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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"Ashes," the short Spy asked flatly.
"Read 'em and weep, buddy," the Scout said, hands lifted in a shrug as he watched the Spy examine the grainy grey dust in the plastic baggy he had brought from the mess hall. "Was in the kitchen area, dude. We clean up every evenin' so dun tell me one uh you jamokes dropped it there."
"And how, exactly, does zhis prove zhe Sniper's innocence, boy?"
"Snipes don't smoke, man," the Scout said, index finger lifted pointedly as he continued, "Guy can't stand the way it smells. You ever watch him when he's in briefin' wit you penguins. Pal uh mine said he saw him choking on it when you yanked him out his fuckin' room this mornin'."
"You are zhe one who pointed us in his direction, Scout.." the Spy reminded with a hint of frustration in his voice.
"Hey pally, I fuckin' told you what I saw cause you asked. I didn't tell you t' go throw him in a fuckin' jail cell, a'ight?" The Scout, having since finished his lollipop, rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he assumed a more predatory stance, "You did that all on yer own. So hey man, you tell me.. Why's there cigarette ash in th'kitchen if the Pyro's got asthma and the Sniper can't stand that shit? Weren't nobody there but us three."
The Short Spy was quiet for a little while, setting down the baggy as he paced slowly away from the Scout and thought a few things over, "Eet is possible eet was a Spy, in zhat case."
"Oh, only possible? Hard evidence ain't enough fer you?"
"He would need to be able to assume a disguise, Scout. No such devices were found missing."
The Scout could be heard moving up behind him, "Oh yeah? And where'd you look? In here?" He thumped a fist against the nearby safe. "Where else do you keep those things, dude, I guarantee he's got one."
Opening his mouth to retort, the short Spy hit on a revelation.
With his jaw still subtly agape, he glanced at the Scout and lifted his cigarette, shaking his hand a bit, "..Zhere.. Is still a place, actually." He turned more directly to him, watching the boy incline his chin cockily and tilt his head. "..Come with me, boy."
Suddenly alight with great interest, the Spy grabbed up the baggie of ashes and stepped from the room on his way toward the dorms. The Scout followed right behind him, bat pulled from the table and hefted up onto his shoulder as he followed with a deliberate tone to his step. They were on the road to evidence -- on the road to proving the Sniper's innocence.
If a Spytron could be found missing in one of the rooms they were headed toward, it would solidly prove the Blu Spy capable of assuming any identity.
It would prove that the Sniper could not have been in the mess hall that night and that, perhaps, he was not a traitor after all.
The Sniper's friend had other plans, however..
He walked into the holding cell, the door falling shut behind him as he approached the Engineer and Medic who were already inside. They had spoken briefly only a few minutes prior to entering, choosing to purposefully enter at different times for reasons only the Red Spy knew for certain.
Sitting right where he was left, the Sniper blinked in a subdued fashion at the three men and lifted his head as the Spy drew near.
Laying a gloved hand on the back of the chair, he dragged it from the table and spun it around as he stood before the bound sharpshooter. "Is it working?" he asked, his words likely directed to the Medic who nodded curtly.
"Ja, vhe have tested him already. He vhill give you no trouble, Herr Spy."
The masked man observed the drugged Sniper seated before him, thinking before starting his line of questions, "Where is zhe Blu Spy, Monsieur?"
"Oy dunno.."
"Zhink, Monsieur.. We all know you are working with him," the Spy insisted as he leaned forward to grip the Aussie's shoulders and glare him right in the eye. "Now tell me.. where is he? Where is he going next?"
The Sniper flinched belatedly, blinking a few times to try and focus, "Oy.. Dunno, mate. Hn.. Dunno where 'e is."
Growling lowly, the Spy reached into his suit jacket and produced his pistol. He grabbed the man's shirt front and pushed the nose of it up under the Aussie's chin, "You have three seconds to change your mind and tell me zhe truth, Monsieur. I recommend you begin now."
The Engineer glanced at the Medic and back toward the pair, counting the seconds in his head and frowning subtly when they passed and the Spy punished the Sniper's silence with a violent pistol whip. A fleck of red hit the floor several feet to the Aussie's left, his head hung low in that direction as he coughed and groaned from the sting of that cold barrel.
Twirling the Ambassador in his hand with an eerily calm expression, the Spy grabbed the Aussie's chin and forced him to look at his face, "Why eez he here, Monsieur? Who eez he planning to kill next?"
"Oy.. d.." the Sniper sputtered, eyes shutting and opening as he flitted between focus and delirium, "Oy've no idea.. what 'e wants.. Mm.. Nice gun.."
Without hesitation, the Red Spy smacked him across the mouth again with it, standing upright and kicking him squarely in the chest so that the back of the chair collided with the table and nearly pushed it over.
"H-hack! .. Ha.. Ff.s.." the Sniper curled in on himself, wheezing and attempting to recover the breath that had been so violently pulled him his lungs.
"Don't play games wizh me, traitor! WHERE. IS. HE?" the Spy demanded as he advanced on the gasping captive and cocked the Ambassador as it found a home against the Sniper's bleeding forehead.
The Aussie spat out a bit of blood, likely from biting his tongue in direct response to the Spy's various blows.
He peered cross-eyed at the barrel of the gun, coughing weakly as he felt it grind in deeper and push his head back at a highly uncomfortable angle, "H-hey, mate.." Blinking tiredly, he narrowed his eyes and looked from the gun to the man holding it as a string of entirely unrelated thoughts left his lips, "Remember when you were capturing intel that day?" The Spy wasn't really sure where he was going with this, but he allowed it to continue. The Aussie smiled, clearly without his sense for the moment, "Oy've never seen you so scared. Did you think you were gonna die?" The Spy didn't answer though the Aussie continued to ramble. "Aw mate.. I wouldn't let them Blus kill you. F.. Fucking pikers.. Heh.."
The Spy found himself staring at the Aussie, his mask of anger flinching slightly to reveal some of his true feelings. He was quick to suppress them, frowning rigidly and tugging his gun back with a snarl as he glared toward the Medic, "Zhis isn't working. Run zhe formula again and find me a combination zhat works." He snorted, looking at the Sniper with pure disgust, "He eez useless to me in zhis condition. We will do zhis again later."
"Jawohl, Herr Spy," the Medic said crisply, his frown ever present as he glanced to the prisoner and then shook his head. "I vhill be in de infirmary. Send somevhone if his health declines."
Nodding subtly, the Red Spy dismissed him and gave an equally final look to the Engineer, "See zhat zhe Sentries are running near zhe Blu base. No doubt our Blu problem eez still out zhere running amok.."
"Well all right then, Mister," the Southerner said dutifully. He pulled his wrench from his belt and nodded to the Medic to go and get the door as the two of them left the room.
Left alone, the Spy stared down at the Aussie who seemed to be a bit more focused now and failing to make eye contact with him.
As one last act of disgust, he sneered and shoved his ambassador into his jacket while spitting at the Aussie's feet. "You two-faced liar.. And to zhink I considered you a friend.." The Aussie hung his head low, eyes closed and remaining that way until he heard the Spy leaving. They only opened for one reason after that, and that was to release a few tears to help rinse the blood from his face.
The fan blades swung methodically in the vent above him, a pair of pleased eyes observing the Sniper while a shadowed smirk formed below them.
The plan was working..
