(A/N: I really appreciate the feedback, guys. =D It's nice to know that there are people enjoying this random fic of mine. xD)
Title: Spies Like Us
Chapter 6: Disagreement
"This is UNACCEPTABLE!"
If Violet hadn't been in her wheelchair, she was sure she would've fallen backwards from the intensity of Soldier's sudden exclamation. His transition from calm to over-the-top furious was quite amazing, she couldn't help but notice. The man's face (or what she could see of it) was turning a dangerous shade of red and his teeth gritted together so tightly, she could see the veins forming along his jawline and neck. The source of this fury - a mere sheet of printed paper - had been promptly crumpled-up and tossed towards a nearby wall. The girl had watched as it bounced away into the darkness of the boardroom. Even now, she found herself staring at it, needing something else to look at other than Soldier's seething glare.
"Vhat iz all zis commotion about?" Medic appeared at the doorway, causing a sliver of light to spill into the room. (Violet thanked the Heavens) "I told you to go in and check on her, not lecture her."
"Watch that sassy tongue of yours, Fritz, or I will add your head to MY COLLECTION!" Soldier growled bestially, pointing an accusing finger at the confused doctor. Ignoring what the German had to say, as usual, ("Zat iz not mein name.") he stormed out of the room, his heavy boots thumping obnoxiously loud down the corridors. "WHOLLY UNACCEPTABLE!" Violet winced at the outcry that followed.
Medic then turned to the wheelchair-bound girl. "I didn't do anything!" she answered impulsively, holding up her hands up in surrender.
"Vell, somezing must have happened for Herr Soldier to be so angry," the doctor reasoned. She simply lowered her gaze to the floor.
Medic let out a frustrated sigh, folding his arms before noticing a white ball of paper peeping out of the shadows. With a questioning look to the girl - she simply glanced away at this - the doctor walked towards it, curiously picking it up. It felt incredibly light for something so volatile, he mused. Grey dust lined the outside and it smelt of the gunpowder that always caked Soldier's palms. Wondering what could have possibly been so horrible to incur the man's wrath, he slowly began to undo one of the crumples.
The official printed logo on the upper corner caused him to glance at the girl before even reading the rest. She could tell he hadn't read it, because he hadn't gone ballistic yet. "Maedchen, vhere did you get zis?" he asked cautiously, recalling what the Administrator had said about 'a life for a life'. He swallowed.
"The... ceiling," she murmured softly, somewhat unsure whether that was the right answer.
"It must've been very important for it to come from the ceiling..." he mused under his shaky breath. As if it was made out of glass, he pinched at another corner and pulled it open.
Dear BLU Mercenaries,
Your despicable losing streak while stationed at Dustbowl has caught my attention on multiple occasions over the past few weeks. Needless to say, I (the one signing your pay-checks) am extremely disappointed.
Furthermore, after today's meeting, my doubts of your non-existent abilities as mercenaries have only been secured. After careful consideration, I have reached my decision:
As it would be too much of a financial loss to Mann Co. to dispose of all of you, I have decided to assign a 10th member to your useless team. Hopefully, this upper hand (though I highly doubt so) would provide you with enough motivation to at least attempt winning. For once.
Her name is Violet Parr and she will be assigned to job class, Spy. I expect you to provide me with frequent reports on her progress. This is not a request, this is an order.
PS. It has also been decided that the Engineer, the Medic and the Scout will not be disciplined for breaching their contracts. Just see to it that it doesn't happen again. Or else.
- The Administrator
"WHAT?"
"She's bloody off 'er rocker, she is!"
"Now, Medic, are ya darn sure ya read that there letter right?"
"Hudda huh hurr!"
Medic knew it wouldn't be easy to break the news to the rest of the team.
"No, no, no, no, NO!" Scout punctuated each word with his clenched fist against the table. "You made that up, doc! Quit pullin' our leg!" The physician had barely heard his last sentence, everyone was speaking all at once now.
The entire kitchen – which frequently served as their informal meeting room – was in an uproar. Half of the mercenaries were standing up and yelling at the top of their lungs, while the others were sitting down, trying to come to terms with the shocking news. Everyone had something to say and no one was keen on listening. Medic had seated himself at the far end of the table, watching as the crumpled-up letter was passed around like a pot roast on Christmas evening. Occasionally, it would make a pit-stop as the one holding it inspected its authenticity. It would then continue its journey, leaving the last mercenary it touched in a zombie-like trance, the numbing realisation having hit him, full-throttle. Once the paper had passed the doctor's hands at least twice, a comatose silence had filled the entire room. The quietness grew so uneasy, the sound of the flickering fluorescent bulb was like nails against chalkboard. The eight of them (Soldier had retreated to his room to argue with his shovel) leant back against their chairs, wide-eyed and at a loss of what to say.
The doctor was relieved he had told the girl to wait in the infirmary, this was certainly not a discussion she should be involved in.
"This ain't fair," Scout was first to break the silence. No one was surprised. "I don't know what the crazy bitch is thinking."
"Neither do we, mate," Sniper muttered, unfazed by his swearing.
"Leetle girl is so small," Heavy piped, his eyebrows knitting together. "She will not last twelve seconds out of Respawn."
"Aye, she'll be in fer a world'a hurt," Demoman mumbled, surprisingly sober for once.
"Is this some sorta sick joke?" the Bostonian half-exclaimed. "Am I missin' sumthin' here? Some memo sayin' 'today is April Fools'. 'Cause I ain't laughin'."
"Huddaa hurr..." Pyro spoke up, holding out his index finger. "Mmmph mff hurr."
"You gotta point there, firebug," Engineer nodded, offering weak smile. "At least the three of us are safe..."
"Mmph!"
"Boys, are we forgettin' something?" their sharpshooter spoke up once more, picking up the letter and smoothing it out on the table. He then pointed to a line near the end. "The shiela's gonna be a Spy?"
Everyone's eyes suddenly fell on the BLU Spy, who had been silently puffing away during the entire 'meeting'. Unfazed by the attention, he let out a stream of white smoke into the air, watching pensively as it dispersed and faded before his heavy-lidded eyes. "Zat girl is no Spy," he muttered with finality, crushing his cigarette filter between his fingers.
"Well, mate, either way," Sniper retorted. "You'll probably have to train her."
"I politely refuse."
"You got no choice, pardner, boss's rules," the Texan murmured.
"Gentlemen, are we forgetting zat it takes years and years of intensive training to become a Spy?" he reminded his teammates acidly, a gloved palm falling onto the table. "And you expect me to teach a girl, a wounded, inexperienced child, all of my secrets?" He now looked at each of them directly, urging them to see the clear insanity of the situation. None of them showed understanding, keeping close to their Golden Rule: what the boss says, goes. The Spy let out an exasperated sigh.
"It doesn't matter 'ow good a Spy eez, a feat like zat eez near impossible!" he snapped in a snarled whisper.
"Wouldn't be too hard, all it takes is to be a sneaky scumbag," Scout mumbled under his breath and it took most of Spy's self-control not to wring his neck then and there.
"Kamerads," Medic spoke up, trying to ease the tension. He stood up slowly, lifting his arms as if to quieten them, though there was really no need. Everyone easily fell back into silence as the unofficial 'mother' of the team swept 'her' gaze over them.
"Herr Spy," he attempted to reason with him. "I know it is an inconsiderate request, but as Herr Engineer pointed out, ve haff no choice... You vill haff to train das Maedchen."
Spy said nothing, diverting his glare to the ceiling, roughly grinding his spent cigarette into a nearby ashtray. Everyone watched in anticipation, taking his quietness as silent consideration. Needless to say, they were disappointed when the man stood up abruptly, casting a glare at the doctor. The chair screeched loudly against the cheap linoleum. He then proceeded to walk out of the kitchen, his strides long and his footfalls louder than usual. Scout made a move to chase after him, but he was almost-immediately ushered back into his seat with a sideways tug from Heavy. The mercenaries watched as the suited man activated his cloaking device, his back disappearing into thin air.
And then, there were seven.
Honestly, Medic had been praying for the battle to be over and done with, and when the loud speakers blared "STALEMATE!" into his ears, the doctor was genuinely relieved. He didn't even mind that the score was zero-to-two with RED Team in the lead, every single fibre in the German's body was craving for one thing and one thing only: sleep. In fact, he had been longing for it ever since the godforsaken day had begun. He found it extremely ridiculous that so much could happen within the span of 24 hours... A girl had been wounded, found, on-the-brink-of-death, healed, escaped, found again, left alone with the Administrator, and was now, a fellow teammate. It sounded like the beginning of one of Demoman's bad jokes... after downing three bottles of whiskey. It always ends the same way, though: with the helpless drunk doubling-over and spilling half-digested alcohol all over the floor.
The doctor shuddered at the flashbacks, goosebumps forming under his sleeves as he pushed open the doors to his medicine bay.
"Welcome back, doctor," said a soft voice.
"Yes, yes," the German mumbled, tugging off his bloodstained gloves as he walked to his desk, ignoring the girl for now. She sat on the operating table as usual, and the doctor noted that she was holding one of his medical journals, her head hunched over the yellowing pages and long curtains of jet black hair hanging limply over them. Medic found himself wondering how she could read with all that hair obstructing her view. With a small shake of his head, he unbuttoned his coat and tossed it over a chair. He then strode across the room, retrieving a bag of birdfeed from one of his metal cabinets. Several small handfuls were emptied into a small metallic tray, the seeds clattering loudly, arousing the attention of the flight of doves perching in the alcoves above. Almost immediately, a cooing and pecking swarm had formed on the tray, Medic having placed it on the floor just in time to dodge the onslaught. The entire time, Violet read quietly, chewing on her lower lip as she did.
"Does that... interest you?" the doctor queried, to which she nodded absentmindedly.
"It's... intriguing," she flipped a page.
"Vell, as long as you vere entertained during ze battle." Medic then walked towards the operating table, reaching over their heads to adjust the Medigun, fiddling about with the switches and buttons. Unintentionally, the Dispenser next to the girl hissed as it healed his minor wounds.
"I'll have to fight too, won't I?" Violet spoke up after a moment's silence. "When I get better."
"Indeed." She raised her head and eyebrow at the short answer, just as the Medic gave her a glance over his shoulder. His hands still busied themselves with the healing ray, his fingers feeling about for a switch he couldn't quite locate. "However, Herr Spy is not... keen on teaching you at ze moment."
"Is he the one who looks like a fancy bank robber?"
The Medigun revved up loudly as the doctor's hand slipped over one of the dials, a sudden warmth rapidly surging through Violet's nerve-endings, causing her body to jolt forward. The man quickly corrected his mistake before doubling over, laughing, grasping at the edge of the table for support.
"Please... don't say zat in front of him," the doctor wheezed between bouts of laughter. Violet nodded, smiling weakly before a solemn look filled her face.
"Well, I wouldn't blame him for hating me," the girl murmured, diverting her attention back to the book in her hands. "I'd hate me, if someone else came in and tried to replace me."
Medic allowed a moment's silence to pass by before musing, "Vhat I don't understand is vhy the Administrator zinks you should be a Spy."
She flipped a page.
"Me neither," Violet lied.
(A/N: By the way, Violet's description of Spy = True story. One of my friends called him that. Ay, caramba!
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