Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't.

Cheers.

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"Sir.."

"Mmn.."

"Sir?"

"Bloody kangaroos.. They won't stay out of your yard, y'know?" the Red Sniper offered as he stared in a dazed fashion up at the ceiling.

The British Medic smiled meagerly, reaching out to lay a hand on the man's shoulder and shake him gently until he blinked and lowered his head to look loopily at him. He'd already taken note of the needle mark in the man's arm -- it could only mean that he was under the effect of some kind of new sedative. The head Medic had mentioned it to him in his initial on-base briefing though he wasn't particularly thrilled to see its first use applied to a member of his own team..

"Do you know where you are, Mister Sniper?"

"Mr. Sniper.. Ha ha ah.."

"Look at me. Hey," he patted the Aussie's cheek, waiting for him to blink again and put on a look with more focus. "You're in the holding cell, remember?"

"Mn.."

"They're going to be coming back in a few minutes to ask you some more questions," the Medic explained, his smooth forehead creasing with concern as he withdrew his hand to adjust his glasses, "I.. don't think you are guilty of what they're saying you are. I.. I went to see if the Decaspy -- your friend. I went to see if he'd come back, but he hasn't. I'll keep trying, Sniper. I'll tell him to hide until this whole mess is through, OK?"

The Sniper stared at him, attempting to try and keep his attention and right mind as he moved his mouth a little and bowed his head with closed eyes. Whatever drug they had pumped him with seemed to be a more refined version of the one they'd tried to use with the Blu Spy. He felt tired, but not enough to fall asleep. Lucid, but not enough to keep his words from flowing out of his mouth with little to no tact or thought.

"Ah? Tha'ss.. That's good, mate," lifting his head, the Aussie opened his eyes, smiling subtly and remarking, "You're young enough to be my son."

Humoring the man's drugged state, the Medic merely smiled a tight smile and nodded, "Yea.. But I have to go now. It wouldn't do well for me to be found here."

"Aw.."

Standing straight, the Medic adjusted his belt and nodded toward the Sniper with a slight frown, "Take care, Sniper. I'll do what I can from the outside."

The Sniper watched him backing away, watched his coat swish in slow motion through his loopy vision as the young man swiftly exited the room and subsequently jogged up the hallway leading to it.

However long it it really was? He felt like he would die of old age in that room until anyone came to check on him..

The hazel-eyed Red Spy sat at the Alarm-o-tron nexus with his feet kicked up onto its control panel. He appeared to be staring at a display on one of the many monitors dotting the surface of the giant machine.

Red dots peppered what looked like a blueprint of the Red base, several of them having turned green as he sat there and watched..

Motion detectors -- that's what they were. He'd placed them there himself after discovering the open vent which had likely been sealed before the Blu Spy's capture. His goal? To discover which methods the Blu rat was using to navigate their maze of a ventilation system. He had cleverly done so during the day, assuming correctly that the Spy might be walking around disguised as a team member while reserving the shafts for the night.

What sat in front of him now was a nearly direct pattern.

All lines pointed eventually toward the Blu base save for one which seemed to point into the heart of the Red one. That one, though rather rough in its patterning, pointed directly toward the holding cell. He could be acting on it. He could be setting up explosives in and around the area.. But for now he simply pulled at his cigarette, sighing smoke into the silent air of the computer room which sat conjoined to the briefing room.

He waited there, listening expectantly until a door clicked open behind him and shed some light into the otherwise screen-lit room.

Uninterested in looking to see who it was, the Red Spy pulled his cigarette from his lips and blew a fresh plume of curling smoke into the air above him, "Speak to me."

Footsteps approached calmly, the short Spy coming into view at his left as he glanced to the monitor and then to the reclining Spy in the chair. The man slid his eyes from the data to the paperwork the shorter Spy was carrying with him and lifted a hand to take it from him. The man spoke as he began to read.

"Zhere are no prints. Not from zhe Sniper.. Not even from zhe Spy -- although we did not expect any." The Sniper's friend turned a page and kept his silence. "But eet does not mean he is innocent, Monsieur. He could have thought a step ahead, used a towel or some type of cloth to hold zhe stylus, non?"

The Sniper's friend coolly read the papers, commenting, "I zhink we are looking for a betrayal which eez not here."

"And I zhink you are letting your heart cloud your judgment."

Placing his cigarette back into his mouth, the Sniper's friend looked evenly up at his short colleague and blinked gently before speaking again, "Well zhen.. Tell me why my heart sides with zhe facts while my judgment can see no reason why zhis man would betray us to zuch an extent?"

".."

"I believe we may be giving him too much credit here. He is no Spy. He has not had formal training nor could he so easily sway us all without a single mistake. Zhat eez not how he operates and even zhe best of us actors trip on stage at times. Eet eez why we are here, you know? To replace zhe Spies before us who happened to make zhat mistake and trip to zheir deaths."

"Still--"

"A Sniper could not pull zhis off, mon Ami." He tapped out a bit of ash, gesturing toward the screen with the rapidly-burning end of his cigarette, "Our evidence eez circumstantial at best. Our witnesses can only speak with praise for zhe man's character.. And zhen zhere eez zhe matter of him killing for our side."

"It could be a facade."

"You are trying too hard."

"You're not trying hard enough!"

"Pfeh.."

The shorter Spy frowned subtly, reaching forward to steal the other man's cigarette for once and throw it to the ground as his heel came down over it. Staring down the hazel-eyed man, he cast aside his refined submission and freely spoke his mind.

"From zhe very first day he began to 'care' for you, I sensed somezhing was terribly wrong. He does not act like his class, mon Ami. He does not conform to zhe standards of zhis team and now he has managed somehow to brainwash you into guarding him in zhe face of blatant circumstance and solid evidence! Do you not see it? He is using you to betray your own team and you will not even look at zhe facts!"

The Red Spy wordlessly plucked the burned photograph from his suit and pressed it against the shorter Spy's stomach which effectively caused him to stop ranting and start sputtering as he took and looked at it, "And what is zhis? A photograph of his treachery! Merde.. You really are far gone, Pierre.."

"I will wait until zhe Decaspy returns," the man said quietly, feeling the burn of his comrade's anger though not letting it affect him outwardly, "Zhe Sniper is innocent. ..but he will remain incarcerated until zhe Spy returns. Zhat will be zhe ultimate proof, mon Ami. One man may be a fantastic actor.. but I find zhat two in a row eez a hard act to swallow."

They had a relative standoff then, the fact that one of them was seated seeming to have no bearing on the hazel-eyed Spy's ability to look foreboding.

"..fine," the shorter man conceded as he dropped the photo into the Red Spy's lap, "Fine.. But Pierre? Know zhat I will only tolerate zhis madness because you have asked it of me. Know also.. zhat I will be zhe one to kill zhat Sniper and zhen you eef it happens zhat you are wrong."

".."

"..."

"I'll be happy to provide you a gun, in zhat case," the Sniper's friend concluded.

He reached into his suit jacket, staring up at the other man as he procured and lit a fresh cigarette. The shorter Spy narrowed his eyes, mixed emotions turning in them before he sneered and forced himself to simply stalk out of the room with stiff shoulders and a firm upper lip.

The interrogation would be continued in roughly half an hour -- he decided to use that time to try and recover..

Over in the infirmary, the Scout grimaced as he sat up and waited for the Medic to come and treat him for head wounds -- again. "Vhell, vhell.." said the German with a marveling tone, "It is a real vhonder you've managed to survive so many whacks to zhe noggin, Scout."

"I'm a fuckin' fighter, man!" he insisted, wincing as the Medic clapped a hand onto his shoulder and pulled him nearer to start removing bandages and get his Medigun set up.

It had been a good while since the healing tool had seen use -- a haunting and strange feeling for the head Medic as he turned it on and pointed it at the Scout's head. He hesitated to pull the lever, simply staring at the trickling head wound he'd stitched up early this morning. But when the Scout grunted and motioned for him to hurry, he quit admiring the beautifully-stitched wound and swiftly sent a jolt of red energy into the boy's temple.

"GnnnaaaAaahh.. Agh! Ugh.. Unf.."

The Scout made a variety of amusing noises -- he usually did whenever the Medic was fixing him up out of a need to look tough in front of everyone. No crying, no whimpering, just swearing and grunts and silly noises.

"Awww.. does de Fraulein have zhe Mittelschmerz?" the man asked as he shut down the gun.

"Gaaa.. Dude, fuck off. You go beat yourself in the head with a fryin' pan and see how you like that. Jesus, fuck, ah..." He leaned his head back against the wall and placed a palm firmly over his face as he tried to work his sore jaw. What a crummy place to get hit -- he loved to talk!

"You are free to go, Scout. Vhould you like a lollipop for your troubles?"

"What," the Scout asked flatly, opening his eyes to find that the Medic was actually holding one out. Where he got it from, the Scout had no idea, but immediately he thought to punch the man in the face.

...

OK, so five minutes later as he walked down the hall with a cherry lollipop sticking out of the corner of his mouth, he did a bit of re-thinking.

The last thing he could remember was being interrogated by a gaggle of Soldiers and Spies. There'd been a Sniper or two present as well, but mostly they just wanted to know who had attacked who and for what reason. He learned that the Pyro was not dead, but currently knocked into a light coma from the trauma to his head. His medical cot was sectioned off with a curtain -- no doubt to hide the fact that he couldn't possibly be treated with his mask on.

Other than that, the Scout could not recall much.

He'd been looking for the Blu Spy, he'd seen the Sniper standing in the mess hall. Standing in the kitchen wielding a frying pan.. and not his Kukri?

The blonde paused in the hallway and tried to call on his memory as he put a hand to the side of his aching head and shifted his lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other. Before the mess hall, he'd met with the Sniper, right? He was.. carrying his Kukri. But in the mess hall he had neither Kukri nor his quiver with him. Why not? Was it simply laying around the kitchen area?

..not that he could recall.

Lifting his gaze from the floor, the Scout turned around and headed for the mess hall with purpose.