"Ok, zo. We will go into zhis shaft; zhere were ladders when I went zhrough zhere. I can tie zhat Spy poulpe onto my back, Madeline, jou will 'ave to keep 'im calm if or when 'e wakes up." Spy continued going over the escape plan.
"Roight, let's get started, then, yeah?" Sniper grinned. But, as the trio began to move Rousseau, grumbling in his dazed state, explosions overhead sent fire, metal, and oil to rain onto them.
"Graww, great!" Sniper groaned. A few steps trying to put out the fire on the oil droplets scattered on the floor only left him with a singed sole of his boot. "This shit isn't gonna be goin' out any time soon, we need ta' go now!"
"The grate will not open!" Spy groaned as he fiddled with tiny tools, not a single one working to unlock their exit. Sniper power-walked over, and gaining speed, he lifted a boot and CRACK! the grate was bent inwards. Backing up, he repeated his steps, and the grate dissapeared in the shaft, banging against all the metal sides. With the last knot done, Spy crawled in first, followed by Madeline.
"Get goin', I'll keep the drunkard busy." Sniper said.
"Convict, zat was not in ze plan!" Spy said, voice distorted from the echoing.
"Ya can try an' get 'im from behind or something, you're good at that, eh Spy?" Sniper grinned, kneeling at the entrance and peeking up. "Don' worry 'bout me, awroight?"
"...If you say so, Sniper." Madeline said, slowly, followed by her tapping on Spy's back. "Let's go, Spy."
The ambient sound of the quiet operating room was broken by the sound of metal clinking against metal. A man with a german voice muttered to himself, in a positive manner, as he selected his tools.
He couldn't think. He was supposed to be unconscious? He couldn't feel pain, but the pressure of the scalpel to the skin around his waist was real.
"I do not want...I do not want to...! Let me go docteur! " The sensation of pressure from the scalpel without the pain, he felt his heart race. "Zhis is, is wrong! Je veux rester normale..!"
It began to feel as if days passed, the patient couldn't tell a minute from five. He wanted to flinch as he felt fingers prodding inside of him. "Non, non, jou do not need jour fingers in there..!"
He wanted to sigh from relief as he felt the prodding gloved fingers leave his body. His relief was cut short, his doctor's voice spoke again, but only to himself.
"Let's see, zhis one vill vork." Metal scraped against metal as the tool was pulled from wherever he kept it. He felt something sharp poke into his flesh, retreating to get a direct route into his surgically-made opening. He felt whatever was pushed into him spread out. "Ach, zhis better be a clean cut. Zhe muscle needs to go, first."
With some time effort, he could tell the doctor cut through the muscle, he was being careful? And then, a sickening crack!, his mind raced faster, catching up in speed with his heart.
"My leg," he repeated in his mind, over and over. "My leg, my leg, ma jambe, ma jambe...! He is cutting off my leg, de l'intérieur à l'extérieur..!" He could hear the sounds repeat, feeling the same tools cut in the same fashion to his other leg.
"Und now, zhe attachment," The doctor chuckled, nervously. "After zhis part, not many men lived long. I hope you vill be different, Rousseau Dubois."
"How much farther?" Madeline coughed. They made it to the vents that were still left overhead the room they departed, and the oil fires sent smoke upwards into their vents.
"Eh, 'ow should I know, I did not ever get zee maps for zis place! Do not worry, ma petite, I will find a way."
"Rousseau's not being scrapped against the wall of the vent is he?" She asked. Madeline could hardly tell from such little lighting.
"Non, he iz fine." Spy replied. After climbing several more minutes, Spy stopped. "It is ze door! Madeline, we can get out of 'ere in jus' a minute." He began to fiddle with the openings' grate.
"Spy, did you start all of this?" Madeline asked, before coughing again from the smoke. "The, the boss said this was underground, the...tentaspies."
"I only stayed in BLU zo long, because of zis "project" of 'ers'." He said, before clearing his throat. "I joined for money; all ze money she 'as will not return zose spies, zose men I knew, back to ze way they were."
"You...knew alot of the men put through this?" Madeline was shocked. There were RED and BLU spies put through this.
"Every. Zingle. One. REDs and ze BLUs. Dieu nom de Dieu, I even knew Rousseau personally, a decade ago."
"Madeline..?" Rousseau mumbled. He began moving his arms, and began to panic. Madeline gripped one of his tentacles, cool and drying.
"Rousseau, stay calm. If you don't stay calm, we will all die." She said, keeping her voice clear. "It'll all be okay, if you just stay. Calm."
"...Bon, Madeline." He said. Listening to his breathing, she could tell he was still slightly panicked.
And with a sudden crash that echoed in the hallway below them, they had their exit.
"It iz too small to go with zis octopus-man on my back." Spy grumbled, untying the knots on his torso, and Rousseau slipped like a ragdoll off him.
"Rousseau?" Madeline patted his cheek, only to get grumbling.
"It iz okay, ma belle, 'e will fade in an' out of consciousness." Spy said. "Zey used zomething...I cannot think of ze english word, but let us 'ope it was not zo strong." He slipped himself feet-first through the opening. "Madeline, push 'im down to me, quick."
Madeline fed his tentacles through the hole, before lowering him. "Grab him, grab him, he's too heavy!" Spy wrapped his arms around Rousseau's torso, and once Madeline had let go, and he sat unconscious Rousseau on the ground, he held arms out to help her the same way. Spy grabbed her around her waist as she dangled, lowering her to the floor.
Unlike with Rousseau, he hugged her tightly, gloved fingers in the length of her hair. "Let us go." Spy let her go, and grabbed the fading-into-consciousness Spy, and Madeline opened the door. He rushed out first, and she stood in the doorway. "...Madeline?"
"Sniper's still in th-" an explosion was heard from inside the building. She stared as smoke poured from doors and vents, papers bits on fire burning in the air like fireflies.
"Madeline...Madeline, ze Sniper can 'andle 'imself. Come." Spy held out a hand as she looked from him to the inside of the building. "Remember what 'e said? 'E wants jou to live."
Madeline slammed the BLU door shut, and walked to Spy. He kissed her temple before walking her to the car, and opening the back door to a sleek black car, laying Rousseau inside on the seat, and taking care to make sure no tentacle would be crushed by the door before closing it.
"...Is this your car?" She asked. Madeline couldn't help but notice it was in perfect condition, a model almost too beautiful to drive.
"But of course; I did not walk 'ere, jou know." He laughed. The man cleared his voice, and hopped into the driver's seat, while Madeline took the passengers seat. "An' now, we're off; To France!"