Miss Pauling sat on the edge of her bed, fiddling her hands and staring into space.

She'd gone into her job fully expecting it to be sometimes stressful, though at the time, she had never really known just what she was getting herself into. She thought she'd be doing a bit of admin and some PA work for somebody ominously known as the Administrator, the boss of a company then known as TF Industries. It wasn't until she was forced to take rigorous self-defence lessons and was trained how to use various weapons that she realised maybe there was a little more to the job than she had expected. She hadn't wanted to lie to the eighteen men that she supervised. She hadn't wanted to kill people who knew too much and bury their corpses in hidden caves. She never said no, though, because despite her faults, the Administrator was an incredible person.

Helen was utterly ruthless and so very clever and she was a woman with a lot of influential power over the leaders of the world. How could a simple, young PA like Miss Pauling not look at her and just think – wow? How many bodies did Helen have to bury to get where she was? She'd even had something to do with the military, a long time ago, though she never talked about it. She never talked about anything other than work. Pauling had made up her own theories, and it was only lately that she was beginning to think that the dumb things she had thought of to amuse herself were actually right. Maybe the Administrator really was an evil mastermind hellbent on world domination. She was certainly ensuring that there was going to be nobody in the way to stop her.

There was nobody more loyal to that woman than Pauling. The young assistant had lost her mother very young, and while Helen was by no means a gentle woman capable of nurturing, it had been nice to have that firm, female presence in her life. Even if that presence was, well, fairly mercilessly evil and conniving.

And yet, Miss Pauling had not been able to pull that trigger.

She held up her communication device and selected her boss's name from the list, anxiously swallowing as the dialling symbol appeared on the small screen. She was answered almost immediately and met with the image of the Administrator sat with her legs folded and fingers steepled. She was in the control room, given that the space was just about lit with the light of the various monitors in front of her, one of which Pauling was occupying.

"You have been ignoring my calls," Helen said slowly. For a moment, her gaunt face was illuminated as she struck a match to hold to the cigarette between her lips. "Well? Do you have the boy?"

"Um ..." Pauling managed, biting her lower lip. "Well, no, ma'am. I'm sorry, but they managed to escape. It was a big space and Sniper knew it better than I did, so -"

"Silence."

The boss was one of those people who displayed the worst of her anger through terrible, prolonged silences. They sat gazing at each other for a maximum of thirty seconds, though it felt more like a lifetime to Pauling, who was growing more and more antsy as time went on. She was too good at her job to get the silent treatment! She could count on one hand the amount of times she had made the woman this angry, and they were all when she first started the job and was still learning the ropes. This time, however, she could sense that there was a lot more at stake.

"Nobody escapes you," the Administrator said eventually, and took a long, hard drag from her cigarette, eyes still fixed on the screen. Her tone was cool and calculated, and Pauling knew immediately that she was busted. Not much got past evil geniuses, evidently – or maybe the assistant was just making it too obvious. She straightened her back and altered her expression into something far less guilt-ridden.

"Ma'am, I still think the RED Sniper could be a valuable asset -"

"Oh, so it was that you couldn't kill him! How ... sweet. Might I remind you, girl, that you don't work to make friends. You work to assist me and to clean up the mess that is left behind as a result. I can only assume that you let the both of them go and failed me because something somehow makes them different from all the other men that I have ordered you to kill?"

"They are different!" Pauling said quickly in response, then offered an apologetic look in case she was coming across as argumentative. "Ma'am, they were all picked because they were the best and also the most idiotic out of everyone. That Sniper was … well, he was angry, and I admit he's always had issues with authority, but -"

"I don't want wild wolves, Miss Pauling," the Administrator hissed. She stood up, probably not realising that it caused her head to go out of frame, but she was just as intimidating, regardless. "I want pet dogs. That idiot Australian made a threat against my life when he discovered the Project trials were underway. I thought that alone would earn a quick and efficient kill from you, but clearly I underestimated your incompetence!"

The younger woman also stood, wounded by her superior's harsh words but knowing that she fully deserved them. She began to pace, stroking her chin thoughtfully.

"Then he could be the first to undergo the Repurposing. I know we've had … well, issues with him, but he is the best sniper in the world and I'm certain he can be put to good use -"

"It was the RED Scout who was meant to be the first – who you also allowed to escape, you idiot girl! Where are you, now? Where are those men I gave you?"

"Er, Japan, and those men, well … they're dead. I buried them outside Sniper's house," Miss Pauling said meekly, offering the tiniest of smiles. She'd thought about lying but what was the point? She was likely already dead meat at this point for letting the two mercs go. Still, she couldn't bring herself to entirely regret her decision, even when the Administrator was approaching the screen and the monitors were flushing the shadows away from her withered, bitter expression.

"There's a Contender in Japan. I will send you the details on your device. Contact her and give her the job if you are too soft to do it yourself. Once you have the boy, meet me halfway in Europe. I will call you again the day after tomorrow and we shall discuss further details. I expect good news, Miss Pauling."

The screen on Pauling's device turned black before returning to the home screen. Sure enough, seconds later, it beeped and a message containing contact details for the mysterious woman mentioned came through. A Contender. She had never actually met one of them, before. The Project was so secret that even she wasn't privy to most of the details, and she suspected that Sniper had unwittingly learnt a whole lot more about it the day he had been sent to kill one of them for defecting. The Administrator had - perhaps underestimating the men under her watch - not accounted for that possibility. Whatever Sniper had learnt or done had apparently been the cherry on the cake for him, and he suddenly became far from cooperative.

She paced around her hotel room for some time, trying to calm herself and arrange her conflicted thoughts into some kind of order, but it was difficult. She was meant to trust the Administrator unquestioningly. It had been a mistake, then, to have spent time among the mercenaries, because when she saw bad things happening to them as a result of the company's dubious shenanigans, it often pained her. Bad things happened to them a lot and now everything was approaching a climax that was sure to be devastating for everybody involved if allowed to continue with little obstruction. But it wasn't her job to care.

She grabbed her communication device and stabbed in some numbers with her thumb. When answered, Miss Pauling adopted a deep, cool tone to try and sound important.

"Contender Yona?" she asked, just to make sure.

"Yes."

"I'm Miss Pauling, the Administrator's assistant. She's got a job for you. The RED Sniper and Scout -"

"Kill them. Okay."

"No! I mean – yes, but just the older guy. Keep the kid alive. How do you know …? Actually, uh, never mind that. Call me when it's done?"

The line stayed silent for a moment, then it clicked as the lady on the other end hung up without so much as a farewell. Pauling bristled somewhat. Why was it that these mysterious people that the Administrator suddenly favoured seemed to know far more than her? Was she not trustworthy enough to be spared details about the Project? She could find out more if she wanted to, but she'd need to be on a base to dig into the system files, and she'd need to be more of a nosy person to actually go through with it. Helen trusted her – just apparently not with the sensitive details of whatever she had started dabbling in lately.

Worse than that, she'd just personally ordered an execution and kidnapping. If she hadn't done it, the Administrator would quickly find out and then all hell would break loose. Miss Pauling would be no good to the guys tied up in the back of a van. Despite that, she couldn't just sit back and hope for the best, for though it was her job to be as callous as the woman who oversaw her operations, an enormous part of her didn't want to see any of her guys die. Not again.

She slowly began typing another number into the phone. Holding it up to her ear, she silently prayed for an answer.

"'What the hell do ye want, ya slimy, gibberin' little -" came the heavily accented drawl on the other end.

"Demoman? It's Pauling. I'm sure you're trying to sleep, but this is important."

"Oh, aye, sorry, the Spy keeps callin' me and playin' The Sound of Silence over the phone. I cannae stand it!"

The woman sat back on the edge of her bed and moved her forehead into her hand, closing her eyes in exasperation.

"How're things over there?"

"Oh, only boring as absolute bloody fook. When the hell are the battles gonna start again? I'm not allowed to make me bombs, ma'am, I need t'do somethin' with me hands and I haven't even got the will to pick up a bottle o' scrumpy! Did ya get a hold of Scooty and the beanpole?"

"Demo, I need to ask you a favour. This is really important, okay? Like, really, really important." She paused, biting her lip, and then clenched her fists, wondering what the hell she was doing. Talking about higher-level business with the mercenaries was something that the Administrator had explicitly forbidden her to do. However, like before, Miss Pauling wanted to give Scout and Sniper a window of escape. In the small chance they survived what was coming, they would need all the help they could get trying to avoid being captured again.

"There's something I need to tell you about the people you're working for, and you're not going to like it."

Scout and Sniper sat side by side, cross legged in front of a sleek chabudai, glancing at each other every so often as the lady on the other side used well-practiced, fluid movements to prepare bowls and tea over the small stove built into the floor. Scout, rather enamoured with the geishas he had encountered in the Gion district, allowed himself to be sweetly coerced into buying some sort of service. Seeing as it was still Sniper's birthday and he'd thought the service would involve some sort of dancing and removing of clothes, he'd happily agreed, only to find out later from Sniper that he'd bought a tea ceremony – and that he was, in the Australian's own words, an uncultured rat without an ounce of respect. Well, how the hell was he supposed to know? Obviously he'd caught the wrong end of the stick at some point, and now here they were, watching an elegant young lady make a goopy looking tea from some green powder. Well, it was better than nothing.

Quickly growing bored, Scout glanced around the small room they had been taken to. It was at the back of the larger establishment and shielded from view by some of those cool sliding doors. It was peaceful, warm, and smelt strongly of pleasant, natural scents, eliciting a sleepy atmosphere that had his head dropping on occasion. Everywhere he looked, there was some kind of decoration: scrolls, flowers, paintings. Below two crossed, enormous naginata was an old painting of somebody who looked like a warrior, small and lithe in form.

"Hey, uh ..." he began, leaning forwards a little to try and catch the geisha's attention. "So is this your tea room?"

"It is used by many of us," the lady said with a small smile. Her countenance was extremely pleasant, daubed with white and red makeup, and her elaborate headpiece allowed a cascade of pink petals to frame her face. "Have you been to Gion before?"

"Nah. It's been good, though. We went to, uh, Kodi-jai Temple -"

"Oh," the geisha said suddenly, and then she laughed lightly. "Kodai-ji Temple. Yes, lovely."

Scout felt himself flushing a hot and vibrant red when he was corrected. Reaching down, he subtly pinched Sniper's thigh when he heard him fail to withhold a snort. Feeling a revenge-jab in his side, he thumped the other man's leg with his fist, all the while attempting to maintain polite eye-contact with their hostess.

"Yeah, yeah, it was real pretty, though everythin' got a whole lot prettier when we ventured into Gion. Y'know, just thought I'd treat my pal seein' as it's his birthday today, I mean, I'm a rich-as-hell businessman and he's the guy who cleans the toilets in my office building. Gotta get outta those cubicles every once in a while, right, bud?" Scout dropped a hand down on Sniper's shoulder. The older man did not look impressed.

The geisha laughed demurely, continuing on with what she was doing, though she chanced a glance at the assassin.

"I am not sure about that. You have lived your life in the sunlight. I can tell." After pouring two bowls of the soupy tea, she placed them down and then put one of her small hands on top of Sniper's, moving her fingers as if she was feeling the skin there. "You do not have the hands of a man who cleans for a living."

It was Sniper's turn to flush, though he did it rather more inconspicuously, fortunate in that only his neck and ears were usually affected. However, he didn't resort to his usual trick of looking away and forcing a stony expression, and instead moved his hand away and fixed the lady with an odd stare.

"Er, yeah. Yeah, that's right, I look after his garden, too. Gets hot in the States. Isn't that right, Mister Boghead?"

Scout briefly narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Yeah. Real hot." He then subtly jerked his head towards the woman, trying to indicate that he'd found her first and even if it was hard to tell how old she was beneath her make-up, he hadn't spoken to an attractive girl like her in what felt like years. Sniper, however, wasn't looking at him, still gazing at the elegant lady as if trying to read her thoughts, and Scout noted the sudden rise of tension in the air. He was almost tempted to tell them to get a room, but his friend's behaviour was making him curious enough that he managed not to say anything.

"You speak real good English," Sniper remarked.

"I studied in London," the geisha answered, and then she gestured towards the two bowls of tea. "You should drink."

"Waitin' for it to cool," the assassin said quickly, chancing a glance in Scout's direction before turning back. "Besides, we didn't come for the tea." Reaching forwards, he awkwardly slid his hand over hers and turned it over to look at her palm. "Beg ya pardon if it sounds rude, but you ain't got the hands of somebody who makes tea for a livin'."

Sure enough, the lady's small hands were dotted with blisters and the pads of her fingers seemed hardened with callouses. Scout could see them from where he was sat. Still, he managed to make no effort to speak or even move, wondering what the hell his companion was doing. Was this what it looked like when Australians flirted with people? Was there even such a concept? Saxton Hale's boisterous and violent character had since convinced him that Australia was a land of bridal kidnapping.

"I play the shamisen. Badly, I admit, but ..." the geisha murmured with a slight smile. There was a hardness to her eyes, now, a determination that could have been easily mistaken for something close to attraction. The longer the two interacted, the more it was slowly becoming apparent to the younger observer that there was something more to the way they were looking at each other, something unspoken in the atmosphere that made him feel thoroughly uncomfortable.

To Scout's surprise, Sniper fixed the woman with a warm stare and slowly raised her hand to his face to gingerly inspect it. He said nothing, taking a moment to apparently inhale the perfume on her wrist. The lady watched with wide eyes and was eventually able to retrieve her hand, holding it firmly in her lap as she bowed, red lips pressed firmly shut.

Scout picked his bowl up and moved it to his mouth to try and dissipate some of the awkwardness, but he was quickly halted as Sniper suddenly grabbed his arm and forced it downwards. The boy chose not to argue, however, as it was becoming more and more clear that his friend was up to something. After all, it wasn't like him to attempt to flirt with girls, and what Scout had thought had been an inviting expression was something clearly feigned. That slight sizzling that had occurred for a short moment between the pair perhaps was not attraction but something else entirely. He knew the guy well enough to know when he was being genuine or not. As for the geisha, that sweet and pleasant demeanour was suddenly replaced with something almost accusatory, her fingers twitching as she stared at Sniper.

"You've got the hands of a lady who's just started usin' a knife for a living," the assassin said. It almost sounded like he was commending her, but behind that façade was straight up venom. "Lemon peel is good for callouses, y'know, and it would also help hide the smell of hemlock on your hands. Is this your first time?"

The tension in the air was suddenly palpable as the geisha narrowed her eyes and scowled. Scout stared in surprise, typically oblivious.

"That was fast," the woman said, reluctantly inclining her head.

"I know Spies pretty well. It's a shame you don't know your Snipers. Well, luckily for you, I'm the best there is. Want me to show ya a thing or two?"

A Spy? Scout had the sudden thought that the woman in front of him was actually a dude wearing one of those masks that shrouded the entire body in illusion, and then he had the second, more gut-crunching thought that she was actually the BLU Spy in disguise, sent by the Administrator to do what the guys in Australia had failed to achieve. He gathered from their conversation, however, that this person was something of a newbie, meaning she couldn't be either of the Spies from RED or BLU, unless Sniper was trying to goad them. Whatever the case was, the boy put down his bowl of tea and remained on edge, unsure what to do or even what to make of the situation. Everything he had witnessed minutes before suddenly made sense – the tension, Sniper's predatory behaviour, and the fact it had taken the guy all of about five minutes to sniff out a Spy. Literally. Scout had no idea what hemlock was but he didn't doubt that he'd be writhing on the floor by this point if he had decided to drink any of the 'tea' the lady had kindly made.

The geisha reached up to her hair and unpinned it, allowing the dark tresses to tumble over her shoulders. She then stood, not much taller than Miss Pauling, and took a silent step backwards towards the wall, taking hold of one of the naginata. The pole was old and made out of carved wood. The blade was half the size but still huge. Scout quickly grabbed Sniper's shoulder and tried to urge him upwards.

"Dude, she's a freakin' samurai! We've gotta go!"

"You don't know what a geisha is but you know about bloody samurai?" Sniper muttered incredulously, slowly standing and using an arm to hold the younger man behind him.

The woman had unhooked the weapon from the wall and was slowly approaching the pair with slow, calculated steps. Her bare feet likely provided an advantage, but Scout could see the restrictive and heavy nature of her decorative attire did not. Her black kimono was fitted closely to her thighs and her thick obi was gathered at her back in a way sure to offset her balance at some point. Still, he was currently stuck, for if he made any sudden movements then she would respond with a lunge and swing of her naginata. He didn't exactly fancy being cut clean in half.

"C'mon, lady. It's his birthday! Cut us some slack, will ya?" he insisted from behind Sniper's arm. Holding onto the taller man's waist, he attempted to slowly pull him backwards. "We just wanna holiday without gettin' treated like freakin' target dummies all the time!"

"Well, you should have thought of that before you became defectors!" the woman suddenly shouted, her malicious grin a stark change to the small, sweet smiles from before. Oh, yeah, she was a Spy all right. She swung her weapon with lightning speed and it was by the skin of their teeth that the two men managed to duck and avoid it, though Scout was fairly certain she had just lopped off a chunk of his neatly groomed hair. "I thought you idiots would be dispatched easily. Now I can see why you became the mercenaries. Still, there is nothing like putting a man in an early grave."

Scout knew he had no time to consider what the hell the samurai-geisha-lady was talking about. Instead, he felt around Sniper's waist to try and find any possible weapons concealed in his belt, but he didn't even find the guy's trademark kukri.

"I'm a professional, mate. I ain't gonna bring a gun to a place with ladies!" Sniper insisted, backing away from a second attack. This resulted in the two men becoming pinned against the wall, but the assassin reached behind him and grabbed a pair of enormous fans that had previously performed as decoration. It took him a moment to figure them out, but when a third swing came their way, he managed to halt it by catching it between the fans and forcing the naginata away firmly enough that the geisha stumbled on the bottom of her kimono. Sniper looked down at his new weapons as if he hadn't actually expected the trick to work.

Taking the moment of distraction as an opportunity, Scout dashed towards the other side of the room and grabbed the second spear off the wall. It was way heavier than it looked and so his first attempt at striking the woman was poorly aimed, resulting in her gracefully leaping over the blade with ease. What he did succeed in, apparently, was angering her enough that she immediately headed straight for him before he could even lift his weapon again.

"No you fucking don't," Sniper snarled. He appeared behind the geisha in the nick of time and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. However, the woman immediately threw her upper half downwards, and in an amazing show of strength, hauled her much taller opponent's bulk straight over her head and slammed him down onto the chabudai hard enough to break it. With a peal of laughter, she kicked the pot of boiling water from the stove and over Sniper's arm.

His friend's rough howl of pain immediately sent Scout into overdrive. His weapon suddenly wasn't so heavy and his desire not to harm her because she was a lady swiftly vanished. Using his speed to his advantage, he charged and smashed the butt-end of his spear into her gut and sent her flying to the wooden floor, but like some kind of cat, she landed on all fours and propelled herself into another lunge, this time without her weapon.

Scout backed away, but had little need. A closed fan soared through the air and the handle impacted the woman's temple with a hard, painful thunk. She stopped, went cross-eyed, then crumpled down onto her front without so much as a sigh.

The boy stood shock still for a moment with his naginata held closely to his chest. Tentatively, he reached down with the pole and nudged the woman's arm, but she didn't respond.

"Shit, man. Is she dead?" he whispered, unable to move.

Sniper dragged himself over and checked her wrist for a pulse. "Nah. She'll be right." He rolled onto his back and grimaced, arm held tightly to his chest. "Bloody Spies."

After pulling over a rug and arranging it beneath the woman's head in perhaps a misguided attempt to make her more comfortable, Scout grabbed onto Sniper's good arm and attempted to pull him upright. The assassin was rather stiff thanks to his heavy landing, but he didn't object as he was quickly led over to one of the sliding doors. Scout opened it a little way and leaned out into the corridor, making sure that nobody was looking, then gestured towards the open window opposite.

"We've gotta make a run for it. You ready?"

Without waiting for a response, the younger man dashed to the window and vaulted silently out of it, landing easily on the grass outside. Sniper's escape wasn't quite so graceful, though still admirably quick – he was probably used to clambering around in tight spaces to get to the hidden spots best for sniping in. Once they were both out of the building, Scout led them around the back, through some small trees, and then into the streets of Gion. It was nighttime and, thankfully, very busy, so it was easy to get lost in the crowds of wealthy patrons flocking to the establishments and restaurants.

He stopped running around then to avoid looking suspicious. Awkwardly trying to dodge people in the narrow, bustling street, he pulled up to an open unit outside of a restaurant and quickly ordered something to take away. No doubt they wouldn't be able to stay in Gion that night, and they'd need some food to keep them going as the travelled through the night. Waiting impatiently for their food to arrive, Scout turned to Sniper, who was leaning against the wall to one side quietly. His forearm was the colour of a tomato from where it had been scalded by the supposed Spy. Worse, blood had drained from his face to leave him white as a sheet, and the younger man could tell that he was doing his best to stop himself from keeling over.

"Hey, the hotel's like five minutes away. You gonna make it?" he asked encouragingly. His heart began beating furiously in his chest, both out of fear they would get caught by more Spies and because his friend was suddenly taking a downward turn. When Sniper didn't respond, Scout's face fell in concern. "Dude, what's wrong? Did she do somethin' to ya?"

It took a moment, but Sniper managed to steady himself. With a despondent glance towards Scout, he pushed himself away from the wall and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.

"I'll make a head start. See ya there."

Reluctantly allowing the guy to shamble away, Scout turned and waited impatiently for the food to turn up, rapping his fingers on the side of the counter as he watched the chefs at work. It looked like they really weren't going to get the chance to enjoy themselves anymore, as the Administrator's people had finally locked onto them and were mercilessly pursuing them wherever they went. He was deeply confused by the idea of other Spies outside of RED and BLU, most of all, having formerly only been aware of the two French chain-smokers he used to encounter on a daily basis. Were there other Scouts, too? Why had they bothered saving his life before if there were others who could easily replace him? Or were these mysterious mercenaries meant for other purposes? The worst part was that he knew the answers were being kept from him. There was a lot being kept from him. Who the hell was he meant to trust when just about anybody could be a rogue mercenary sent to kidnap him?

Two bags of food were eventually plopped down on the unit. Grabbing them, Scout made off towards the swanky hotel they had booked for a night, though he didn't succumb to the temptation to run. Sniper obviously needed space for whatever reason, as he often did, so when the boy reached the square outside of the hotel, he sat on a bench and devoured the noodles and pork balls he had bought, watching everybody who passed warily. By the end, he felt pretty sick due to nerves and sat back for a while, growing increasingly angry because there was no way he should have been putting up with all the shit going on. Sniper was more than aware of that, he knew, but he still didn't have the decency to tell Scout just why they had almost been simultaneously poisoned and turned into kebabs by a geisha, of all things. Maybe some guys would pay for that kind of stuff, but Scout couldn't even stand the thought of kebabs. Tacos were where it was at.

Quickly coming to hate the feeling of being alone, Scout stood and found the nearest bin to put his rubbish into. On the way, a small lady who was obviously not paying attention to her surroundings bumped into his shoulder. She quickly apologised and scooted past him, and it took him a moment to put a name to that voice.

"Miss Paulin'?" he said quickly, retracing his steps. Sure enough, the woman was wearing a purple shirt and skirt, black tights, and her dark hair was pinned into a bun. She turned and an expression of sudden alarm crossed her pointed face. He felt a remarkable amount of joy upon recognising her – then confusion, then a dire realisation, because there was probably only one reason why she was in Kyoto at exactly the same time as them. Cautious, Scout didn't attempt to impress her with the size of his biceps, nor even make any sort of move to greet her.

"Scout? I was just making sure … I'm -" Miss Pauling tugged on her collar and backed away a little. "Look, pretend you didn't see me here, okay? How's, er … How's Sniper?"

"Getting worse," the man responded, and there was a sharp, captious tone to his voice. "Yeah. Also, he just sniffed out a Spy that convinced us to go into her tea room. Kinda weird there's Spies out here, right?"

"He told you?" the assistant asked quickly. "We were going to get your permission before we did anything to you, you know -"

"Wait, what?"

The woman, apparently realising she had just made a mistake, quickly pulled what looked like a watch out of her pocket. It was similar in design to the Spy's cloaking device. Desperate not to let her get away without giving him more information, Scout darted forwards and tried to land a hand on her shoulder, but she took another step away and then vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Miss Paulin', please," he begged, uselessly swiping at the air for a moment. "Please, I dunno what's goin' on or what to do!"

There was silence for a moment, and then, "You're not alone, Scout."