direction, for only Heinrich knew of their relationship.
"Honestly, you're lucky y'hit the dirt, even—with aim like that you'd prolly end up shootin' your own eye out if y'held'er any longer," Jack mocks, and Scout, unable to listen any further, turns his aggravated expression onto the Australian before him.
"I just tried fuckin' killing you, and the only fuckin' thing you can talk about is my aim?!" Scout cries, and Sniper responds to the fuming young man's inquiry with a careless chuckle.
"'S not like it's anythin' worth gettin' worked up over! With your sharpshootin'—well, dunno if I can call 'em skills—the sound o'the bullet flyin' 'cross the 'Fort was more menacin' than you!" Sniper shakes his head. "Honestly, you could barely lift 'er off the ground! Poor Matilda prolly had a heart attack when your grimy little fingers tried pickin' 'er up—!"
"Why do you keep sayin' that, how the fuck do you know I couldn't lift your stupid shit?! You weren't even fuckin' there, Jack!"
"Didn't even have the courtesy t'invite me t'my own attempted murder," Jack tisks, Lawrence placing his hands over his ears and shaking his head violently.
"But I didn't even have t'be there, love, it was plain obvious with the way you were holdin' 'er when I looked up'nd saw ya in the window! Slippin' 'nd topplin' all over the place!"
"You're fuckin' nuts," Scout shakes his head, emitting a nervous chuckle. "Fuckin' nuts—I had a gun aimed at ya!"
"Obviously ya didn't, 'cause, ya see, this is how a sniper rifle works: ya aim for the head, 'nd if you're on target, the head quits functionin,;"
"Fuck you—"
"'Nd obviously I still got mine—"
"Can't you just take me seriously?! For one second?!" Scout hisses, tossing his bat furiously, staring the man down with an aggressive challenge.
"Listen, Lawrence, it's kinda hard for me t'take you for an actual threat when you're standin' here, beggin' for me t'do so—'specially when you can barely handle the weapon you're countin' on t'save your life—'bout ready to cry your eyes out! Right, right, look at you! You're tryin' t'hide 'em now, but I see 'em!" Jack chuckles as the young man lunges for him, roaring from pent up frustration.
"You're lucky I decided t'come down here 'nd not my mates!"
His fists strike Sniper's chest in half hearted swipes, though Sniper can only sigh as he takes them into his hands, pulling the young man so he falls into his arms and against his chest.
"S'alright, love," Sniper mumbles in his ear, his hand smoothing over Scout's back calmingly, the other curling in his hair. "'S no need for the tears, now…" Sniper assures him, the distinct wetness sliding in warming droplets along the crook of his neck.
"Larry," Sniper mumbles again, giving him a loving squeeze, pulling Scout even closer to him in his embrace. He sighs, looking over his shoulder. "I know things're rough for ya, love," he begins, his fingers curling in Scout's cropped hair. "'Nd I wanna be there for ya, I really do, love—but I can't help ya none if ya don't tell me what's goin' on,"
Scout says nothing, though Jack can tell words form in his hectic mind.
"Y'gonna tell me what the Hell this whole thing's about?! Why this Dmitri's runnin' around tryin' t'kill us 'nd why your arse is disappearin' for days at a time?! Or maybe why you're tryin t'kill me?!"
"She knows!" Scout whispers, slipping from Sniper's embrace and checking about the closet for eavesdroppers, despite the fact the whole of the pantry can only fit the two of them. He brushes the older man out of the way, Sniper responding with a disgruntled "watch it!" as Scout pushes the door back into the frame, shoving a large sack of flour in front of it to hoist it up.
"She who, Lawrence? 'Nd what does she know?"
"The Administrator kinda knows, ya know—about us..." he explains carefully, avoiding the man's eye.
"WHAT?!"
Sniper stares blankly at the young man, as if giving him a few seconds to dry his face with a swift swipe of the back of his hand with a passionate 'SURPRISE!' to follow shortly thereafter. Instead the Australian receives a curt nod from Lawrence, who opens his mouth widely to keep going.
"Bugger me, Larry,;"
"Dmitri told her.."
"'Nd how the Hell did he know?!"
"R-remember when we came back from leave a few months ago? After the whole date thing? And how we were fightin'?!"
"How could I ever forget?!"
"I was talkin' with Doc in the bay about us, and he just kinda came in. He acted like he didn't hear nothin', but lookin' back on it, he musta heard everything,"
"Y'fuckin' kiddin' me?!"
"Nah, I ain't jokin'! The next mornin' he was all, 'I hear you with RED's sharpshooter' or some bullshit—talkin' 'bout it was cute and sweet'n shit, then the next thing I knew he threatened to tell the Administrator if I didn't make 'im happy,"
""Nd what does that mean, love,"
"Well, he wanted money, so I had to pay him to shut up, and I did; for months, actually, but I only get so much per mission, ya know? and I mean, dude wanted a ton of from me,"
"Why in the world didn't y'tell me, Lawrence?!"
"'Cause I didn't want you freakin' out'n makin' things worse! I didn't know what the fuck, Jack, I panicked! Besides, I—I was handlin' it on my own just fine!"
"Yeah, up until the point where he starts cloakin' about 'nd buggerin' ya! What'n the fuck's that about, love?! Why is your team's Spy pretendin' t'be me 'nd havin' sex with ya, 'nd how in the bloody Hell does that equate t'you handlin' everything jus' fine in your head?!"
"I wasn't expectin' him to do nothin'!"
"Funny how he literally did!"
"Look, are you done with the fuckin' snark?! I'm bein' serious, here! It ain't like I fuckin' seduced him, Jack! Dude pretended to be you, did me 'nd took pictures of the whole thing!"
"Bloody pervert, he is!"
"I don't think he wanted me, Jack. Nah, it didn't have nothin' to do with wantin' me; I think it was 'cause I couldn't pay no more—'nd he came at me, with those pictures, sayin' that I was your slut'nd shit, that he had proof, and that if I didn't pay 'im five hundred in a week, the Administrator would know all about it!"
"For fuck's sake, Larry, why—didn't—you—tell—me—?!"
"Well, I didn't just have that kind'o money layin' around—!"
"You're a bloody idiot, I would have given it t'ya in a heartbeat!"
"Yeah, but what, was I supposed to expect you to give me the money without you wonderin' why I needed it?!" Lawrence shrieks, and Jack bites down on his bottom lip admittedly.
"When your team mate's humpin' ya 'nd threatenin' t'out your insubordinate homosexual relationship with your enemy, it might be time t'put things like me wantin' t'know why y'need five hundred bucks aside!"
"Well I was kinda ankle deep in this shit, 'nd I can't tell nobody, 'nd fuckin' Luc was on my case sayin' I was actin' weird 'nd suspicious'nd that if I didn't tell him what was goin' on he'd say somethin' to you—I told him to butt out or else I'd break his fuckin' neck,"
"You're drivin' me mad with your right stupid choices, love,"
"Not that it fuckin' mattered, 'cause I wake up on a Tuesday, ready to take on Granary and kick RED's fuckin' asses 'n give Dmitri his money when Jane pulls me out of bed with that Miss Pauling sayin' the Administrator wanted me in her office— musta been tired of waitin' for me to pay and gave her the pictures anyway,"
"Holy Shit…"
"She's freakin' scary, Jack, she's—she's psycho, even, U wasn't expectin' the 'meeting' with her to take two days, man—but—I thought I was a goner, 'n I was so afraid, Jack, you have no fuckin' idea, 'nd I thought for sure that when she was done with me she was gonna summon you too!"
"How're you still alive, love?!"
"Ha, well—she kinda said it would be a waste o'my skill to just let me go, so she told me to 'prove my loyalty' by killin' you,"
"So she didn't hurt you?"
"Nah, she just—" but he clams up, and Sniper clears his throat in an attempt to jar him from his thoughts. "She put a gun to my head and told me to kill you!"
"So you break into my van, steal Matilda, run away t'your battlements, 'nd try doin' me in with some of the lousiest attempts at snipin' I've ever seen—"
"Would you shut the fuck up about my aim?!"
"All I'm sayin' is that you would'a been better off tryin' t'get me at point blank with your little scattergun o'yours, 'specially if your life was dependent on the status o'my own—"
"I said shut it, wombat,"
"Just a little joke, Larry, no need t'take it like your Doc handles 'em..."
"Shit won't be so funny when we're fuckin' dead," Lawrence snaps, Jack responding with a simple sigh and scratch behind his neck. "Good Lord, that's a jam, love—well, least we don't have t'worry 'bout keepin' it all a secret, huh?"
"I don't think the others know, Jack..."
"Hm—s'pose it doesn't make a difference at this point, eh?"
Scout shrugs.
"Jus' wished y'had told me a bit sooner…"
"Yeah, sorry, I—wasn't thinkin',"
"Well, seein' as I'm still alive—which shouldn't come as a surprise t'you—"
"Don't even say it, Jack,"
"If the Administrator knows I'm still runnin' around, what does that mean for you?"
"Hell if I know,"
Scout plops downward, back against the wall, wrists resting on his knees.
"I ain't had a chance to think that far,"
"I guess you thought that shot was gonna make it, eh? Figured y'wouldn't need to," Sniper chuckles darkly, sitting himself comfortably next to the young man. Sniper's melancholy smirk is met by an exhausted sideways glance of Scout's, his cheeks puffed and lips pursed, as if he were determined not to retch all over the very floor they sit upon. "That you could go ahead'n pump me full o'my own lead'n that would be the end of it,"
"Don't even fuckin' say that!" Scout shouts, though his frame wracks in a lurching hiccup. "Standin' there, with that gun, thinkin' that—it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, Jack! It wasn't no 'fuckin' end of nothin'—"
Sniper sighs, wrapping an affectionate arm around his shoulder, pulling Scout closer to him. "'S'alright, no need t'get so worked up, love, I shouldn'ta put it like that..."
"Standin' there, in that window, waitin' for you—you ain't got no idea what that felt like for me!" Scout continues however. "I—I didn't—I couldn't shoot you—even if I could have aimed at ya, I never coulda done it, Jack!" Scout turns his head to face the man who holds him, and the expression that meets him nearly petrifies the Australian; Scout's muscles are relaxed into a silent calm, a weary seriousness and worry laced resignation emanating from him in negative waves. Sniper'd never seen his Lawrence so desperate; the older man opens his mouth as if to inquire what it was Scout wanted him to do, though before the words establish themselves proper, Jack ponders on just what it was there was he even could do.
"So then that means I'm dead!" the young man whispers, Sniper still unable to respond in any sort of meaningful way, or assure him a wide smile and broad clasp on the shoulder that this turmoil and anguish on his behalf was simply a product of his over reactive conscious. "When she figures out that I couldn't do it, she'll have my ass for it, man,"
"Then do it, Lawrence!"
"Are you fuckin' crazy?! I ain't gonna kill you!" Scout snaps firmly, giving the man an exasperated punch on the shoulder.
"'Nd if you think I'm gonna let you suffer any more than you already have by stickin' around, you're mistaken, love," Jack sighs. "If dyin' keeps y'alive..."
"And what about you, Jack? You - you think I'm just gonna turn you in to save myself?! You ain't gotta fuckin' die!" Lawrence shrieks, fists balled defiantly at his sides.
"'S not what you've been tellin' me, you said the Administrator wants my life in exchange for yours, no? All this time I was worried lovin' me was gonna get you killed!"
"I ain't gonna kill you, I can't and I won't Jack, so shut the fuck up!"
"Then I'll kill myself, 'nd you'd do well t'pretend like it was you who fired the shot—"
"NO! Fuck you, fuck the Administrator, fuck Dmitri, fuck whoever wants you dead'nd whoever wants me to do it, 'cause I ain't, 'nd I don't ca—"
Scout instantly relaxes as Sniper's ungloved fingers curl behind his head, the man taking Scout's lips into his in a gentle sweep, hushing Scout of his frenzied rant. "Alright, you don't have t'kill me if you don't wanna," Sniper grumbles moodily, allowing Scout to kiss the corner of his mouth absentmindedly. "Only you would sound disappointed about not dyin'..." Lawrence mumbles. "But if my bein' alive just makes it all worse, I swear I won't ever forgive ya," Jack chuckles in return.
Sniper grunts as he shifts so his back presses itself firmly against the cool steel of the basement walls, Scout curling in Sniper's embrace and resting his head against his shoulder. "Now you're just makin' it sound like you want me to kill ya," he attempts to joke, though the soft excuse of the typical laugh he usually sports does nothing to hide the salty residue an escaped tear or two was prone to leaving behind. "I thought I said no tears, love," Sniper smiles smally, sighing as his hand curls deeper in Scout's hair, the slight sensation of the younger man's lips grazing along his neck enough to calm him. An affection Sniper never knew Scout contained for him rests in the young man's tired eyes. "We're gonna get through this, alright?! I'm not gonna let anythin' happen to ya; Jus' keep calm, I'll be here no matter what; from now on, this is ourproblem, 'lright?!"
The first smile Sniper'd seen the young man produce in days spreads across Scout's mouth, the Australian pulling the young man's frame so it rests against his chest. "What, were you expectin' me t'learn what was goin' on 'nd then go back along my merry way? I'm afraid not, love..." Jack's gentle whisper flutters in the younger man's ear, the Australian tugging on Scout's shoulder, Lawrence pressing himself closer against the man as a result.
"H-Herr Sniper—!" Heinrich gasps quietly as he stumbles unexpectedly upon the two men who sit huddled and curled, compacted in their hidden corner. Lawrence jumps, eyes rounded with sheepishness as they make contact with those of his fumbling doctor, the man's white jacket tattered and soaked in fresh blood, though the man himself does not seem injured.
"Z—zhere you are, Junge," Heinrich clears his throat, reddening as Sniper slowly retracts his hands from around Lawrence's body.
"I have been searching for you ze duration of ze whole battle, vhere in ze vorld have you been?!"
"Uh, here!" Scout rolls his eyes, pulling the blue shirt so it covers his front once more.
"'Dammit' nozhing! Vhy vould you ever zhink it vas a good idea to—to—engage in such activities in zhe middle of war—?!"
"I didn't think shit, and I ain't got a clue what you mean by activities,"
"If you do not see ze discrepancy of you hiding avay in ze basement, having a cuddle session viz your—your—your Snipervhile ze rest of us are fighting for our lives, zen zere is an issue! And yet you do not even vonder if your own comrades are alive—!"
"Are any of you dead?!" Scout snaps, Heinrich shaking his head no. "Okay then, so what the fuck does it matter?!"
"And zen you furzer zrow us all avay by housing a RED wizin ze base—!"
"He ain't just some fuckin' RED, 'Rich, you watch how you talk about Jack," Lawrence growls, allowing his glare a few seconds' more time for Heinrich to comprehend the sincerity of his advice. The German shares a glance with Sniper, the Australian shrugging, lips pointed downward.
"Sorry if I have offended you in any vay, Herr Sniper," Heinrich croaks quietly, lifting his hands slowly to further emphasise his nebbish innocence.
"No—'s nothin'," Jack mumbles, the two watching Scout patiently, careful not to trod upon any triggers of his long established fragile temper. "'E's got a bit of a point, love," Sniper whispers, standing up and extending a hand to lift Scout to his feet.
"I shouldn'ta gotten so close to ya—not now,"
"What's wrong with now?! What does it matter if we're just gonna fuckin' die anyway!"
"Zat is enough, Lawrence! How dare you surrender so easily?! Do you zink you are somehow considered special, exempt from ze call of duty?! Ve are giving our lives to protect each ozer and zis base, and all you can do is enjoy kisses and cuddles and declare zese your final moments?! "
"'Cause you're doin' your job by standin' around and bitchin' at me—if it's such a goddamn massacre up there, maybe you should be healin' instead of wankin' at me!"
Scout slips back on his heels as if the traction of his soles simply decided to give way and coat the floor beneath him in crackless ice. Heinrich, who stands still with his hand outstretched and firm at his breast, seems to have no intention of apologizing for the backhanded slap he'd done unto Scout just seconds ago.
The Australian simply gapes as he turns his head quickly onto Scout so his dumbfounded shock does not go wasted without a recipient. Slowly, he holds his arms out with no real idea as to what is meant behind the gesture. Scout holds his reddening cheek, the palm of his hand cupped gingerly around the tingling flesh, maintaining a fierce glare, eyes fixed on the doctor who stands flushed with puce tinted anger.
"…I see you've taken t'my speech patterns," Sniper's attempt at humour goes over completely unreceived, the men for whom the lighthearted interjection was intended still preoccupied by a silent vigilance of the other.
"Oh, boy..." Sniper sighs, letting his arms drop to his side, wincing as another rocket collides with the exterior above, and dust drools in sandy sheets from the walls and shelves as a result, pooling in the creases of their shoes and onto their tense shoulders.
"What does it fuckin' matter to me?! I'm dead—I'm fuckin' dead..."
"Now Lawrence, we've been over this, love; you're not gonna die, we're gonna come outta this t'gether, 'nd I'll be damned if the dame thinks She's gonna get 'er hands on you again, d'you hear me?!"
"Vat do you mean outta zis?! Scout should be battling, fighting alongside his comrades, as should you!"
"Dunno if you've been briefed, Doc, but Lawrence tried murderin' me about forty five minutes ago, right b'fore Tavish decided t'lob one o'them pipes at those gas rigs near your lot! I imagine he heard the shot 'nd decided t'take action b'fore your lot did,"
"Vat has gotten into you?! You vould murder your own Jack?!"
"Hey, you don' know shit about what happened, alright?!"
"'Ey now, Larry, calm down—"
"Don't you fuckin' tell me to calm down!"
"'Nd obviously Lawrence missed, he tried snipin' me—'nd then 'e musta ran down here'nd hightailed in this pantry,"
"Alright, I pussied out, you done yet?!"
"He's had an extremely rough few weeks, Doc, go easy on'im. He got overwhelmed 'nd just hid away from everythin'—can't say I blame 'im,"
"Just shut the fuck up about it—!"
"Judgin' by the look on your Doc's face 'e may or may not want an explanation, don't think'e wants us t'shut up about it 't'all, really,"
"N-not now, Herr Sniper—I must be back to my teammates, zey need me up zere!"
"'Course, but I gotta take Lawrence outta here, mate—'s a lot t'explain now like y'said, but he needs t'be with me, y'have to understand; this isn't cowardice, it's a question of his life!"
"Vere vill you be taking him?!"
"T'the van, 's the only place we've got for now," Sniper sighs, Scout settling with chewing on his bottom lip, like a toddler forced to leave the reasoning to two adults.
"Trust me Doc, I'm the last person ready t'hurt him," Sniper snaps, for Heinrich's eyes widened with a borderline insulting hint of silent caution on Jack's behalf.
"D'you think you could come find us there after this whole thing's sorted out?!"
"I—I do not know Herr Sniper!" Heinrich growls impatiently, inching hesitantly toward the shoddily upheld door as a scream for his name sounds from overhead.
"Should ze Good Lord permit me to survive zis—"
"'Lright, we'll be there, Doc, we'll fill ya in, I promise—but Lawrence's life is on the line right now, I gotta get'im outta here, with me,"
"Zen go, go!" Heinrich roars, pushing them out of the pantry. "Take ze severs, and get out!"
-
A small hiccup sounds from the Australian's mattress, Lawrence, who sits twisted in the man's sheets, following the short gasp with a drawn out sign in hopes to regulate his unsteady breathing. His eyes hardly dare to blink, his eyes growing ever drier, though plastered still on the back of Jack, who peeks through the carnation pink curtains the cover the small window. "Nothin' so far."
"...No one's comin' then?" Scout asks quietly, thankful when Jack settles next to him, shaking his head.
"Listen t'me—you're not t'leave this van, d'you understand me?" Sniper hisses at the young man who sits on his mattress. Scout nods slowly, eyes watchful of Sniper and his humourless glare. "She's gonna know by now y'didn't do me in—'nd I know for a fact she ain't gonna let it slide—'s best if you jus' stay by my side, 'nd lay low, alright love?"
Scout nods again, almost as if afraid any spoken word would alert the entirety of existence of his presence.
"Aw, now—'s no need t'look so shaken, I've got ya, alright?"
"N-no offense, Jack, but that don't mean shit," Scout heaves apologetically, the words obviously unsettling to him as they concretely speak the reality of the whole ordeal.
"That woman's fuckin' nuts, Jack—Tavish didn't throw that grenade, it was her fuckin' grunts—she knew I wasn't gonna fuckin' do it, so she—she sent 'em out there to come and pick me up'nd take me to'er, right?! They attacked the base 'nd made it look like you all did it so we'd start blowin' each other up—that way they could slip in and take me out 'nd back to her without no one noticin' the Administrator's vehicles on the area,"
"What?!"
"Yeah, that shit was nothin' but a distraction,"
"But—don't take this the wrong way, love, but it seems awfully reckless t'start a whole battle 'nd risk casualties jus' to escort one person back to the hag,"
"'S not like her to stir up a scene, though, didn't you notice the way I just disappeared those two days? Actually, if she did it right, you probably didn't at first—she sweeps you up, Jack, 'n fast, like you never even existed to begin with. The deal was I kill you, or she kills me—you're still standin' here, so you know what that means for me. She didn't wanna start no scenes by havin' her lackeys drag me out for my execution—nah, that ain't quite her style. The reason we're all so fuckin' afraid of that bitch is because we don't know shit about what it means for us if we gotta see her, so all we can hope is that we never do, right?! She don't want word gettin' out about how she's handlin' me, 'cause then we'll have an idea about how she operates. So the best way to avoid a scene is by causin' one, one that looks nice 'nd chaotic; an easy one to distract everyone with while she kills me 'nd blames my death on your team, callin' it a casualty,"
"Jesus, love," Jack runs a stressed hand through once combed hair that only grows more tangled and cluttered with the debris of warfare the longer the day goes on.
"I dunno what to do, Jack,"
"'S a tough call, mongrel—but me, you, Heinrich'nd Luc'll sort it out—"
"The fuck is that supposed t'mean?!"
"What else is it s'pposed t'mean?! They're on their way here t'talk this over so we can make a plan on what t'do—"
"You said this was gonna be our problem, Jack, you never fuckin' said shit about bringin' him into this—!"
"Who, Luc?!"
"I ain't sayin' a word to that bastard—!"
"Somethin' tells me now might be the time t'put aside your fuckin' daddy issues, Scout—that man is your stepfather'nd he loves ya, 'nd there's no way he's jus' gonna stand by 'nd watch all this happen!"
"Now ain't exactly the time to bring this shit up, Jack—"
"D'you want t'die?! We're comin' t'gether for you, love! The three of us're breachin' contracts'nd regulations, meetin' here t'discuss how we're gonna keep you alive! We're puttin' our lives on the line—'nd all you can say is 'don't bring him along 'cause he made fun of my beaver teeth growin' up?!'?! Grow the fuck up, Lawrence,"
"I didn't fuckin' ask for your help, Jack! You're the one volunteerin' 'em in this shit! You're makin' it sound like I asked to get involved in all this—!"
"It doesn't matter whether you asked or not, the point is you are, 'nd we each care about ya to the point where we're willin' t'recognise that you aren't gonna be breathin' much longer if we don't get involved!"
"So what?! Let me fuckin' die, it ain't like I got shit to even live for!"
"Y'serious?" Sniper scoffs, shaking his head incredulously.
"You're really gonna stand here, in my van, lookin' at the very man who loves you more than anythin' else in this goddamned world in the eye, 'nd tell him y'ain't got shit worth gettin' up for in the mornin'?!"
Scout simply glares, completely frozen save the slight twitch of his mouth, which he struggles to hold in a thin, defiant and emotionless line.
"So I mean nothin' to ya, then?!" Sniper continues, and Scout finds it almost unnerving the way the typically collected Australian stands before him, nostrils flared, brow wrinkled in fury and eyes narrowed dangerously on his person, fists balled, his glare fundamentally murderous.
"HUH—?!"
Scout jumps not at the man's roar, but instead at the shattering smack of his glass ashtray against the wall beside him, Sniper having chucked it indiscriminately.
"It ain't my fuckin' fault you're so in love with me, I never forced you to obsess over me—you're fuckin' desperate, dude, just 'cause maybe I'm all you have, that don't mean I'm as fuckin' fixated as you—!"
Scout is shocked that Sniper doesn't aim yet another particularly painful uppercut reminiscent of the one from a week ago in his direction, though his still bandaged nose leaves little for Sniper's fist to bloody this time around. Though as he breathes harshly through his teeth, awaiting Sniper's response whether it be in the form of physical release or not, he cannot say he feels any sympathy for the man who stands, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, trying desperately to subdue any desire to hit him Scout is sure he is doing a job to repress in this very moment.
"It's fuckin' sad, Jack—chasin' after dudes twelve years younger than you 'cause you've fucked up every chance for a normal relationship with other fags your own age—so what, no one wants ya Down Under so you obsess over me 'nd then it becomes my fault when you're riskin' your life 'cause you're so damn desperate?!"
Scout has no idea what it is that keeps him talking—maybe it was an anger spawning from a source he can't even rememberhad set him off so, maybe it was his own pride formulating the harshest words he can muster from within him, words he knows scrape and scathe at the man before him as if they were spoken by the Devil himself, iron hot and burning with as much contempt and disgust with which Scout can accent them.
"I wish you'd never fallen in love with me—then this shit never woulda fuckin' happened! If you'd just stayed the fuck away from me I wouldn't be dead because of your ass—!"
It becomes physically impossible for the young man to speak any further, for he finds that his cheeks and jaws are seized and braced under the strong hand of the calmly furious man. Scout can taste the salty dirt and dried sweat upon his fingers as in one swift motion Sniper collides his skull with the steel wall of the camper, a warm wave of heavy dampness trickling from the wound seconds after the impact.
Scout calls out the man's name pleadingly, yelping as his head collides against the wall again, and in a blackened flash of dizzy uprootal Scout slouches, leaning against the wall for support. His stomach lurches as the hand Sniper'd wrung behind the back of the Bostonian's head is covered in his own blood, the man actually sobbing, much to Scout's own surprise—three whole years, and never once in their relationship had he seen the man actually cry.
It's eerie, quiet, easily missable at that; the only reason Scout can decipher the short, inaudible gasps for what they are is because he knows him all so well. Scout's eyes shut instinctively as the Australian wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, shaking it with a sharp sprawling of his fingers to the side, miniscule drops of the young man's own blood colliding against the cheek from whom they originated.
The man ignores Scout, content instead with stalking his way with his long legs toward the kitchenette without another word. Lawrence, who is completely unsure as to what it is he should do now, rubs the back of his head softly, his lips twisting as his is once again reminded how the palm of his hand is coated in red. With a sharp turn around, he further observes his own blood stains the wall, hardening over as over time the air cracks its influence about the iron infused wetness, the blood chipping away in a sickly reminder of where his own mouth had a tendency to lead him.
He was certainly growing light headed, and Sniper's comforter was staining the longer Scout lied against it for the sake of its soft refuge. His mother had always warned him against falling asleep after head trauma, but, for the first time in his adult life, Scout discards the words of his mother in favour of his own intuition. The comfort of shut eyes grows more and more inviting the longer he holds them so, and the memory of his mother's doting words put him to sleep in their very reciprocal.
-
"You're not takin' him from me—!"
"Please, Herr Sniper, put ze shotgun down!"
Heinrich almost sounds tired, as if the request that the Australian place a firearm aimed at his body away is a commonly uttered one for the German man (it was). As Scout rolls his way out of the bed and takes a peek around the corner, he's met with the rather alarming sight of the two men standing in a camper whose ceiling is barely high enough to house them standing up at full height.
'Thank God the Doc made it outta there alive.'
Instantly his brain rushes to form gruesome images in the form of potential fatalities on BLU's end. If these images were to have some basis in reality however Heinrich would either be tending to the dead or Scout would have heard of the death of a comrade by now; it would appear, based on Heinrich's coat being folded neatly (certainly the German's doing) into a dapper square upon the coffee table in the sitting room, that the man has been in the camper long enough to have told Scout of any bad news.
"I'll shoot your Goddamn brains out if you put a finger on 'im—"
"Ze junge is lying in a puddle of his own blood on your bed, Herr Sniper, and zere is more blood to be seen upon your wall! It is I who should be shooting you—!"
"D'you think I'm fuckin' around, Doc?! 'E's not leavin' this camper!"
"Wiz your temper he is at greater risk staying wiz you zan he is in his base amongst his comrades! Ones who also care about his vellbeing zat aren't alvays injuring him, funnily enough!"
"You're gonna have t'kill me if ya want 'im, Doc, otherwise I'll kill you if you make even a tiny move back t'that bed, dinky di—"
"Or vhy not vake Lawrence and have him decide vhere he should go for himself? He is a grown man capable of making his own decisions," Heinrich suggests calmly, Scout seeing this as a cue to rise, though his head pounds as he rests pressure on his feet. The two men turn to face him as he makes his way quietly into the sitting room, rubbing his head as each step causes it to well with a distinct pain that blinds patches of his vision the longer he strains to maintain it.
"Ach, Junge—easy, Jack," Medic warms, placing his hands in the air as Sniper brandishes the weapon in his direction as he goes to take his patient and comrade into a friendly hug. "Vat has happened to you?!" Heinrich asks breathlessly, Scout freezing instantly on the spot.
"I—I fell," he begins, swallowing harshly and nodding seconds later. "When we were runnin' back here—"
"Zere is no need to lie, Lawrence, zere is nozing to be afraid of—I do not zink ze Sniper is so crazy zat he would shoot you over the truth!"
'No, he's that fuckin' crazy,' Scout snaps internally, avoiding the Australian's eye. 'But shootin' me ain't exactly what would show for it.'
"Look, your vounds have not even been properly treated!" Heinrich gasps, snatching a small medikit from off the glass coffee table, leading them both to sit on the floor whilst Heinrich tends to the now dried cut. "I knew I vasn't overreacting ven I zought to bring one along,"
"Lawrence," Sniper croaks, Scout's head instantly turning to face Sniper's at the start of his hoarse voice, though Heinrich instantly turns him to face the German once more, the tips of his fingers harsh against his chin.
"Face me, I am not finished," Heinrich mutters darkly, though Lawrence can tell by his disgruntled expression that the status of his treatment may have nothing to do with his distaste at Scout giving Sniper attention in reality.
"Quite a fall you took, Lawrence, I vould zink a runner of your aptitude vould have abandoned tricky pairs of left feet longago," he spits.
"Forget about it Doc, I already know what you're tryin' to say, but I ain't goin' with ya,"
"Lawrence, zis man is abusing you!"
"He—he's not—look, just forget about it, alright?! I said some shit—I—I was askin' for it,"
"Clearly you are all fucking insane, am I ze only one who cares vezer zis boy lives or dies?!"
"I don't understand why you think Lawrence is gonna die with me, Doc—"
"You are smashing his head into valls ven he says zings you do not like!"
"Nah, Doc, really—I said some horrible shit, shit that—that I didn't mean—I didn't mean it, Jack!"
"Look, you have scared ze boy so severely he is terrified zat you are still angry viz him!"
"I ain't leavin' him, Doc, now just fuckin' drop it!" Scout roars, both men taken aback at Scout's frustrated, raised voice. "You said you were gonna let me choose, and I choose Jack! I know you care, Doc, I know you're lookin' out for me! But—" Scout tapers off, Heinrich sighing after a few seconds of their locked gazes sink in. "Fine—I—I vill not attempt anyzing…" he rolls his eyes, teeth clenched angrily. "Wahnsinnig, seid ihr; einfach wahnsinnig…"
"Speak English, Doc,"
"YOU'RE BOTH NUTS! SIMPLY CRAZY! I CANNOT TAKE IT ANYMORE, ZE BACK AND FORZ, ZE ARGUING, ZE HITTING AND ZE SCREAMING AND ZE FIGHTING! I do not know vat vas said—knowing Lawrence it vas presumably somezing to do viz his stepfazer—"
"Bingo,"
"But zat you two find it at all appropriate to squabble and hit each ozer at a time like zis—it's puzzling, just puzzling…"
"It was my fault, Doc," Scout scratches behind his neck, a soft "ow," slipping through his lips, the general area still very tender. Scout didn't know what it was that triggered the instant regret within him. Perhaps it was simple; that even after the words he'd said, Sniper still stood ready to defend his right to keep the young man by his side. Maybe it was how much he knew Sniper loved him, and how much he loved him in return. 'Who fuckin' knows—maybe the Doc is right and we are just fuckin' crazy…'
"Doc, can I?" Scout asks quietly, but he doesn't wait for the man's response before standing up, taking Jack into a strong hug the two silently hold for a few awkward seconds on the doctor's end. "I'm sorry, Jack, I didn't mean none of it..."
It was honestly a perplexing case for the aging German; two men who fight to the point of physical abuse standing in each other's arms two hours after the fact. "Wahnsinnig…" he sighs again, looking up at the low rumble of Sniper's whisper in Scout's ear, the speech itself unintelligible to all but the two, though Scout nods after each sentence. "Vat in ze vorld did you say to him, Scout?"
"Forget about it, shit I don't mean,"
"Oi, now," Sniper growls as a knock sounds on the camper door, the man giving Scout a slight push back toward the sleeping room, taking his shotgun in hand.
"Get 'im back there, Doc, jus' in case it's someone we don't want stoppin' by..."
"You two are completely insane—!" Heinrich hisses quickly as he corrals Scout toward the sleeping room, the young man obviously hesitant to leave Sniper by his lonesome to approach the visitor. They sit completely quiet and still behind the bedroom door, listening on the other side for the sound of conversation. "You just gonna keep sayin' that?!" Scout snaps back, pressed as close to the metal as possible. "'S probably Luc comin'," Scout grumbles indignantly, groaning as the camper door shuts and the muffled speech of the Frenchman floats its way about the camper.
"Lawrence really," Heinrich scolds, glaring at the young man over his glasses. Scout sighs, pulling the door back and rolling his eyes, entering the sitting room with his arms folded and eyes cast to the side. "Lawrence!" Luc exclaims, Scout taking a seat next to Sniper on the maroon shag, the two guests however content with standing.
"Yeah, hey," he grunts in response.
"Sorry I can't offer either of ya a right seat, mate,"
"No matter, I'm not 'ere for zhe sake of 'ospitality; What is going on, Lawrence?! You 'ave been disappearing, worrying Jack and zhe Doctor as well as myself, attempts on zhe lives of Jack and myself 'ave been made by zhis Dmitri outside of battle!" Luc wastes no time in seeking answers to his assuredly pressing questions, though Heinrich's wide eyed gasp is quick to interject as Lawrence opens his mouth.
"Vat?! Our Spy has been trying to kill you all again?!"
"Look, I—I swear I didn't mean for none of this to happen!" Scout please, eyes darting back between them all.
"No one's sayin' that, love, they just wanna know what this is! The three of us've been workin' t'get to the bottom of everythin' ever since you disappeared the first time! "Nd we can't protect you unless we know what we're protectin' youfrom!"
"Who the fuck said I needed protectin'?!"
"See why I hit'im, Doc?!"
"Jack, Lawrence, please," Luc sighs, lighting a much needed cigarette, ignoring Heinrich's groan and mumble about the habit being "unsanitary".
"'Ave I not told you already zat you must keep your temper wizh 'im?! Zhe boy never watches 'is mouzh—,
"This boy is sittin' right here, you fuckin' prick, so if you've got somethin' t'say—"
"I do, Lawrence; as a matter of fact I do. Regardless of what or 'ow you may feel, I am 'ere, in zhis camper, for you. Zhis mess you've landed yourself in wizh Dmitri and Jack is none of my business, and none of my concern, but I am 'ere because Ilove you, Lawrence," Luc spits at the quiet young man, who stares at the maroon shag, Sniper's hand running along Lawrence's shoulder sympathetically. "Before you say you did not ask for me to be 'ere—"
"I didn't!"
"But know zhat I do not need your permission, Lawrence. I am willing to risk everyzhing for your safety, because I love you as my son. You may ask where is your fazher, Lawrence? Why is it zhat I am 'ere, despite everyzhing we 'ave been zhrough, and 'e is not?!"
"Now's not the time, mate," Sniper tightens his grip around Lawrence, whose anger he can physically feel as it staggers at the mention of his biological father.
"Au contraire, Jack, now is zhe only time; if all goes according to plan zhen I, along with all of you, 'ave zhe potential to diewizhin the next forty eight 'our period. Be zhis zhe case, I'd like to get a few zhings off my chest," Luc explains coolly, his eyes not letting up from those of his stepson all the while.
"Is this all you came for then, Luc? To get shit off your chest?!" Lawrence spits.
"You blame me for your misery and for ruining your child'ood and driving zhe man away, but I saved you from 'is cruelty, Lawrence—'e would not be 'ere for you in zhis moment like myself—"
"Don't you DARE talk about my father that way!"
"Where is 'e zhen, Lawrence?! You 'ave been calling for 'im for years, and yet 'e 'as not come, non?!"
"Luc, seriously mate, can we please pick another time for this?!"
"You are not zhe only one who loves 'im, Jack," Luc hisses, Heinrich clearing his throat and picking at his trousers.
"Zhis man is literally leading you to your deazh—"
"Don't you fuckin' round on Jack either, Luc! You all keep sayin' that, like Jack wants me dead!"
"Jack 'imself 'as been warning you of zhis for two years, 'e 'as warned you zhat loving 'im would only lead to you facing zhe potential of losing your life,"
"So what, Luc, I'm ok with dyin'!"
"And yet would you claim zhat Jack loves you?!"
"You implyin' I don't love Lawrence, mate?! 'Cause I reckon you're gonna have both our fists shuttin' your trap if you don't close it yourself—"
"Jack is your assassin, Lawrence, be it zhrough RED, or your friendship leading you to deazh zhrough zhe Administrator—and yet is 'e not zhe one who loves you more zhan anyone possibly could?! 'E just cracked your damn 'ead open, for God's Sake!"
"Exactly vat I am saying!" Heinrich pops up hesitantly.
"And yet you believe 'im when 'e says 'e loves you! Why do you not believe me?!"
Lawrence blanches.
"Per'aps it is a recurring zheme in your life, Lawrence, zhat zhe ones who 'urt you most are zhe ones zhat love you just as much,"
"So what," Scout snaps. "So what—"
"I know you may not want to 'ear it, Lawrence, but your fazher abused your mozher and your two eldest brozhers on a daily basis—"
"So what—"
"Your mozher confided in me at a time in 'er life when zhe one meant to be 'er ozher 'alf was zhe very one tearing zhe whole of 'er down—"
"SO WHAT LUC?!" Scout shouts, rising swiftly to his feet and challenging his stepfather aggressively. "WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH WHAT YOU STILL DID TO MY FAMILY?!"
"If zhe man 'ad stayed in your life 'e too would 'ave 'urt you zhe same way,"
"But what difference does it fuckin' make, Luc, you hit me too! You fuckin' hit me too!"
"And for zhat I am sorry, Lawrence, I truly am—I regret it everyday,"
Lawrence swallows heavily.
"And 'as your fazher apologised for leaving you?! For 'urting your mozher and Alex and Christopher?! Did your fazher ever say zhat 'e loved you when 'e even was around?!"
"So what, you think you're better than him?!"
"I want to make zhings right wizh you, because you're my son! If I should die for you zhen I want you to 'ave 'eard me tell you whezher you believe zhe intent of my words to be true or not! Your fazher went to 'is grave owing you an apology, Lawrence,"
"What do you mean his grave...?" Scout's voice drops, his eyes wide as they focus on the Frenchman's face, unblinking.
"Zhe man's been dead for five years, Lawrence, 'e drowned 'imself in zhe Boston 'arbour,"
Scout says nothing, but instead rests his head in his hands, silent for a solid two minutes, after which Luc clears his throat, meaning to speaking further. "I'm sorry, I really am—"
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"
"As if you ever would 'ave given me long enough to even tell you!"
"NO FUNERAL?! MY DAD JUST—JUST DIES, AND NO ONE THINKS TO—"
"Your mozher and I didn't know what to do, Lawrence, we didn't know 'ow or when to tell you, we didn't want to 'urt you! Lawrence, please, I can understand if you never forgive me, or if you never see me as a fazher, but all I can ask is zhat you accept my 'elp. I want to see you and Jack make it out of everyzhing alive and well enough to look past all zhis wizh each ozher if no one else. So please, quit acting up and accept my involvement for what it is. Losing tempers and 'olding grudges will only distact you from zhe love you two 'ave for each ozher, zhe only zhing zhat gets you zhrough zhis! Just tell me please what is going on!"
"You think it's just that easy?! That you can just—show up now, after fifteen years of hurtin' me and expect me to forget it all?"
"Consider my involvement to 'elp you and Jack escape as a start, Lawrence..."
"C'mon, Larry, we've'nt got much time t'fill them in," Jack adds quietly.
"We can continue zhis conversation later, when zhe order on your head is no longer an issue," Luc presses calmly.
"...Remember in March how we had that leave?" Scout croaks, eyes on the floor.
"...Well me'nd Jack got back to the base kinda—kinda early—" Scout stutters, neither him nor Luc wanting to mention Christopher and his outburst outright.
"'Nd we thought we were the only ones around, right?! And I was with Heinrich, tellin' him about some stuff that happened with me and Jack,"
"Oh dear," Luc sighs.
"Well Dmitri musta been slitherin' around listenin'—now keep in mind I always thought the dude was a bit of a creep—you fuckin' Spies are some weird ass fuckers—but he tried to say he'd tell the Administrator I was with Jack if I didn't pay him to hush it up,"
"Merde,"
"So I paid, right? Wasn't no problem until about three weeks ago when I couldn't pay no more, we ain't had hardly any missions in July, 'nd so dude decided he was gonna pretend to be Jack 'nd photograph—y'know—"
"Spare me please—compromising photos—" Luc closes his eyes and holds up his hand.
"'Nd he said if I didn't come up with five hundred bucks by the end of the week, he'd show 'em to the Administrator! Well, I—I couldn't—"
"Why didn't you ask one of us for zhe cash?!"
"Look, Jack already chewed me out about it, alright?!"
"'Nd rightly so," Jack adds.
"I don't wanna fuckin' hear it—so he took 'em down to 'er and so I got picked up, 'nd I met the bitch—meetin' took two damn days, 'nd she was talkin' 'bout how apparently I'm her best mercenary 'nd that killin' or lettin' me or go would be a waste—so she tells me to kill Jack to prove my loyalty—said if I couldn't do it, she'd kill me 'cause she can't have disloyal clients runnin' around—so I—I couldn't do it, 'nd I know she knows I didn't so I hid, 'cause I knew she'd be after me!"
Heinrich simply rests his face in his hands; Luc, who shakes his own head solemnly, exhales before a tired "So let me get zhis straight," escapes his lips alongside a barrage of heavy smoke. "Zhe Administrator wants you dead because of your insubordinate relationship wizh Jack, your enemy?"
"Kinda—Dmitri's after me 'cause he wants his money, and the Administrator wants me 'cause I didn't kill Jack, but I mean, yeah, she's pissed 'cause we're together,"
"Funny, I remember Jack saying 'er finding out would prove to incite conflict,;"
"You don't sound all that damn worried that I'm gonna fuckin' die!"
"It is because I know you are in good 'ands—Jack, 'Einrich, nor myself shall let you die,"
"Thanks Luc..." he whispers, though he picks at the carpet as he, for once in his life, shows gratitude on the Frenchman's behalf. "All of ya..."
"So now vat?" Heinrich asks quietly, looking at the others.
"Well, Scout told me that battle was started by the Administrator so her men could slip in 'nd take Scout without anyone noticin'. Seems to me she wants 'im back, but like Hell she's gettin' 'er hands on 'im! I figured we'd just hide out here—"
"Are you kidding, Jack? 'Ere is probably zhe first place she would look if trying to locate 'er person of interest! You two are in love and you are very protective of 'im, of course she would zhink to check your damn van, and frankly you are lucky 'er men 'ave not already stopped by,"
Jack reddens, mumbling and scratching at his arm. "Bozh of you need to get out of 'ere, Jack—your lives are in danger, and I know for a fact zhat she will also want you to speak for yourself while she 'as Scout in her clutches,"
"He's right, it is not safe here—anyvere she could associate you two,"
"So then, what, we just…" Scout shrugs, stumbling on the words.
"…Run?"
"As far away as possible, and do not take zhe camper wizh you—take nozhing wizh you, just get out and go!"
"W-when?!"
"Now, preferably, zhe black cars of zhe Administrator are still parked outside of BLU—zhankfully zhe camper already rests on zhe edge of zhe 'Fort, leaving zhe perimeters should not be difficult,"
"Oh God..." Scout shakes his head, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.
"I vill do my best to buy you all time, saying I found you dead," Heinrich nods, Scout jumping at Luc's shout of "Yes!"
"We can claim you bozh to 'ave been found dead,"
"Yeah, but she ain't gonna buy it forever,"
"Long enough to get you two avay from her," Heinrich nods.
"And if she hurts you guys for spreadin' lies 'nd conspirin' to help us?!"
"Hm—I am a Spy, I am quite good at making a getaway should it get to zhat point, Lawrence—zhe Doc I would assume would take Mikhail and zhe two would run as well?"
"Hm, I imagine so,"
"Well ain't that right touchin', didn't know you two cared so much! Really tho', always said a nice mutiny 'gainst the old bat wouldn't be such a bad thing, maybe we should all run," Jack scoffs, Luc crushing the butt of his cigarette and raising an eyebrow. "I'd razher you two get a 'eadstart."