(A/N: Merry Smissmas, everybody. :) Apologies for the lateness, I was a little preoccupied... -cough- Foundryisforeverstalemate -cough-
But seriously, it either ends too fast or never ends at all...)
Title: Spies Like Us
Chapter 10: Incompetence
Ungracefully, her body made rough contact with the metallic staircase of the RED base. The echoing thud that followed, along with the boiling anticipation of someone hearing her, overrode the stinging pain that had begun to throb from her left side. The stink from the sewers permeated from the floor below. Violet clamped a hand over her mouth, grimacing as she pressed herself up against the wall. Her heart pounded against her ribcage like a caged bird and there was the strong, overwhelming urge to cloak. She soon complied.
Just as she disappeared, the faint – but characteristic – hiss of Respawn doors drifted from the floor above. A myriad of footsteps thundered into her ears; some heavy and menacing, some light and quick, and none of them in sync with the other; a haphazard applause of boots against concrete. There was a deafening explosion, followed by the pain-filled groan of the RED Soldier, who had thrown himself off the second floor ledge and rocket-jumped out of the barn, eager to return to the battle outside.
"MEDIC!" the gravelly voice bellowed half a second later.
"Mein gott…" came the exasperated groan from their doctor as the Soldier proceeded to scream "MEDIC!" continuously at the top of his lungs. "Make up your mind, dummkoff! Do you vant yourself hurt or healed?" Violet edged herself a few steps lower, keeping out of the way as most of RED thundered down the staircase.
"Loud man want get out fast?" a gruff voice, their Heavy, suggested, dangerously close. His footfalls on the stairway were steady as he cradled Sascha in his arms. The metal stairs groaned under his weight.
"True, but if he iz just going to get zent to Respawn five zeconds later, I'd rather haff him go slower and live longer," the Medic muttered darkly under his breath. The hum and whir of the Medigun filled the silence between them. "I'll haff to brief him on zat during ze meeting later."
Anticipation bubbling in her gut, Violet watched as the two of them jogged down the remaining steps, rushing out towards the battlefield. She would have given chase, if she hadn't heard another pair of footsteps quickly approaching her hiding spot. Furrowing her eyebrows, she gave a questioning glance to the ceiling above, wondering who else was left. She thought she had already seen most of the team outside-
A rough hand on her collar broke her train of thought - carelessly dragging her up from the metal stairs and slamming her against the wall. Her eyes widened as the air was knocked out of her lungs, her hand immediately grasping at the unseen force. There was the menacing click of a butterfly knife and a tightening grip around her throat. Violet stumbled on the tips of her toes, clawing and flailing at her assailant, trying her best to squirm away.
"My, my, what 'ave we 'ere?" a deep, accented voice murmured just as a suited man materialised before her eyes.
Violet would have welcomed the other Spy, if he hadn't been wearing red. He smirked, causing her to throw him a glare in response.
"I... am... the BLU Spy..." she grunted the answer, still trying to push his hand away.
To her irritation, the Spy simply threw his head back and laughed. It was loud, rough and wheezy, punctuated by the occasional amused snort. It was also painful, as it carelessly rubbed salt into the wound the BLU Soldier had given her earlier that evening.
Her vision began to blur.
Noticing her wavering consciousness, the RED Spy released her, his pale eyes narrowed almost sympathetically as she crumpled to the floor for the second time that day. Pitifully, she erupted into a coughing fit as she swallowed lungfuls of cold, damp air. She avoided eye-contact as she tried to regain her composure, a shaky hand clutching at her neck. It felt bruised.
"What," she coughed, shooting another glare his way. "What are you waiting for?"
"Ah, ma cherie, I could ask you ze very same question," he smirked, sliding his gloved hands into his pockets.
"If you want to kill me, you might as well do it now before I backstab your team," she threatened.
The Frenchman scoffed indignantly, casting his eyes towards the main entrance. "Like 'ow you almost sabotaged us by almost killing our Medic and Heavy?" He snorted at the silence that followed. "Mon dieu, I feel threatened."
Before she could retort, he suddenly took a step towards her. She countered by edging further away from him, backing herself up against the wall. "You might 'ave not noticed, cherie, but I 'ave been watching you. From ze very moment you stepped into our base." He cocked his head to the side. "And all I can zey is zat you completely lack any experience in stealth." She winced. "And ze only reason you are al-"
"You're sure more talkative than our Spy..." was the sarcastic murmur from the teenager, cutting off any further verbal abuse. The blow from his words burned painfully as she cast her gaze to the floor. Even the enemy thought she was incompetent... She heard him chuckle once more.
"A word of advice," the RED Spy offered her a hand. Her accusing gaze locked onto it, clearly hesitating. A few moments of self-debate later, she gingerly accepted it, averting her gaze to the side. Fluidly, she was pulled to her feet, awkwardly stumbling before regaining her balance. She blinked as she felt the Frenchman straightening her tie, blatantly invading her personal space. "Spies like us do not give out information so easily." He then tucked a lock of straying hair behind her ear, to which she grimaced and hastily side-stepped away. "Even though we might speak, cherie, more often zan not, our words can be close to meaningless."
There was a pause as he let his words sink in, a satisfied grin plastered to his masked face. Violet frowned and impatiently broke the silence, not quite understanding what he meant.
"What are yo-"
Her vision was consumed by darkness.
The RED Spy watched as the girl was cut-off in mid sentence, the lids of her mask slowly drooping over her now-lifeless eyes. Her body swayed once, twice, before falling forward to rest her lolling head onto his torso. A bright red line trickled from a bullet-hole at her temple, the owner of said projectile muttering a low and triumphant "boom, headshot" under his breath.
"Eet took you long enough," the Frenchman called over with a roll of his eyes. "I cannot believe it took you zat long to Respawn..."
"Yeh, no thanks to their spook," the RED Sniper shrugged.
"Highly unprofessional to blame your lack of awareness on ze enemy," the Spy snorted, pushing the corpse backwards. Violet collapsed loudly onto the concrete floor.
"High unprofessional for ya to have a conversation with the enemy," the Australian shot back, casting a dirty look to the dead girl. "And with their new Spy, no less."
"Hmmph, unlike you, jarman, I am a civilised gentleman," he countered, brushing off the front of his suit. "You do not seem too shocked of her presence, mon ami." An accusing look was shot in his direction. "Are you 'iding somezing?"
"Nah, I saw her 'fore this," Sniper muttered, unfazed by the accusation. "Shot an arrow through her arm." There was a pause. "Before she pushed anklebiter off the bridge..."
"Zat was her?" the Frenchman seemed genuinely shocked as he eyed the limp body. A smirk quickly replaced it. "Well, I suppose our Scout iz more incompetent zan I thought."
With that, he carelessly kicked the corpse to the side, not even wincing as Violet's skull slammed against the wall. Retrieving another cigarette from his case, he walked past the RED Sniper, leaving the man to absent-mindedly stare at the ragdoll.
"Yeah..." the sharpshooter murmured as their Spy disappeared. The memory of the glowing orb he had seen around the girl flashed through his mind. "Incompetent..." he echoed the Spy's words, not quite believing them.
The projectile spam on the bridge was disheartening for the new Spy, needless to say. Temples throbbing from the Sniper's headshot, Violet was in no condition to weave herself between the grenades without running directly into one with each attempt. She hadn't even tried bringing her forcefield back up - in fear of giving away her location too early - but after being blown up for the fifth time that night by thethirdcrocket that night, she was beginning to reconsider her game plan. The Respawn ceiling was not too comforting as she lay on her back, staring blankly at the fluorescents above. The cold floor on her spine was almost as brutal as the rocket that had slammed against her not too long ago.
The disapproving gaze of their Soldier bore deep into her as he materialised and rushed out of Respawn, an acidic mutter of "useless woman" carelessly tossed over his shoulder. Violet's senses were too numbed by the explosions to even wince at the man's words. She needed time to think.
"Yo, Demo! Dats the third time ya got done in by that Sniper o'er dere!" Scout's voice crackled into the receiver at her ear.
"Aye, lad, he be a downright menace," the Scotsman's drawl echoed as he Respawned. "I thought 'e was useless with that wee bow of his. Ha! But dere 'e goes! Shootin' his arrows like no tomorrah!" His yells were lowered to a vengeful growl, "Bloomin' git got me in the knee before finishin' me oof. Downright dirty. Wot 'appened tah fair play?"
A Sniper? They're easy picking for Spies.
"I could take him out for you," Violet's back straightened, the girl abruptly sitting up from the floor. Hastily, she scrambled to her feet.
There was a pause as their Demoman stopped in his tracks to observe her with his one eye. "Yah sure, lass?" Even in his half-drunk stupor, he managed to raise an eyebrow out of concern.
"Just tell me where he is," she insisted. "I'll take care of him."
"Snipes, hurry it up, man!" the RED Scout yelled enthusiastically as he skidded into the room. "They're startin' ta push in. Get out dere!"
"Speak fer yerself, anklebiter," was the casual reply, followed by the high-pitched 'clink's of a dozen bullets on a metallic table. The characteristic sound of Sniper reloading his namesake gun brought a cocky smirk to the Bostonian's face. "Oim here switchin' weapons. What about you? Not the best toime for dawdlin', boy," The Australian murmured before he smacked away the boy's hand away warningly. "No touchin' my gun."
"Aww c'mon!"
"Answer the question, mate," he murmured impatiently.
"Goes to show that ya ain't watchin' the score, mate," he snorted, grabbing his bag strap and giving his scattergun a small jerk. "It's two to nil. If I cap again, it's game over... as usual."
There was a pause.
"Bloody 'ell they're awful," the sharpshooter sounded genuinely sympathetic.
"I know, right?" Scout flashed a buck-toothed grin as Sniper walked away.
"Anyway, get out and cap so I can go to bed," the Australian called over his shoulder as he stepped out of Respawn. His hand absent-mindedly fiddled with the scope on his sniper rifle. "I'll take care of their push, just cap it."
"You're no fun."
"This is war, mate. Nothin' fun about it," he muttered under his breath. Striding over to his usual sniping spot, Sniper readied his gun and scanned the bridge. Just like Scout had warned him, the main offence was starting to push their way into their base. It was only a matter of time until their Soldier and Heavy countered them to push them out... and there they were.
Raising his gun to eye-level, he counted the seconds as BLU was pushed back onto the bridge. A smirk lingered on his lips as their Demoman's head peeped into his scope, just about to align perfectly with his crosshairs. His finger stroked the trigger, the marksman waiting for the perfect moment. "C'mon, you drunk buffoon..." he murmured mostly to himself. "A bit more to the right..."
Squeak, the faulty floorboard to his left creaked.
"Bloody SPOI!"
Instinctively, he lashed out, the slim barrel of his rifle making rough contact with what he presumed was the Spy's head. There was a sickening sound as his victim's skull slammed against the wooden wall, and a loud thud as he fell to the ground. "Ya gettin' rusty, mate," Sniper laughed, perching his gun on a nearby crate. He grabbed his Kukri from his belt. "Ya should've learnt from the last time ya fell fer my trap." Threateningly, he swiped the blade across thin air. "Now c'mon out so I can kill yah and get back to killing your team."
Suddenly, a sharp pain pulsed down his right arm, stemming from the back of his shoulder blade. The machete clattered to the floor as he let out a loud groan, his left hand blindly groping at the source of the pain. His fingers tightened around one of the handles of a half-folded balisong, gingerly tugging it out of his flesh. "Gettin' real rusty, mate..." he growled, turning around. "Forgettin' how tah backstab now aren't-"
His eyes narrowed.
"You," he hissed acidly.
Where the BLU Spy should have been, stood the young and inexperienced she-spy he had seen earlier that evening. With shaky hands, she tugged her revolver out of her hostler, fumbling with it before aiming it straight at him... the safety clip still on. Sniper cocked an eyebrow and sighed. It was almost painful to tryto kill her. "Who're ya tryin' to fool, sheila?" he sighed, throwing her butterfly knife into the deep chasm below. There was the dull click of the oppressed trigger as she tried to shoot him. As expected, no bullets came out. She tried again, to no avail, worriedly pressing down on the trigger over and over again. He murmured exasperatedly, "You best just run before I start losing my patien-"
"I am not incompetent!" she cried out defensively.
"I beg ta differ, sheila, ya just tried to shoot me with your safety still on!" he yelled back with similar intensity, a vein starting to throb at his temple.
Seeing her recoil, he took in a deep, laboured breath. "Now run off before I change my mind about killin' ya."
Stubbornly, Violet undid the safety clip and aimed the gun at his head.
"You'll regret pulling that trigger, sheila," he muttered warningly, his steely glare meeting her wide - clearly frightened - eyes. "Just... walk... away."
Hesitatingly, but boldly, she took a step forward to prove her point.
"Sheil-"
"Don't call me that," she spat.
He slid his hands into his pockets. "You know... I never liked children," he muttered.
"What a coincidence. Neither did I," came a familiar voice from right behind him.
Violet watched in disbelief as the RED Sniper fell face-first onto the floorboards, a fresh wound sprouting bright red blood from his back. In his place stood the BLU Spy, calm, composed and with a disapproving look on his eyes. He casually cleaned off his balisong blade with a handkerchief, his condescending gaze never leaving her.
Rooted to the spot, Violet's shoulders shook as she gripped the gun in her hands. Through her gloves, she could only imagine how white her knuckles were as she held it in a vice-like grip.
"Stop that," the Frenchman snapped, striding over to her and snatching away the revolver. "Your-"
"How dare you."
He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"How dare you!" she looked close to tears as she yelled at his face.
A moment of cold silence ticked by before the Administrator's voice crackled into their earpiece:
YOU FAILED!
The BLU Spy simply narrowed his eyes at her. Frustratedly, he extracted a cigarette from his case, and lit it without hesitation.
"Took ze words out of my mouth."
(A/N: Don't worry, guys. Violet will buck up soon enough...
Hopefully.)