Title: Spies Like Us
Chapter 9: Oppressed

Mission begins in sixty seconds, the ominous voice blared from the overhead speakers.

With a chaste glance to the ceiling, the youngest Spy drew in a shaky inhale, trying to quell the staggering shaking that had formed in her gut. Clenching her gloved hands and relaxing them sporadically, she winced at the way the tight scars across her palms tingled as they were stretched. Somehow, this small ache offered her a small bit of confidence. Violet rolled her shoulders a few times, attempting to appear calm and cool, a feint that most of her teammates immediately saw through. It had been their first time in battle at one point or another; they could spot the characteristic nervousness from a mile away. It was only Soldier who had been crude enough to address this, with a low under-his-breath mutter about how women shouldn't be allowed to fire a gun, and the fact that they were both standing in the same room a 'disgrace to his honour as a country-bound warrior'... or something like that. Violet pretended not to have heard – taking a small step in the opposite direction – but sore nonetheless from the verbal bruising.

"Hey, Vi," Scout's voice was punctuated with a friendly tap on her arm. "Nice mask ya got there."

"You think so?" she queried uncertainly, her fingers threading through her hair habitually. She had been beginning to wonder whether it had been a good idea to use her old super mask instead of the standard-issue balaclava she had received.

"Yeah, doesn't make you look like some weird bank robber," he snorted at his own joke, a challenging glance cast over to their Spy. The Frenchman took no notice of him, lighting a black cigarette and tethering it between his lips.

"A mask eez a mask if eet 'ides one's identity," he murmured after a slow drag of nicotine-filled smoke. "Eet was never meant to be a fashion choice, not zat you know anything about fashion, lapin."

"Well, sorry for not being a fruitloop like yerself," the Bostonian snapped. Violet was beginning to wonder whether his compliment had been genuine or that he simply said it to irritate Spy. From the frequent hallway arguments they had outside her room, she assumed it was the latter.

"This is why WOMEN should NEVER be in the ARMY!" Soldier's coarse bellow caused everyone's ears to ring painfully. "They make men WEAK. I will NOT have a bunch of high heel-wearing sissyboys in my TEAM, do I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

There was a half-hearted chorus of obligatory sir-yes-sir's, most of the team shocked at the abrupt outburst, but the rest with 'I knew it' looks on their faces. Soldier immediately snapped his head in Violet's direction, like a hawk swooping in for the kill. The overwhelming urge to turn invisible was building up as he stomped towards her, his heavy boots causing the floor to shake. Without warning, he roughly grabbed a handful of her suit and tie, jerking her forwards like a ragdoll. Her forehead pressed against the hem of his helmet.

"Listen here, cupcake," he growled, baring his teeth as she lightly clawed at the vice-like grip. "I do not approve of your presence in my team. If I had any say in this, I would PERSONALLY strap you to a rocket and fire you to Canada, because that's where sissies like you BELONG!" Violet swallowed. "But what the boss says, goes; so you're stuck here," Soldier spat the 'you're' as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. "As much as I would LOVE to pretend you don't exist, your screw-ups have the potential to lead us to FAILURE! So I'll make this clear, girlie: if we lose, I'm holding you entirely responsible!"

Violet could feel everyone's gaze on her, further fuelling her urge to disappear.

"Bu-But that's not fair!" she retorted, appalled by the man's sentiments. Didn't it say in the letter that they were on a losing streak? If they lost again, it wouldn't be all her fault.

"LIFE ISN'T FAIR, MISSY!" Soldier roared at her face, silencing any further verbal retaliations. "Every time we fail, you will assigned to cleaning-duty for a WEEK. Since you're not going to be useful on the battlefield, at least you'll be useful where YOU BELONG!"

By now, her glare was beginning to waver as tears threatened to form. She blinked them away hastily. Much to her dismay, Soldier immediately noticed this (but how he can see these things past his helmet, she didn't know) and smirked.

"Go on! CRY like the little GIRL you are," and with that he released his hold on her uniform, sending her crumpling to the floor. As if she hadn't already been insulted enough, he brushed his hand on the front of his jacket a few times, as if touching her had dirtied it. "UNLIKE YOU, I have a country to fight for." She hung her head as he stomped off, eyes wide in disbelief and cringing at the heavy smell of gunpowder smeared on her suit.

Mission begins in ten seconds! the voice caused her to recoil now, her shoulders tensing up.

"Heavy..." there was the low murmur from Medic, followed by the loud creak of a wooden bench, as if a large weight had been lifted from it. The sound of shuffling footsteps filled the stale air as a few of the mercenaries did last-minute weapon-checks and loaded up on ammo. She could hear the Russian's loud footfalls over the rest, extremely distinct and prominent compared to the others.

"Loud man too harsh on leetle Spy," she could hear Heavy's low voice from the corner of the room.

"WHAT? You're going soft too, blubberman?" Soldier seemed to sneer. "No wonder you no-good Commies lost the war."

Five...

"It ain't called 'goin' soft' if yah the one bein' unfair now," a Texan drawl spoke up.

"Aye, wot did the lass evah do tah you, boyo?"

Four...

"FINE, you pansies," Soldier snapped at Engineer and Demoman, his voice a challenging growl, appalled that his own men would go against his views. "All of you can do cleaning-duty, if it makes you FEEL better."

"What would I get if we win?" Violet asked, hastily pushing herself to her feet.

Three...

"What?" Soldier said, his attention – and everyone else's – on her now, having not expected her to recover so quickly from his verbal beat-down.

She stood straight and steady, eyes – though still moist – trained forwards in determination. "I said, 'what would I get if we win?'," she repeated, slower this time.

Two...

There was a pause before he sneered, cocking his shotgun roughly.

"We won't ever win with the likes of you."

ONE!

Loud sirens blared and metal doors screeched, signalling the beginning of the round. By the time Violet could react to the low blow of a comment, Soldier had already stomped out of Respawn, screaming the whole way. He didn't even give her a second glance, continuing onwards until he rounded the corner, his back disappearing from view. One by one, the rest of the BLU Team rushed out of the room, attention drawn to the battle that had just commenced. Some of them, however, cast sympathetic looks at her as they left, which she both appreciated yet didn't at the same time. (She laughed nervously at her contradiction)

Violet drew in a shaky breath when she realised everyone was already outside, engaging themselves in the blood bath she had – up till now – only heard and never experienced. A quick scan around the metallic room told her even Spy had snuck out unnoticed. She gave a small scoff, wondering why she had even bothered thinking about him in the first place. He hadn't train her, he didn't want to train her, what was she expecting? For him to suddenly have a change in heart and give her pointers right after countdown? No such luck.

She was alone.

Unaware Snipers are the easiest targets.

Violet recounted the quick notes she had made the night before, imagining her squashed-up handwriting along the margins of the Spy guidelines. Of course, she knew that this was a war, no amount of student-like note-taking would benefit her too much when faced with the dangerous end of a Soldier's rocket launcher. But, in all honesty, other than reviewing the map layout for the hundredth time and trying to use the balisong effectively, she didn't know what else she was supposed to be doing. By the end of the night, her neat top-student handwriting had been reduced – or more accurately, increased – to a large and clumsy scrawl. It had been interesting to see the gradient of her worsening script when she reviewed her notes that morning. Her hand still ached from holding the pen too long while her cuts were healing.

Avoid Pyros at all cost.

Emerging from the sewers, she drew in a long breath of relief as the cold night's air filled her lungs. The stench permeating from the large pipes behind her was more than enough encouragement to continue forward, Violet determined to put as much distance between her and the drains. What held her back, however, was the intimidating darkness reaching out from the deep, wide pit before her. The narrow, flimsy train track didn't look too secure as well. Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart followed suit, throbbing at the base of her neck. This was not going to be easy.

Pay attention to enemy behaviour.

A myriad of explosions were set off all at once on the large bridge above her, their team's Demoman letting out a deranged laugh before bellowing out a loud, obnoxious "Ka-beeewwwwwwmmm!" to the enemy. There were yells of protest and screams of encouragement, Violet heard no commands, no warnings, no 'incoming's, it was every man for himself and whoever got left behind was given a one-way ticket to Respawn. The complete and utter chaos, with missiles, grenades and jars of questionable liquids being thrown in all directions, worried the girl somewhat. She didn't know much about the war and how it worked, but she knew of the consequences of disregarding teamwork. Curiously, she wondered whether that had been their problem all along...

Alert! The enemy has taken our intelligence! the Administrator's whisper crackled from the listening device at her ear.

In Double Cross, the commonly-used route while capturing the Intelligence is through the sewers.

Gut feeling told her to pull her body to the side, the girl pressing her back up against the concrete wall. Slipping the butterfly knife from her pocket, she did a quick flip, opening it up jerkily and clumsily grabbing the handle just as it almost slipped her. If she hadn't heard the sloshing footsteps or the cocky "I gottit! I gottit!" from the drain, she would have praised herself. Violet swallowed and poised the knife for a killing stab, her heart-rate hastening as the footsteps drew closer, closer, closer...

The sound of an arrow cutting through the air snapped her attention to her other arm.

Always remain aware of Sniper locations. Always.

"Ahh!" her scream left her before she could stop it, butterfly knife falling from her hand and the blade embedding itself into wet soil. The pain that surged through her body – stemming from her left arm – caused her entire frame to tense up, her breath hitching for the second time that night. Bile rose to her throat when she dared to glance at the wound. It was one thing to feel an arrow going through your wrist, it was another to actually see it. Somehow, it made the pain all the more worse, seeing how bright red blood began to dribble down the grey wall in alarming rivulets. 'It must've hit a vein,' she thought far too calmly to be referring to a mortal wound. Her attention was snapped away from her own morbid thoughts when she heard the Scout's footsteps – slower this time – emerging from the large drain.

"A girl?" came an arrogant snort, not unlike their own Scout's. "The fuck is a girl doing here?" He stood before her, a scattergun cradled in his bandaged hands and with their intelligence strapped to his back, a stark contrast of blue on red. Sheets of paper slipped from the seams and fluttered to the ground, which he stepped over nonchalantly. "Pfft, what's this? Playin' dressup, are we, lil girl?" he scoffed, and then guffawed as if it was the most hilarious thing on earth. Violet silently seethed at him, narrowing her eyes into a steely glare. "Never thought I'd say this, but you're pretty smokin' fer a spook, heh heh." A second later, a dark aura of bloodlust formed behind his eyes, and Violet found herself staring down the barrel of his scattergun. "Problem issat it's the wrong colour. Red could suit'cha betta." The RED Scout cocked it, a red bullet case falling to the ground. She eyed it nervously. "Lemme fix that fer ya."

Avoid trying to backstab Scouts. They're usually too fast and they're dangerous when encountered close range.

"See ya, Lil' Miss Spy."

RED Scout fell to a clumsy, painful death

Our Intelligence has returned to our base, the Administrator's announcement caused most of the BLU Team to cast each other questioning glances.

"What? Our Scout didn't even drop it!" In the midst of the bloodstained battlefield, the BLU Team could see the RED Soldier bellow out profanities into his receiver, "You no-good city-slicker, what did I tell you about falling from the BRIDGE! No excuses! WHAT? What do you mean you were PUSHED?"

Violet's breaths echoed ominously into her ears, her relieved exhales distorted by the flickering forcefield she had made at the very last second. Purplish-white electricity pulsated all around her, a protective aura that, thankfully, had enough force to push back the enemy Scout. The shock of being so close to Death – regardless of whether temporary or not – still shook her bones, causing more lightning to crackle and shoot across the field.

It flickered and faded a second later, leaving her vulnerable once more.

"Vi, hey, Vi," crackled their Scout's voice, startling her at first.

"Y-Yeah?" she stumbled over her words, still a little shaken and her wrist still bleeding.

"You did that? Everyone else in on da bridge."

"Yeah... I guess I did..." Leaning over, she grabbed her butterfly knife and began to saw at the arrow, trying to free herself.

"Wow, yer a force not to be reckoned with!" he laughed as he said it.

"I... I guess I am." The tail end of the arrow fell to the ground and she tenderly pulled her hand away from the wall, shuddering and wincing as it was threaded through her wound.

"Keep up the good vork, kamerad!" Medic – ever supportive – called into his receiver.

"STILL NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" Soldier's scream interrupted everyone else's praises. "But appreciated, girlie."

"Yer not gunna say anything, Spoi?" Demoman drawled.

There was a moment of static. Violet listened eagerly as she made her way up a nearby flight of stairs, her left arm held tight against her chest.

"She earns my praise when she executes a proper backstab, what a Spy is supposed to do," he emphasised on the last half of his sentence.

"Pfft! Sure she can! Right, Vi?" She was a bit embarrassed at how much confidence Scout had in her. Spotting her team halfway across the bridge, she jogged to their Medic, feeling the blood start to seep through her suit.

"You bet," she replied, more than determined to prove herself.

(A/N: Reviews are much appreciated. =)