She groaned. Madeline forced her eyes open, and proceded to stretch her stiff arms and back. "What happened? Did we win?"

"Ja, no thanks to you." Medic said, in a stern tone. "You moved zhe injured Demoman to me, und zhen you let zheir RED Medic get zhe better of you. Zhe RED team medic had adreneline in her syringes, you are lucky you were barely punctured." He rubbed his temples. "If she got even one-fourth of zhat dose in you, your heart vould have exploded."

"Don't take 'im too hard, miss." Sniper said, appearing on her left. "That lady medic they got is one nasty piece o' work, we're happy you're alive. Last one she got ahold of didn't make it."

Madeline felt her hands shake. It was her first battle, sure enough. "Her... her eyes," She whispered.

"Yeah, loik a wild animal, roight?" Sniper said, pulling out a mug and drinking deep from it. "Best be careful o' that. She ain't afraid to rip all ya' organs out. If she wants ya' dead, she's makin' sure ya' have a closed casket funeral, if you're lucky enough that she leaves any of ya'."

"...Right. Well, I need to get back to my room, I'm not finished sorting out papers." She pulled herself from the bed.

"Ah, make sure you give zhe proper materials to zhe proper people." Medic said, as she exited the doors.

She closed her bedroom door behind her, and pulled up a floorboard, and reached in with a blue gloved hand to pull out papers.

"Ah, still here." She smiled, and put them on her desk so she could replace the board. When done, she sat down, and got to work. "Lets see, that's a basic sentry design, a copy of how teleporters work..." She sifted through the technological blueprints.

But quickly, things went from mechanical to biological.

"This is stuff I'd give to Medic..." She said. "That's strange...experiments? Drug testing, I'm sure." She thought it through. Drugs to help build muscle mass, improve metabolism, maybe. But as she opened the manila folders, and sifted through the interior files and photos, she found it to be something much worse.

"T-the men... these photos..." She closed the folder, gathering any with a similar tab and titled "Experiment" compiled with it, and slipped them between two books on her bookshelf.

She thought out who she should talk to first. Clearly in the photos there were medics involved, but it couldn't be the current Medic could it? Sure, he was one of the oldest people on BLU but these were really old photographs. She thought out it might be best to talk to the classes in the picture, but she couldn't tell who was what. Madeline could hardly bring herself to glance at the pictures again.

She decided she would talk to one who loves information; The Spy.

Madeline caught him on his smoke break with the Sniper, both wearing scarves and standing right outside the wooden door. "Spy? I need to speak to you. Privately." The two looked at her, and Sniper offered to hold his teammates cigarrete, only to see him flick it out into the snow.

"Non. Jou will not be smoking any of mine." He said clearly, as he followed Madeline inside. "Now, what did jou need from moi?"

"I was sorting through the files," She started. "The Engineer has his blueprints, the Medic has the enemy profiles."

"So? Ees this a waste of my time?" Spy said, impatiently. "I 'ave no business with blueprints and medical information."

"Well, that's the thing, I found medical photos. Of the BLU team." She explained further. "And they're not pretty."

"Wait, BLU team photos in the papers we took from RED?" He was surprised. "Zhat is quite stupid. Both sides keep zhat information seperate. What are ze photos of?"

"BLU members," She took a deep breath. "Horribly mutilated from the waist down." Both grew quiet, but the Spy regained his posture.

"I am sure eet was just zome past members who 'ad their legs blown off, Madeline." He said. Madeline pulled out a worn-out photograph, folded in half, and handed it to him. He opened it, only to quickly close it, and hand it back to her. He fixed his tie, brushed wrnkles from his coat, and walked past her.

She whipped around. "Spy! Do you know anything about this?" And with no reply, she opened the photo. It was a man chained to a medical cot, several tubes in his neck and arms. The matress under him was soaked with blood, along with the neatly wrapped bandages around his waist. He looked like he was unconscious, or asleep. A Medic was standing next to the cot when this photo was taken.

"Stage one..." Madeline whispered, reading the bottom right corner, 'Stage One' was written in thin black ink. She retreated to her room, and pulled the yellow file out from between the books, the one that contained the 'Stage One' photo.

She thought the first photo was bad. They quickly grew worse over very few photos. The file labled 'RzUYW3ZWs' drew her in the most. Compared to the few other files, 'RzUYW3ZWs' lived the longest. She could barely read the handwritten notes, but going by photos, only this one made it past 'Stage Two'. He had made it to, what she made out to be, 'Stage Six."

She flipped through pages kept together via paperclips. "Hm, RzUYW3ZWs, does it mean anything?" She sighed. "It has to. Nobody just writes nonsense on this this type of thing."

Days went by, and Madeline became more roped into reading the files she found. No one lived past 'Stage Two' except RzUYW3ZWs. She sat at the table, munching on toast as she read intently.

"Madeline?" the Scout waved his hand near her face. "Hey. Are ya' fuckin' braindead or something? Hey!" She looked up at him.

"Do you need something?" She said, agitated.

"You looked all dazed and shit, whatcha readin'?" He asked, leaning towards to folders.

"About a Spy, that used to be here. At least, I think he was here before," she explained. When Scout asked if he was reloacted, she just told him him that she suspected he died here in Viaduct.

"Damn, he's dead?" he asked. Madeline reminded him it was probable. "I'm hopin' no more BLUs here die, sure we gots two docta's an' all but thinkin' you guys will always be in time is stupid-thinkin'."

"Well, we try," Madeline smiled. "Both of us, we always try to help everyone in time." She stretched. "I've had my nose in those files for days, what's up with you and everyone else?"

"Uh? Well, Sniper got some mail from his Ma." He went on to explain that Sniper recieved a new scarf for his birthday, handmade by his mother, along with a letter asking when she would have any grandchildren. Madeline covered her mouth and snickered. "Poor ol' lady, dunno if ya know, Sniper was an only kid, and he don't plan on ever havin' any."

"What, you say that like you have kids, Scout," Madeline said. "Don't tell me you have any!"

"Pfft, nah, I got a few nephews though. I gots older brothas ya' know." He reminded her. "I doubt anyone here has any kids, an' if they do, I sure feel bad for 'em. Everyone here is nuts, ya know?"

"I'm sure anyone here could be a good father." Madeline said, in a semi-serious tone, and straightened herself in her chair. Scout cocked an eybrow. "...Okay, Soldier should never ever have children-he'd beat them half to death, then strangle them the rest of the way."

Madeline eventually closed the folder on the table, and the two talked for a long while longer till Madeline cracked first, and went to her room.

"Donc. Savez-vous quelque chose à ce sujet?"

"Non, désolé. Permettez-moi de convocation de Miguel. Il pourrait le faire savoir."

"Ah, Merci."

Madeline heard knocking at the door. Peeking out the tiny window, it was still dark out, nowhere near time to wake up. She ignored it, and pulled covers over her shoulder.

"Madame, wake up."

Her eyes shot open, and she wrapped her blanket around her. "Spy! Don't barge in my room like this! Jesus Christ!"

"Ah, I am sorry." He said. "I just wanted to let you know, I am gathering information for you."

"Informa- wait, wha?" She rubbed her eyes.

"Information," he repeated. "About your dead Spy. Ze title is encrypted, it is being worked on at zis very moment. I 'ave acquaintances wokring on all of ze information, to be compiled for jou, mademoiselle."

"How did you get the information to send out to your 'acquaintances'?" She yawned, before glaring at him. He dropped the file in her lap. "...How did you even get ahold of it?"

"You are not very good at 'iding such things, mademoiselle." He chuckled. She could smell he recently had a cigarrete. He even bothered to help, when he left her without answers before. "You 'aven't taken your nose out of those folders in days. You want to know what 'appened? You want ze answers? Cheri, I shall get ze answers, just for you."

She sat still, eyes wide and feeling bewildered as he let the back of his hand brush her thigh, as he grabbed the folder and kissed her on the cheek.

"Go back to sleep, petite cho-fleur." He said, and then he shut the door.

She slipped back under the covers. "Couldn't he just tell me this when I woke up?" she mused.