Title: Spies Like Us
Chapter 4: Breathless
Needless to say, the entire base was in an uproar. On second thought, it would be a serious understatement to refer to the current fiasco as an 'uproar', it was as if Pandora herself had opened her signature magic box. Yeah, that would be a fair description: the epitome of chaos.
All nine mercenaries had dispersed from the dining room the moment Heavy announced the girl's disappearance; the plate of cold bacon forgotten on the table, which under normal circumstances, Engineer would consider a heinous crime. But the mechanic was far too preoccupied with things other than breakfast at the moment, the man sprinting down the hallways as fast as his legs could take him. He knew that it was probably useless to return to Medic's infirmary, but a strong impulse sent him there. An overwhelming hunch, if you must, told him to search the medicine bay carefully before joining his comrades in overturning each and every room of their base. Whether this gut-feeling was reliable or not, he wasn't sure, but all he knew was this: if he didn't follow through with it, he would probably regret it for the rest of the day. The rest of the week, if she managed to get away, because seven days of Soldier's ear-numbing lectures can really bring a man down.
Pressing his gloved hand against one of the double-doors, he gave a hard shove, causing the door to swing open dangerously. There was a clang and clatter from the room and the Texan hurried inside, goggled eyes scanning the cold clinic. Everything was still. The Medigun remained where it was, poised above the operating table, softly humming as its healing beam saturated the empty table with its light blue glow. The Dispenser was equally useful, idly standing by the empty bed, the blue tinge radiating from the meter as it was left running. Disappointment nipped at Engineer's chest as he walked towards the middle, a small sigh leaving his lips when he switched off his machine. 'Nothing, absolutely nothing,' he thought with a frown, reaching upwards to unhook Medigun.
He stopped abruptly.
An overturned cart of syringes and scalpels splayed out right next to the bed, the sharp blades glinting in the Medigun's glow. The Texan cocked up an eyebrow before turning his attention back to the entrance. 'Something fell when I opened the door,' his breathing deepened. 'But the cart is nowhere near the door...' The familiarity of the situation caused his body to work on autopilot, the usually quiet and easygoing Engineer disappearing as a deadly, blood-thirsty aura came over him. 'Spy around,' the thought fuelled him as he extracted a handgun from his belt. Over time, the mechanic had learned to morph his fear into malice, which explains his almost frightening transformations whenever he suspected a spy's presence. "Show yerself, Spah! This ain't no time fer yer twisted games!" he growled accusingly to the seemingly empty room.
"I'm not a spy!" a small retort came from his right. It was high and shaky and nothing like what Spies sounded like. But then, aren't they masters of disguise? Changing voices would be child's play for them. Engie aimed his gun at the corner, undoing the safety clip dangerously. "Don't shoot!" the voice squeaked.
"The fact that yer invisible now is proof enough that you're a Spah!"
"I. Am. Not. A. Spy. Ah!" The casing 'clinked' as it hit the ground, the exact moment a smoking bullethole appeared in the wall. He was sure that Medic wouldn't appreciate him turning his walls into Swiss cheese, but this Spy was starting to get on his nerves. His grip tightened on the gun. BLU Spy wouldn't dare pull a prank like this on him, so all that leaves is the RED Spy. After all, who else could turn invisible around these parts?
Another clatter to his left caused the Engineer to release a torrent of bullets onto a life-sized poster of the human digestive system. Only when his handgun gave a few pitiful 'click's did he realise he was out of ammo. Funny, he had been expecting to catch a glimpse of that familiar, godforsaken red-tinged outline. Cautiously, he replaced his gun on his holster and took a few, careful steps forwards, his heart thumping like a jackrabbit as he neared the wall. The dull ends of his bullets stuck out from the poster, glinting in the dim light. 'Not a single hit?' he thought before his breath hitched in his throat. 'A decoy?'
Just as the realisation sank in, the doors to the infirmary swung in a non-existent breeze.
"Darn Spah!" he grunted in frustration, throwing his hardhat onto the ground.
Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert! Red Spy in the Base!
"What?" was the audible exhale as Scout's hurried footsteps screeched to a halt. His chest heaved, his breathing deep from his run. Adrenaline still surged through his veins and his heartbeat still pounded against his eardrums. These sensations usually fuelled the Bostonian's running spirit, but the gravity of the announcement struck him cold. The RED Spy? Again? The last time he was here... His body tensed at the memory, the boy shaking his head, attempting to jerk it out of his system. No, that can't be possible, they were in a ceasefire. No matter what agenda one of them held against the opposite team, no one ever dared to breach the contract. 'This is a mistake,' he thought stubbornly, his hand clenching into a fist.
The sound of a doorknob clicking behind him caused his whole body to do an about-turn.
He had been too slow to catch a glimpse of the culprit's face but he did spot the tips of what looked like straight black hair disappear into their utility closet. Strange... No one had long hair in their team, unless of course their Pyro had decided to take off its gas mask for once, which was just as probable as their Spy removing his balaclava... and then doing the cha-cha in front of the whole team.
That could only mean...
'The girl!' he thought with relief. 'She's still here.'
Trying his best to keep his footsteps silent, he paced over to the closet, awkwardly balancing on the tips of his toes. It was ridiculous and very uncharacteristic for him to be sneaking around like a no-good Spy but desperate times called for desperate measures. Solly was going to have his head if she got away for real. He gave a sarcastic eye-roll as he approached the door, his hand reaching forwards to open it.
However, the soft coughing and panting from the other side caused his hand to hover hesitatingly, a mere inch away from the doorknob. A shuffling noise followed, causing the next sound of a broom falling over. There was a soft rattle of metallic shelves as - he assumed - she moved around, her rapid breathing clearly audible the entire time.
He let out a small sigh. It didn't take a genius to know that she was scared. Somehow, he felt guilty for her strife, a sinking sensation growing in the boy's gut. Scout drew in a slow, deep breath before expelling it through his nose.
Ignoring all common sense, he opened the door.
The cold concrete pressing against her back caused her to draw in another gasp of dank, musty air. Hastily, she clamped a hand over her mouth as the daunting silhouette of a man stepped past the doorframe, his elongated shadow stretching across a tall shelf of soaps and detergents. Her first impulse was to turn invisible, but her sprint from the infirmary had taken a toll on her. She hadn't expected someone to find her so quickly and she mentally scolded herself for being so reckless. Her attention was snapped back to the newcomer as she watched him rub the back of his neck almost nervously.
'Maybe,' she thought hopefully. 'Maybe he'll go away.' Eyes wide, she pressed herself even further into her corner, hoping that the shadows were enough to hide her-
"I know you're here," the voice sent shivers up her spine and her heart began to race again. "Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you."
'Yeah, just like how that man tried to shoot me!' she thought, pulling her knees up to her chest. A small gasp left her lips before she could stop herself. Her side... it had started to hurt again.
"Go away," she murmured feebly, surprised at the hoarseness of her own voice. She was suddenly aware that she hadn't eaten or drank anything the day before.
The day before...
Those three words resounded through her mind, repeating over and over like a demented broken record, sending dread spiralling into her gut every single time. What happened yesterday? The more she thought of it, the more she couldn't recall. Another pang of realisation hit her hard. She couldn't remember. "What did you do to me?" she demanded rather loudly, unable to control herself.
"What?" the question caught him off-guard.
"I said, what did you do to me?" she rasped angrily, watching her volume now. It would be bad if anyone else found them. "Why can't I remember anything?"
"Hey, hey, we didn't do nuthin to your memory," he seemed shocked at the accusation. "All we did was heal you."
"Heal?" she echoed, not quite believing him.
"Yeah, the Medigun- I mean, the machines," he corrected himself. "They were helping you get better."
Her memory fluttered back to the infirmary; waking up on the operating table, the blue glow, the menacing scalpels and syringes by her side. She shuddered lightly. That was healing?
"You were hurt pretty bad last night," he continued, his voice lowered to a more solemn tone. "Medic said there was nuthin we could do to save ya... You lost too much blood and were 'unstable'... or sumthin."
There was a pause and Violet's breathing grew shallow at the realisation of being so close to Death. She lightly touched her neck with her fingertips.
"We decided to break company rules and heal ya." Her attention was brought back to him when he said this. Though she didn't quite understand, his tone suggested that it had been a pretty big rule they decided to break.
"You... saved me?" she said slowly, trying to wrap her mind around the words as they left her mouth. It was so hard to digest, all this information.
"Well, not 'me' specifically," he corrected her. "It was mostly Medic and Engineer's doing."
Her gaze fell to her feet, her tiny, shaking hands clutching at her arms in an attempt to calm herself. 'I'm alive... thanks to them,' she thought, shoulders rising and falling with every breath she took. 'They saved me...' Swallowing again, she winced at the dryness of her throat.
"Thank you," it was barely louder than a whisper.
"Don't sweat it, no big deal," the man brushed off casually. She found herself smiling lightly as she saw him rub his neck again.
"Hey," he said, as if just remembering something. "Erm... could you... come out now? I mean, since you know we're not gonna... y'know, hurt you."
The request was met with momentary silence.
"Yeah, I guess so," she said after awhile. Gingerly pushing herself to her feet, she paused a fair bit as she waited for her body to stop swaying. Fatigue was beginning to eat at her, she noted, taking a few shaky steps towards the light of the doorframe. Scout side-stepped as she approached, letting her pass through first.
The blinding, bright lights caused her eyes to snap shut, the girl turning her head to the side as she tried to blink the blaring redness away. A hand reached up to shield her squinting eyes from the glaring fluorescents and she gave a small nervous laugh.
That laugh was cut short, however as she felt her entire body jerk forwards. Pain, sharp and searing, attacked her side and for a frantic split-second, she wondered whether the boy had lied to her.
"Oww," she mumbled, clutching at her abdomen with her free hand and doubling-over. The metallic scent of blood filled her lungs, Violet stiffening as it seemed to choke her. Slowly, she lifted her hand to see the familiar redness smeared across it. Wait, why was it so familiar? Did this deja vu have something to do with last night?
"Hey... wounds... reopened..." his voice seemed so far away for some reason. Violet tried to look back at him but the blackness of her gloved hand seemed to have spread across her vision. Cold shadows started to eat away at her sight and she found herself falling forwards into pure darkness.
"...hey..." the no-longer-familiar voice gurgled as her consciousness slipped away.
With a small roll of his shoulder, he stepped out of the infirmary, his right hand massaging his left arm tenderly. It had been awhile since he last carried a woman, he mused. Slowly, he began to pace down the waiting room corridor, being careful of how loud his footsteps were. Behind him, the heavy double doors swung shut, silencing the low hum and hiss of the Medigun and Dispenser. He didn't have a reason to glance back at her for the millionth time that day, he knew perfectly well by now that she would still be lying on the operating table, the healing glow of both machines bathing her frail body in the soothing blue light. Fresh bandages had been wrapped carefully around her wounded abdomen, the old ones promptly discarded in a large bin at the corner of the medicine bay. He let out a long sigh, recalling how he had dropped down to his knees to catch her as she fell. 'She wasn't fully healed and yet, she still ran for her life, trying to escape,' he thought, admiring her determination. That sort of fighting spirit was astounding for a girl her age.
Suddenly, unease coursed through his veins. Would she try to escape again? After all, she didn't seem to remember what happened last night. Would her memory fade again like it did today? His thoughts paused as he realised:
She wouldn't know that he had saved her life twice now.
'This is ridiculous,' he thought with a frown, delving his hand into his pockets and hastily rummaging about. 'Absolutely ridiculous.'
As if a calming wave had washed over him, his entire body relaxed the moment he felt a familiar rectangular smoothness graze his fingertips. Carefully, he withdrew the little, thin box, forcing any lingering worries out of his mind. Honestly, he couldn't care less for a silly little girl; he was itching to remove this horrible disguise and indulge himself in a much-deserved cigarette. Ah, yes... The enticing aroma of a Sobranie Black was far too tempting to deny.
The Spytron 3000 was flipped open swiftly and the blinking red button pressed without further hesitation. Almost immediately, his disguise seemed to melt away, subliming into a mist of white smoke; the boy's distasteful outfit shone blue as it faded, revealing his signature suit and tie. A soft 'whoosh' filled his ears as his cheeks grew tight, his flesh mask seemed to peel off like paper from the edges of his face. Sure enough, all that remained of his previous disguise was a flimsy paper mask, which he slid off eagerly and stored in the inner pocket of his jacket. Just as he was about to habitually straighten his suit, he caught sight of a ghastly bloodstain smeared across his front. The dark claret contrasted against his deep blue like a spotlight on red curtains. He winced. It must've come from her, he thought with a small frown, pinching the hem of his jacket to examine it carefully. Merde... He could already see the unholy number printed on his next dry-cleaning receipt.
Spy let out an exasperated groan.
"Ah, petite, you got blood on my suit."
(A/N: Oh Spy, you enigmatic man, you... =) Remember to read & review!)