"Hey, yo, wombat—"
The voice Sniper could identify as only being Scout's seems, even though light if not marginally hesitant, as if his statement were a warning of his impending chatter, an inquiry of whether or not Sniper wanted to hear it to begin with.
"That was some good shootin' today."
Sniper scoffs, the right side of his thin mouth caught in a haughty smirk as if the corner of his lip were being tugged by an imaginary fishing line; is this what Scout had snuck out of his base and into Sniper's own to tell him?! That he'd done a good job of dominating him?! Like he need to be told. It was a waste of Scout's time to sneak into the nest to tell him, and a waste of Sniper's to hear it.
"Y'reckon? Certainly ain't like ya t'recognise mastery when y'see it,"
"I didn't say you were a fuckin' master, I just said you weren't too bad out there..."
"'Nd since when're you the authority o'expert marksmanship? You've only had the four missions, 'nd only three of 'em didn't require me savin' your arse!"
"That wasn't savin' me, that was tuggin' on my shirt and pullin' me back! You're givin' yourself too much credit,"
"Last time I checked it was you who started dishin' me compliments, I'm not givin' myself any credit you didn't already give me; I'm jus' supportin' ya,"
"Whatever,"
"So what is it y'want, Scout?"
"I dunno, I guess-I guess I just kinda thought I should tell ya good job on the domination,"
"You?! Bein' a good sport? 'S this all about all o'sudden?!" Sniper chuckles, sighing heavily, his back still turned to the young man. "Or wait, I sense a breakdown in three…two…one—"
"Nice job on the domination you didn't fuckin' deserve"
"There we are, was wonderin' why you snuck 'cross what may as well be a minefield t'give me praise, didn't seem anythin' like you,"
"You don't even know me!"
"There's a lot I've learned in the last three weeks, 'specially 'cause you always like poppin' up wherever I am for some strange reason—"
"The fuck does that even mean—?!"
"If I didn't know any better I'd say you've taken quite a fancy to me,"
"A what—"
"A fancy—seems t'me like you spend more time chattin' me up than you do in your own base,"
"What's that got t'do with fancies or dominations you didn't earn?!"
"Nice way t'avoid my point,"
"Plus it goes both ways, dude—"
"There ain't any BLUs whose ear you can talk off on your side o'the ravine—?!"
"You never kick me out or tell me to go away—"
"'Course I do, y'just talk over me so you don't hear me tell ya t'scram—"
"'Nd you never kill me when I find ya—"
"I ain't gonna get rid o'my rival so quickly, now! You're the first Scout in ages, 's nice for the target practice,"
"So that's it, huh? I'm just target practice?!" Scout's smile actually fades, the young man nodding in solemn disgust as he looks unto the completely unphased Sniper.
"Y'sound disheartened, Scout,"
"I didn't know you just objectified me…"
"So what, y'actually heart broken I don't really give two shits about ya?!"
"No, 'cause I don't give two shits about you neither!" Scout snaps quickly, grimacing at the Australian.
"Seriously, you're a fuckin' crazy, British—thing—"
"I thought we established that I ain't one o'them pommys already…"
"You're British as long as I'm target practice!"
"Listen—Scout—you're annoyin' me, mate. D'you mind, I dunno, leavin'?"
"Not until you take back that fuckin' domination!"
"That I earned—"
"I had my foot stuck in that dirt! It was a cheap shot and you know it!"
"Try duckin' next time!"
"I—I did—"
"The only reason why I didn't shoot ya in the head outright's 'cause I don't wanna take out my newsie rival in the first month!"
"I thought I said to quit callin' me a newsie," Scout snaps, his voice rising with frustration.
"You've barely been out here three weeks, now, I reckon I oughta milk the nickname for what it's worth before you reallyaren't one—you'll be celebratin' your first year anniversary b'fore you know it,"
"It ain't like I'm some newborn kitten—!"
"'Course not, kittens're cute…"
"You sayin' I ain't cute?!"
"I'm sayin' kittens're cute 'nd you are most certainly not a kitten,"
"I mean, you ever see me with my shirt off? 'Cause it's pretty awesome, pretty damn cute, even…"
"Spare me, kid, no one wants t'see your pale, scrawny chest…" Sniper waves a hand of dismissal, hoisting himself off the crate he sits. The wooden planks of the nest floor creak as he stands to formally look at the Bostonian who'd made himself comfortable on the floor some time ago.
"Fuck off, I ain't—I ain't—scrawny"
"I mean, you've gained a little bit o'sun, I can see your little tan line 'round your sleeves 'nd collar, but otherwise y'still look like a—"
"What Dingo, what do I look like?!" he snaps threateningly, scowling as Sniper chuckles lightly.
"A brat beggin' me t'take back the domination,"
"Seriously, I had my foot in the dirt!"
"What about when you whacked me with that stupid bloody baseball 'nd I was rubbin' my head for forty minutes?! Y'just walked right past me 'nd took the intel anyway!"
"Learn to duck,"
"Usin' my own words against me…"
"They ain't so cute, are they?"
"Look, mate, you can spout everythin' I say back t'me like the toddler ya are—"
"I ain't no toddler—!"
"But if I take that domination back you'll never learn the virtue of graciously acceptin' defeat,"
"You fuckin' kiddin' me?!"
"I mean it, mate, chivalry 'nd respect on the battlefield might be the very things t'keep you alive,"
"Now you're just bullshittin' me, ain't you the one callin' people wankers?!"
"I only call you a wanker!"
"And then you're gonna have the nerve to say I be chivalrous to you,"
"'S not my fault you're a wanker!"
"No one likes a spoiled sport…"
"I ain't bein' spoiled, I just don't think your ass is teachin' me no virtues; More like the virtue of bein' fuckin' cheated!"
"Bein' bested ain't gettin' cheated, now you be thankful I didn't shoot your head off like I shoulda three weeks ago when you were in my tree!"
"Yeah, 'cause shootin' the new guy when he's stuck is really a sign of your badass snipin' skills,"
"Oi, maybe if you hadn't been gapin' up at me y'woulda noticed the pile o'sludge!"
"Gapin'?"
"Yeah, gapin', y'caught me in my nest 'nd as soon as it hit ya I was shirtless y'couldn't even look away!"
"B-bullshit—"
"'S not bullshit 'cause it's true, for one; besides, 's no shame in admirin' a nice figure,"
"So you're seriously sayin' that the reason I got stuck in the mud was 'cause I saw you shirtless and couldn't look away?"
"Well when y'put it that way you make it sound like I'm makin' it up, when really I'm jus' goin' off facts, kid…"
"Whatever, you ain't even all that impressive, dude…" Scout snaps, folding his arms.
"So you're basically admittin' you were starin'—"
"I caught a glimpse, but that ain't the same as starin'—"
But he had been staring that day; Sniper's well toned, shirtless frame had caught his eye for more than a seconds' glance, the silent admiration having earned him a third shot from the man, and his first domination. He couldn't help himself; his enemy simply had an admirable figure about him, one that inspired Scout to perhaps lift some weights when the mission was over. It was more of an appreciation, in his mind. Not staring. It isn't until the van jumps, temporarily disheveled and unbalanced as its wheel catches in one of the many ditches running along the horribly paved road, that Scout realizes that he stares at the Australian now even some three years later.
Sniper of Scout's memory had sat with an impossibly straight back and a summer darkened figure, rifle scope aligned pointedly against his eye, his lips kissing the cool metal. His smile, ripe with assurance, slathered in madness, pushed his cheeks upward so they had lifted the physical frame of the man's glasses, digging into dimples…
The man before him now, however, cuffed and subdued in his transportation bound for that what the man had only preemptively inferred to be certain death, Scout finds harder to believe is the very one he'd once held to be an unbreakable man confident of his own superiority. Neither him nor Luc had spoken since the departure back to the Administrator's, well, Scout had no idea whether to rightly address it as headquarters, or base—
Almost as if unified and bound to the will of some unspoken pact, the three were much too caught up in their vacant stares at their bound wrists to actually speak their shared dread into any sort of verbal existence. Neither of them had to actually bother with words as it was anyway, it wasn't as if the danger of what was to come wasn't readily apparent to any of them.
Regardless, Scout wishes Sniper would say something; he finds that it all becomes so much harder to bear when the only sounds his body allows him to hear are those of the wagon's engine and tires against the baking asphalt outside, the only smell the gas and its sickly seep from the tailpipe in the form of noxious clouds. The only focus, Scout concludes with a heavy swallow, being the vehicle and its inevitability in the prolonged concourse—and arrival to the destination.
"Lawrence…" Sniper whispers, wary that the volume of his voice does not penetrate the metal of the van, alerting the driver of potential conspiracy.
Scout looks up, meeting the man's gaze. He appears tired and flushed, though a distinct fight still rests undoused in his eyes, his teeth grinding together as he formulates the remainder of his thoughts as if on a countdown. "We still have a chance t'get out, love; we can still run…"
It wasn't a statement, it was Sniper pleading. His voice is remarkably even, Scout notes, for half the reason Scout decides to keep silent is because he knows there would hardly be a voice left to his name, its tone drained from anticipation.
"Lawrence, you know I'll never leave you—that'll always be by your side, no matter what—" the van jumps once more, the men grunting as the shock of the tire hitting the ground uproots them briefly.
"But I can't jus' sit here 'nd ride with ya to your death, love," Sniper snaps, shaking his head seconds later as if the thought threatened to enrage him should he not quash it. "I just can't."
"So what do you want me to do, Jack?" Scout sighs, lifting his shackled wrists so Sniper can better see them, taking notice of Luc's attentive glance at the two from the corner of his eye.
"I don't know, love…" Sniper slumps back against the wall of the wagon, and as the man allows his eyes to close and his breath to escape his nostrils in heavy resignation, Scout instantly comes to regret the snappy nature of his response.
"I jus'—I thought bein' with me meant more to ya, that y'had more fight in ya—"
"What, you tryin' to say I just gave up?! That I just turned myself in 'cause I didn't feel like runnin' anymore?!" Scout growls, his insensitive shortness with the Australian flaring up again.
"Sure is what it looked like t'me back there…"
"Well maybe you need to get your eyes checked,"
"We were ready t'fight for you, love—Me, 'nd Luc, 'nd your Doc—we were ready to abandon everythin' 'nd never come back—Hell, we were even ready t'lose our lives if it meant keepin' you outta that woman's hands!"
"Jack…" Luc sighs, both with the intention to interject his distaste over the rising argument and volume of Sniper's voice.
"Jack nothin', mate, I'm askin' a completely valid question 'nd I want the answer!" he snaps back, rounding on the Bostonian once more, who meets Sniper's aggressive glare with one of his own. "'Nd frankly if you don't see a problem with why we're currently sittin' here in this Goddamned armoured car, then y'might need t'get your head checked—"
"Zhere is absolutely no need to insinuate zhat I am mentally deficient—"
"D'you not understand what you mean t'me, Lawrence?! How many times do I gotta tell ya I love you 'til y'finally get it, mongrel—"
"I dunno why you're talkin' to me like I'm fuckin' stupid—"
"Because you've got the lives o'three people who care about you more than damn near anythin' doin' everything they can t'keep you alive, 'nd you're just turnin' yourself into death without even so much as a glance back at us—!"
"Why do you keep sayin' that like I'm supposed to feel bad?! These were your choices, Jack! If it were up to me none o'ya would be involved!"
"Yeah, 'nd not gettin' us involved is the reason why it's as bad as it is, 'case you forgot,"
"Haven't you bitched at me enough?! Okay, I get it, I shoulda told you, you three're riskin' your lives, I've heard it all already!"
"Riskin'?! More like breakin' our necks t'keep you alive, 'nd you just throw your wrists out for her men t'cuff ya! Y'jus' let us get arrested, y'didn't even try t'put up a fight!"
"So what is it that's got your fuckin' slacks in a knot?! Maybe it's hittin' ya that swearin' to be by my side is more than you bargained for, huh?! Too much adventure for ya?! Well It's a little too late for you to back out now, Jack, there's no way you're gonna escape from this without shit hittin' some o'your fan, too—"
"This isn't about me, Lawrence! I don't fear me dyin', 's you I'm about ready t'have a heart attack over! I don't give two shits or whose fan they hit 'bout what any o'this means for me, 'nd you're bloody stupid if you think's what's got me bothered! Try the fact that y'just turned yourself in, 'nd that she'll kill you as soon as we arrive at her headquarters! As soon she gets the chance!"
"Jack, zhere is no guarantee zhat we will not 'ave a fighting chance to escape once we are released,"
"'Nd here I was, thinkin' that the whole bloody idea was t'not get ourselves turned in t'begin with! Silly fuckin' me!"
"Trust me, Jack, I 'ave made a living zhe past twenty years as a spy, and playing zhe part of complacency is sometimes zhe best course of action! Often times I choose to come quietly, only to make a daring escape once captured! 'Ad we resisted any furzher back zhere on zhe road it would have ended in a shootout, wizh all zhree of us killed!"
"'Specially with the way you're just shootin', callin' people cunts and throwin' shit—if I hadn't turned myself in she would've told those guys to execute you! 'Nd even if we ran and got away, you're so fuckin' hysterical, we wouldn't have lasted a day on the run together Jack and you know it!"
"What—?"
Scout is shocked to see the man raises his eyebrows sheepishly, the look on his face better expressing his silent thought of "What have I done…" than any of his words could.
"What d'you mean hysterical?!"
"I mean that we woulda ended up in a car chase in your death trap van, or that you woulda ended up labelin' us as terrorists or gettin' us shot and killed if we'd kept runnin'! I ain't sayin' that to attack you, but you can't act like it's all my fault!"
"I ain't tryin' t'blame you, love, I just—fuck, I just don't know, alright?!"
"It is understandable zhe zhreats facing Lawrence scare and infuriate you," Luc clears his throat, sharing a quick glance with his frowning stepson.
"I know you love me, Jack, that wasn't ever even a fuckin' question; but you were really tiptoein' on a line back there, and I wasn't just gonna keep lettin' Dmitri rile you up, and they were gonna shoot if you did one more thing, and—" Scout chokes. "Trust me, I know how it feels, not givin' two shits about yourself 'cause you're too busy losin' your mind over someone else. If they had touched you back there I woulda lost my shit, Jack. I know what you're doin' for me, and fuck if I'm gonna let anything happen to you because of it," Scout explains softly glaring passive aggressively into Sniper's eyes. Catching his balance carefully, Scout inches his way over to the other side of the van so that he may sit next to Sniper. The young man rests his head against the Australian's shoulder, facial muscles tense with silent worry.
"It ain't over 'til it's over—she's gonna wanna get to the bottom o'all this before she just does me in—if she even gets the chance to,"
"You're real dense if y'think that bitch is gonna get 'er hands on ya,"
"I 'ope I am as dense as you imply…" Luc sighs from the other part of the wagon.
"I mean it, Luc—I'll torch the place if she even nears him—"
"Yeah, see, Jack, that's the kinda shit I can't have—"
"So I'm just s'pposed t'just—let 'er waltz off with my Lawrence, no big bloody deal!"
"Non, Jack, we are to keep calm and approach zhis in a manner zhat will keep us alive; zhat includes keeping 'im from 'er aswell as not getting ourselves executed for going ballistic in zhe process!"
"Seriously, Jack, if you're pissed 'cause you think I just turned myself in, then you don't have no fuckin' idea how it felt for me to watch you hammer the nails into your own coffin…"
"What d'you mean?!"
"'E's saying zhat 'e turned 'imself in so zhat zhe Administrator's men would not shoot you,"
"WHAT—?!"
"I mean—more or less…"
"Lawrence, maybe I was tryin' t'cause a scene while you run or somethin'—!"
"Bullshit, like I'd ever run without you!" Scout snaps, insulted Sniper would even suggest such a thing.
"As if Jack would ever let you go…"
"Admit it, you were losin' your mind back there!"
"Yeah—well…"
"So was I," Scout sighs, and despite all that awaits him he musters a small, halfhearted smile, leaning affectionately against the Australian. "You drive me up a fuckin' wall, Snipes…"
The three are silent for an undisclosed amount of time, Sniper much too focused on the young man who lies against him entirely to bring his eyes away from him and onto the fully functioning watch on his wrist.
"So it's 'cause of me y'turned yourself in?"
"Don't think of it that way,"
"Well I ain't leavin' ya, no matter what happens; I don't care if she throws ya in a fiery pit, I'm jumpin' in after ya…"
"It ain't gotta resort to that, Jack, we're gonna get through this without pits'n shit, alright...?"
"Right, but there's one thing I'ma need the two o'ya t'get straight—no matter what happens, I ain't leavin' Lawrence's side, y'hear me? Both o'ya—I don't care if the Administrator has a gun pointed at my head sayin'—"
"I don't give a fuck what she's tellin' you to do, if she's got a gun to your head you better do what she says," Scout grunts.
"You two are like a spiral wizh zhis, "I can sacrifice myself better zhan you can", just stay calm and I promise zhings will be alright—we are 'er most loyal and efficient mercenaries, I assure you she will not be so quick to cast us aside—zhat we will leave wizhout punishment, I 'ighly doubt, but killing us, despite your sentence, Lawrence, I am quite certain she will want to avoid at all costs."
-
"Look at them, Miss Pauling! We cart them to their own deaths and they still insist on lying together in such close proximity! How does it feel to be a glaring third wheel, Lucien?"
The instant Sniper opens his mouth to spit undoubtedly scathing words at the Italian, Scout deters the man from actually speaking with a single glare up at him. Instead the Australian presses his lips together firmly, eyes narrowed with an aggression so fierce there was no doubt Dmitri would have been ripped to shreds were Jack's wrists not linked together.
"They aren't even trying to hide it anymore! Do come out, boys, there is no reason to be scared!" Dmitri sings, beaming at the two who lie against the other, nestled into a comfortable corner.
"Miss Pauling, Luc, Lawrence, and his Bushman refuse to come out despite direct orders! This is your last warning for you three to come out of there before I will have these men resort to force!"
"Mr. Marino I appreciate your efforts muchly, however I can handle this myself. It would be a great help if you were to simply wait for myself and the prisoners inside after informing Miss Ingram of our return," the bespectacled woman speaks in kind, soft words, as if afraid anything of a darker tone the Italian would be unable to process. "Mr. Fitzpatrick I am going to need you to step out of the vehicle—"
"If he's goin' I'm goin', lady—"
"Understandable, however refusal to comply with my request—"
"I'll comply 's long as when we exit this vehicle I'm by Lawrence's side! It doesn't get simpler than that," Sniper snaps, Miss Pauling raising her arms innocently.
"This is fine by me, Miss Ingram wanted to see you three together as it was,"
"'T'Hell with what Miss Ingram wants!"
"Jack…" Luc growls remindingly, the Australian tailing Scout as the young man emerges slowly from the cargo bay. "Remember your temper,"
Sniper growls, casting a glance at the large building that awaits them, nestled in between plateaus and rigid badlands.
"DON'T YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HIM—!" Sniper roars as Miss Pauling grips onto the Bostonian, twisting him and running her dainty hands along his body.
"Mr. Mundy please, I am only checking him for concealed weapons," the woman sighs, not at all insensitive to Jack's protective presence bearing over her as she does so. "I do not seek to hurt any of you, Mr. Mundy, and as you are hand cuffed, there would not be much for you to do if this were not the case—"
"Y'think I wouldn't find a way t'tear your head off, dollface?!"
"Jack…"
"Sorry, love,"
"Mr. Mundy if you do not calm down I am afraid I will have to separate the two of you,"
"Jack, just calm down…" Scout whispers at the man next to him, Luc incredulously silent himself.
"'Nd what d'you think that's for?!" Sniper snaps as the woman produces black bandanas from a small purse, though she takes her time in responding.
"It is simply to conceal the whereabouts of the Administrator's headquarters." Miss Pauling explains casually, wrapping a black cloth around Scout's eyes, the action clearly enraging Sniper, the man however remaining calm. "A mere safety precaution,"
"Yeah, for whose safety?" the man spits; did the woman not know that, if the Administrator should have her way, the two of them would not be leaving the building alive?
"Clients, whether contracted as mercenaries or otherwise, are not to know the location of the Administrator's Southwestern headquarters,"
"Just let it go…" Lawrence whispers, and Sniper sighs as the woman stands on tiptoe to tie another of the same band around the Australian's eyes.
"Hands out—I am only tying your wrists to simplify the process of leading you to the building, Mr. Mundy…"
"Go 'head'nd lead us to the firin' squad, Miss, I promise not t'cause too much trouble…"
Miss Pauling finds the wide snarl and the diabolical intent of its width to be momentarily stunning with its impact. A man who would laugh and grin at the thought of being led to death—she found Sniper's humourous regard for the situation beyond unnerving, and wholly irreconcilable; then again the Administrator had warned her she was dealing with mad men, with killers, to rationalize them would be effortless.
Still, as she leads the men through a pair of wide, uninteresting metal doors with the slight tug of her rope that wraps itself around Luc's wrist, she looks about the entering atrium of her workplace, tugging again on Luc's hand and jumpstarting the human train further along its trek.
"Please watch your steps, as we will be approaching downward steps in a few moments' time."
Scout lets out a soft gasp of surprise, his feet suddenly plummeting below as he reaches the initial decension, the weight of Luc pulling him forward catching his stumble before it ends painfully.
"This way, please,"
As if any of them had a choice in which direction they were headed. Still, Scout jumps as a door actually closes behind them, the veil lifting itself from his eyes by careful, thin hands.
"Hmph—so what is this, your gas chamber?" Sniper snarls, taking a disgusted look about the rectangular room Miss Pauling has corralled them into. To Scout it appeared to be as simple as a conference room; windowless, slate painted concrete walls surround them, a wooden table in the middle of it, with four neat chairs pushed in on each side.
"So a traumatic death by table, eh? I must admit I am jus' a little curious t'see how you plant t'go about it," Sniper chuckles, Miss Pauling flashing her eyes at the cynical Australian, ignoring his comment.
"I was instructed to hold you here until the Administrator is ready to hear your case,"
"Hear our case? Well isn't this a pleasant surprise," Sniper spits cheerfully, the mousey woman checking the room for exploitable means of escape.
"I am going to remove your restraints, however attempting to attack me and escape would be futile; the entirety of the base is on lockdown and Miss Ingram's guards have been alerted that prisoners with a murderous history are being held captive in these very halls,"
"Oh no, Miss, we'd never attempt t'escape, not after all that hard work you 'nd your boys went through t'bring us here…."
"Mister Mundy, please," the woman sighs, stepping back as she unlocks Sniper's handcuffs, the man however holding his hands up innocently, coupled with a highly faked smile.
"'S'alright, I ain't tryin' nothin'…"
"Should you try anything you will be cuffed and isolated, Mister Mundy," the woman tisks, Scout twisting his now freed wrists, Sniper taking the young man's hand into his and pulling him towards him. Luc flashes Jack a critical glare, hoping it deters him from making any irrational decisions.
"You have Mister Fitzpatrick and the three of you are safe and sound, there is no reason to eye me so, Mister Mundy—"
"You getting' a tude with me miss?!" Sniper growls, Scout's grip on his front clenching into the fabric of his vest, the young man silently willing for Sniper to drop the accusation. He does just this, All four heads turn quickly as the large metal door swings open with a weighted moan, Dmitri's suited frame and smiling profile cocked back in contemptuous satisfaction wasting no time in presenting itself.
"Oh, I have finally found you! This place is like a maze—These lads giving you trouble, Pauling?" the Italian chuckles quickly. "The Sniper I know has a tendency to bite if provoked, though honestly it shouldn't be your job to play babysitter to these lunatics! No, a lady of your beauty would be much better suited upstairs, far away from these madmen and out of harm's way! Just look at how they eye you, darling, with that feral lust in their eyes that speak to their libidos, coaxed out of them by your curvy nature,"
"'Ow often 'ave such stunning lines earned you zhe 'eart of a woman, Marino?" Luc rolls his eyes, Dmitri rounding his smile on the Frenchman.
"It's not a question of quantity but quality, Rousseau, and I can certainly say that it is not I fucking the sloppy, middle aged seconds of Boston—"
"THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY ABOUT MY MOTHER—?!"
"Calm down, Lawrence, 'e only means to rile you up…" Luc snarls, though clearly furious at Dmitri's words himself, his command to "calm down" a reminder that he too should keep his temper even.
"As I was saying, it's almost cruel the way you unknowingly seduce Little Larry, here, Miss Pauling. I'm certain the Bushman doesn't appreciate the way you so easily sway the eyes of his lover!"
Scout would rather Sniper's fingers dig into his arms and shoulders the way they do, soaking up his growing anger at Dmitri's taunting, especially if the alternative meant Jack should lose control of his temper and attack his mocker.
"It's awfully unfair of you to lead the Bushman on this way, Larry; I know on the battlefield one typically has to make do if it means feeling the touch of another, and for that I cannot blame you for fucking the man! But what are you to do when the war is over and you have a pining Australian at your heels—?!"
"Mister Marino please cease the provocation of the prisoners, I cannot risk them hurting you or attempting to escape in an outbreak of violence—"
"Escape? If they knew of the hordes of armed men dying for the excitement of a showdown, I assure you the thought ofescaping would be nothing more than a fallacy in their minds—besides, wasn't the condition the Bushman got to hold onto his Larry as long as he remained well behaved for the duration of the trial? I get the feeling as long as he wants to hold onto the little tyke he's going to remain passive,"
"Well could you at the very least close the door?"
"Not quite, Miss—Schmelzer I will not tell you to hurry yourself again!" Dmitri roars, pulling out a revolver from his breast pocket, firing into the ceiling, the wailing of Heinrich to be heard just a few feet down the hall.
"MISTER MARINO, HONESTLY—!"
"If the good doctor would maintain a steady pace I would not need to scare him into doing so!"
"Has he been interrogated?" Miss Pauling asks tiredly, growing sick of the Italian and suspending her distaste for the man by talking strictly business.
"I do not know, Miss, was it not your job to keep track?"
"The doctor was brought here before we arrived," she sighs, taking Heinrich into her arms and twisting him around, his wrists cuffed behind his lower back.
"Well, I see our work is done if the plan was to keep them detained here until the Administrator shall have them! Though I can only advise you leave these men and latch the door behind you on your way out, for you honestly have no business locked in a room with uncuffed criminals as a pretty young woman, the first one they've probably seen in years…"
"I appreciate your concern, Mister Marino—Mr. Schmelzer, have you yet been interrogated?"
"N—no—"
"Listen to how he whimpers—!"
"Mister Marino that is enough! You four are to remain in this room until summoned, is that understood? Every armed man on duty has direct orders to kill you on sight should you be seen without authorized accompaniment, and your complacency shall speed the process along,"
"Yes, speed along so we can cut to the chase! I am quite a fan of executions myself; never was one for the formalities—well, I bid you all adieu for now, and remember to behave yourselves, the janitorial staff aren't too fond of working overtime to scrub the walls clean of your remains…"
The door bolts and locks behind the two, and Sniper eases his grip on the Bostonian he holds, dark pink indentations peppering where the man's nails had dug grooves into his flesh.
"I absolutely hate that bastard; I hate 'im," is all Sniper can spit, glaring at the door. "If it weren't for you love I woulda ripped his jaw from 'is neck…"
"I know, Jack…" Scout closes his eyes, as if exhausted, patting him on the cheek.
"You did well containing yourself, Jack, and continuing to do so will be zhe only zhing zhat shall get us zhrough zhis…"
"Doc…" Scout whispers in a different direction entirely, taking a calm interest in the sweating, anxious German. "Doc, what happened to ya? You ain't hurt, are ya?!"
"Ach, Junge—do not fear for me, all vill be okay…" Heinrich coughs, snatching his glasses from his perspiring face and dabbing at his forehead with the back of his hand.
"What happened?! How the hell'd you even get arrested, dude?"
"I—I haven't so much been arrested, zank Goodness; I zink zey saw me more as a vitness. I vas in ze Medibay pretending to formulate an autopsy report ven ze Administrator's men stormed ze infirmary and informed me zat ze bodies in my lab vere most likely fakes,"
"What?! So you mean zhey knew?!
"And what did you say to that?!"
"I feigned shock; I vas surprised zey saw me as a victim of deceit and not ze deceiver outright, zough I used zeir ignorance to my advantage. I played a good show for you, Junge! I assumed ze role of ze insulted Medic—how dare you interrupt ze delicate procedure, have you no shame, ze body of my friend and comrade is amongst ze dead, zat sort of zing.
By acting inconsolable and affronted by zeir statement zat I could not discern decoy bodies from ze ones I am usually surrounded by, I vas able to buy you time for you escape—zough regardless ze men conceded to have me taken in and questioned, for zey knew Scout specifically vas escaping persecution, and zat ozers were helping him do so, and zat I could prove to be a key part to ze investigation,"
"Fuck, Doc…" Scout sighs, Sniper pulling the Bostonian into a soft hug.
"It is better zan I expected, I assumed zey vould pin me as an accomplice right avay, but zis vay gives me a chance to feign innocence and grow closer to zeir zought process and report back to you vat it is zey are zinking about ze whole deal,"
"So then you weren't interrogated?"
"No, not yet. By time I arrived zere vas vord zat rat had tipped off ze Administrator of your attempted escape from ze Fort and she had all her forces dispatched after you, I vas merely placed into a cell in ze meantime. I believe she vanted to vait until ve vere all before her to conduct any official interrogations,"
"Shit, Doc…" Scout shakes his head from disbelief, plummeting even further into a sense of dread. "Shit…"
"By zhe sound of zhings it is looking as if we may 'ave a chance to resolve it all! I gazher zhey are preparing a trial of sorts,"
"More like she gets us all t'gether in a room to explain t'her what happened before killin' us,"
"Positivity, Jack, look it up!"
"Oi! Stayin' positive 'nd shittin' rainbows ain't gonna be what it is that stops Lawrence from gettin' his bloody head cut off! Now I told ya I ain't just gonna sit around 'nd wait for her to call us up to'er death chamber, 'nd I aint sayin' it again. The way I see it, this is our last chance to escape if we're gonna do anythin'—'course, if that's what Lawrence wants…"
"What do you mean what I want?"
"Well I'm not gonna try pushin' outta here if the one I'm pushin' for doesn't want to," Jack chuckles.
"Are you runnin'?"
"'Only if you come with me…"
"…Too bad we didn't get Tavish in on this, these walls're lookin' too thick for us to try and do shit to…" Scout comments, running a hand down the cold, smooth concrete.
"We could always mash the table into the door 'til it breaks down—"
"Mon Dieu, do you boys not 'ave any concept of discretion?!" Luc groans, producing his butterfly knife from his breast pocket.
"Holy shit, Luc! How do you still have that thing?!"
"I've been captured enough to know 'ow to best conceal weapons," the man beams, strolling toward the metallic door.
"Why didn't you just stab the girl when she uncuffed us?!"
"Rambunctious animals hardly ever escape zhe zoo, you two; no matter what zhey are found and tranquilised. Look at zhis objectively—killing zhe Administrator's assistant would certainly ring a suspicious bell, non? Apart from zhe fact zhat spies only kill when necessary, leaving 'er body would spark attention, attention zhat would follow us right out zhe door. Just because zhis mezhod would allow us to exit zhe premises, it wouldn't be escape, for we would 'ave zhe entirety of TF Industries on our asses,"
"Well 'lright," Sniper scoffs, holding his hands up with resignation. "Was jus' a suggestion…"
"If we are to escape wizhout a trail, we are going to need to do zhis discretely, mezhodically, swiftly and efficiently,"
"How hard can it be, Frenchie? You got your PDA, just disguise as Pauling 'nd we'll follow you!"
"I do not 'ave my PDA, Lawrence—and as it is I also do not 'ave a cloaking device, I only 'ave my Dead Ringer…"
"Shit…"
"It most certainly complicates zhings, but does not make zhem impossible…"
"Why don't you just use the ringer t'produce a decoy o'Scout's dead body when she goes t'execute him?!"
"She knows ze difference, as ve have seen, Herr Sniper…" Medic sighs, running his hand across his forehead.
"So zhen we will simply 'ave to rely on stealzh,"
"Alright then, fine," Scout nods, eyeing Jack quietly. "I ain't scared, I know that we can do it…"
"'Einrich are you fit to run? You said she did not 'urt you,"
"I—do not zink I should go,"
"Doc, don't be crazy, of course you're goin'," Scout snaps quickly. "Where else would you go?"
"I fear zat if you run and I go viz you, it proves I am a part of ze plan,"
"Yeah, but she's gonna get it outta ya somehow, Doc, and you can't just sit here and wait for her to crack ya,"
"I can act, Scout, zat I have going for me…"
"You're gonna need t'put on quite a performance, mate. C'mon, jus' come with us, we promise we'll get Mikhail 'nd we'll all hightail it outta here!"
"I feel like escaping viz you vould only succeed in broadening ze conspiracy and vorsen ze extent of your punishment! Besides, if I claim to be a neutral vitness, I can plead your innocence,"
"If you're stayin' you ain't pleadin' shit, you're sayin' you don't know anything about this plan or me'nd Jack bein' together," Scout snaps, folding his arms, his face contorted in a threatening anger Medic mentally concludes must be an influence of Jack's; Scout'd probably been the receiver of such glares to be able to imitate it well enough.
"If you're gonna stay and be interrogated by her for our sake, you're sure as Hell gonna do it in a way so that you come outta it alive, Doc…"
"Y'heard 'im; y'don't know anythin' about our plans, about us bein' t'gether—not for our safety, but for yours,"
"But Scout, you must understand I do not vant to abandon you completely! I vant to go, to support you, but—!"
"You aint abandonin' me, Doc. You ain't never abandoned me; dude, what you did back there was fuckin' huge, or when you healed me that day, when Jack had me, that you never gave us away or treated me bad 'cause I was in love with him…you've been incredible, Deutschbag, and I can't thank you enough," Scout attempts to hide his humble giving of thanks behind his particular favourite insult.
"I know vat it is like, to love ze very one you are meant to kill—a Soldier of ze Reich, togezer viz a Russian Jew…"
"'Nd if you ever wanna see him again you better pretend like you don't have a fuckin' clue what's goin' on, Doc,"
Heinrich simply gapes; naturally the young man's threat, weighted and augmented in its sternness by the intimidating sharpness of his Bostonian accent, does much to even tame the doctor into nodding in agreement.
"You must forgive me, Lawrence, and understand zat it is not out of covardice,"
"I know, man, you've done more than enough—if it weren't for you 'nd Luc comin' up with that plan those dudes woulda put me against the wall and shot my brains out—you bought me time, a chance,"
"Lawrence being rational…a crazy zhing," Luc shakes his head. "Per'aps zhe lack of nicotine is making me 'allucinate,"
"I hardly believe it myself," Jack grumbles, Scout sticking his tongue out at the two men.
"It's been an honour to serve viz you, Lawrence," Heinrich sighs, placing a heartfelt, fatherly arm on his shoulder.
"You say that like we ain't ever gonna see each other again," Scout attempts to chuckle, though Heinrich can only mirror his gesture half heartedly. He'd long since learned that only worry narrowed Scout's eyes and caused them to waiver as they do now, an unspoken internalization Scout probably never realized his comrade recognised as a telltale sign, that Scout himself probably didn't even know betrayed his ever confident façade.
Though as the steel door opens again and Miss Pauling cuffs them once more, Heinrich can only wonder whether the moments in which the four look each other over in fearful anticipation, whether they truly were to be their last.