HitSpy: Absolution

Act 3, Scene 1

HitSpy was already walking under his own power by the time they reached the Red base. He had always been one to heal quickly, and he wasn't going to stop being himself just because he nearly died for the thousandth time. True, there was no more respawn, but he couldn't remember a time when that had stopped him before.

In the full light of the midday sun, the Red base looked more like a fortress than a Forward Operating Base. High walls, manned turrets, and heavy artillery gave the base a look like it would stand for a while, even though most FOB's were designed to be mobile. This one, clearly, was here to stay, or, at least, to stand its ground.

When they got to the outside of the walls, two soldiers pointed AK-47's down at them from above the huge doors.

"Password", one of them shouted, more like a statement than a question.

"Roadblock", Sergeant Major Wilfred shouted back without a second of hesitation.

The two soldiers looked at each other, and nodded. One of them turned and walked over to a large computer terminal and began typing in commands, while the other began talking to the Sergeant Major, AK still pointed at him.

"Who's that you got with ya?"

"Would you believe", the Sergeant Major responded, "the original Scout and Spy?"

"Not for a second", the soldier above the wall responded. "But let's say, for the sake of conversation, that I did. Where'd you find them?"

"Near a destroyed tank", the Sergeant Major replied, "on the outskirts of Broken Arrow, about to be shot down by a group of clones."

"Interesting. The door's about to open; you know the drill, Sergeant Major."

Sergeant Major Wilson turned to HitSpy and Scout, and said to them, "If you have any heat on you, put it on the ground, now."

He then turned to the rest of his team, and said, "Weapons down, boys; we're almost home."

Right then, the door began to slowly pull apart, revealing a squad of Red-clad soldiers armed with rifles. Wilfred's soldiers held up the guns that they had in their hands, and placed them down onto the ground. They slowly backed up, with their hands above their heads. HitSpy did the same; Scout, however, threw his SMG onto the ground, and stood there, arms folded across his chest, mumbling, "C'mon, c'mon", as if willing the door to pull apart faster.

The Red soldiers at the door pointed their rifles at the team, and quickly walked over to them, picking up their guns from off the ground, and leading them, at gunpoint, inside the base.

"Mon Dieu", was all HitSpy could say when he saw the interior.

The inside of the Red base looked more like a small village; houses made of sheet metal, a market, foot traffic, horses, mules, and wells all around. Civilians mingled freely with Red soldiers, and armed guards freely spoke with anyone who came across them. In the distance, above the sheet metal houses, a barracks could be seen three stories high next to a helicopter landing pad, a radio tower, an armory, training grounds, and a massive hospital. HitSpy caught a brief glimpse of a church steeple, made from an actual church. This base went on for MILES, harboring anyone who disagreed with the Blu occupation.

And this was only a Forward Operating Base.

"Now we're home", Sergeant Major Wilfred said.

…

After a brief search and background check, HitSpy had been led to the hospital, in order to treat his wounds properly. HitSpy hadn't protested; he knew that his wounds would take more than bandages and time, and he wouldn't be taking any chances. Red needed him at full strength, and that was final.

As he was led into the hospital, he took a quick look around at the wounded. Some of them were sick citizens of the base, but many were Red soldiers who were wounded in combat. They limped from here to there, were carried from here to there, or didn't move at all. Sanitation crews were working overtime to clean up all of the blood on the floor and walls.

Some were missing arms, some were missing legs, but some were missing their minds. HitSpy walked over to one soldier who was sitting on a bench, mumbling to himself. The soldier rocked back and forth, and occasionally would swat at the air with his arms.

"I-I can't… I can't", the soldier mumbled, "I can't reach… I can't reach … h-he… he's… going to…"

The soldier suddenly screamed, and swatted at the air. HitSpy took a step back in reverence, bowing his head. He turned and walked back over to the nurse who was escorting him, allowing him to lead him to his room.

HitSpy had never had to witness the cost of war. All of his comrades had been prepared for what they would witness, and not afraid of death in any form. If any of them were wounded beyond repair, they could always just shoot themselves and respawn. It didn't work like that here.

Every single man, woman, and child was a victim of this horrible war. To be honest, he, and probably everyone else, had no idea how it even started. Perhaps Blutarch got greedy, and decided to take the gravel pits by force. Maybe the Announcer had something to do with it, or perhaps there was an outside entity who was truly controlling everything. Maybe there was no reason at all, and it was just a huge social experiment. Perhaps the entire thing was just one big prank.

HitSpy humored that thought for a little bit more as he was shown his room. He had a roommate, an African American chap who's arms were covered in bandages, but it was, ultimately, a hospital room.

"We have yet to fill this room to capacity", the nurse said nonchalantly.

He was led to his bed, and told to lie down.

Naturally, he did so with little argument. He sat on the bed, and with a grunt, laid flat on his back. The nurse, after telling HitSpy not to go anywhere or do anything, left the room.

HitSpy didn't like doing nothing, but he knew why he was here and what it meant. He decided to occupy himself with talking to his roommate. He turned his head to look at him, and found that the other soldier was already examining him.

"What happened to you", HitSpy asked.

"Grenade backfired", his roommate replied.

"I see."

"What happened to you?"

"I've been shot a few times", HitSpy replied.

"Nice."

"Indeed. I didn't even feel half of the bullets that went through me; it was the ones that stayed that got my attention."

"That's how it works for most guys. What's your name?"

"HitSpy."

"What is that, a nickname?"

"The last name."

"Huh. I'm Jenkins, first name Marcus, but please, think of me as Jenkins."

"A pleasure. I would shake your hand, but-"

"Yeah, not a good idea. They've got shrapnel in 'em. So, what did you do before this?"

"Get shot a lot more."

That got a chuckle from Jenkins.

"A soldier, then?"

"A spy."

"When spies get shot, they usually don't survive."

"I was a different kind of spy."

"Huh. So, what are you doing here, Mr. HitSpy?"

"To be honest, Mr. Jenkins, I don't know. There are a lot of things I'm beginning to regret, and a lot of things I'm not quite sure I understand. And to tell you the truth, I have no idea where I'm going, or even what to do from this point."

HitSpy's words surprised even himself. Until now, he hadn't even considered the fact that he was just blindly going to wherever seemed best. He honestly had no idea how he was going to make it, and he suddenly doubted his own skill.

HitSpy continued, "I just… I dragged Scout into this, and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa", Jenkins interrupted, "did you say Scout? Like, the ORIGINAL Scout?"

"Yes."

"Man, I know someone who would be just honored to see him. But how do you know Scout?"

"Do you remember Spy?"

"No", Jenkins said in disbelief.

"Yes."

"Holy crap, THE Red Spy?!"

"Yes."

"Wow, I… I'm honored! THE Red Spy…"

Right then, the nurse walked back in.

"Alright, Spy", he said to HitSpy, "time to get those bullets out of you."

"Merde", HitSpy mumbled. He knew the importance of this, but he still hated being put under. The nurse wheeled his gurney out of the room, and wheeled him to an operating room.

"This room just opened up", the nurse told him, "and the General specifically requested that you go next."

"The General", HitSpy asked, curious as to who this man was.

"Dell Conagher", the nurse replied, "we sent him a radio hail saying that you had arrived, and he asked that you be treated as soon as possible."

"Why, do you think, that is?"

"Perhaps he's impartial to you because of your history together. Perhaps he's on his way to visit you. I really don't know."

"How do surgeries work around here?"

"The old fashioned way. The General Surgeon, Herr Medic, has yet to successfully replicate his healing technology, so we have to rely on what we have. The really bad cases usually get carted off to him, but most die before they can reach him."

"That is unfortunate."

"You're telling me", the nurse said, as he stopped the gurney in front of a door. The nurse walked over to it, and wasted no time in opening it. He grabbed the gurney by the back end, and wheeled it into the room. He was wheeled over to a table covered in cloth.

"Put him on the operating table", a doctor said from the back of the room, "and for God's sake, get these dirty rags to a washing unit! It's like the Civil War all over again…"

The nurse did as he was told, and pulled HitSpy onto the operating table. He rolled the gurney from the operating table, and moved it into a corner in the room. He then took a basket of blood-soaked cloth, and walked out with it. The doctor put on some gloves, and pulled on a filtered mask, and took a can of general anesthesia, and connected a face mask to it. He walked over to HitSpy, and placed it over his mouth.

"Now", the doctor began, "take a deep breath in, and count backwards from ten."

HitSpy did as he was told, taking a deep breath in.

"!0… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4…"

…

Scout walked around the massive base, intrigued by what he saw. The market was full of fresh meats, wonderful fruits, and exquisite items recovered from the war zone. People rode on horses right in the middle of the street, most of whom were armed guards, but a few pedestrians occasionally demonstrated their skill with the reigns, and there was even a town square, filled with restaurants and even a Town Hall. The base itself stretched on for miles, but most of it was dedicated to civilians, while along the outer edges and in the middle, military structures stood.

Scout had never been one to admire a place he hadn't been before, mainly because he often had to blow said place up, but this little town really impressed him. Foot traffic made way for another horse, which Scout reached his hand out to pet. He followed the crowd for now, not sure where to go. Soon, a church steeple caught his eye. Scout hadn't really ever been very religious, but his mother had, even though she slept with basically anyone she came across. Scout decided, for the sake of nostalgia, that he would visit the church.

The ornate doors pulled apart for him on approach. Scout didn't know if there was a motion detector, or if this was some Merasmus-style crap, but he thought it was a bit ominous. The church was practically empty, yet deep voices still sang quietly in Latin, probably from a speaker somewhere. Scout saw plenty of candles illuminating the faces of people in pictures, some perched on cabinets, others hugging the walls, a shrine to those lost in this terrible war. If he found a picture of his mother, he was going to put her with the rest. It was the least she deserved.

He walked further into the pew-less church, and found a man in a red work coat, jeans, and fingerless gloves on his hands, kneeling in front of a statue of Jesus, chanting in Latin. His words were different from those in the song, but for some reason, they were a lot more relaxing to Scout. Scout didn't even notice the candles floating around him, until one of them lit on fire.

Scout yelped, startled, causing the other man to lose focus. The candles fell to the ground, the ignited one blowing out as it touched the concrete floor. The man turned his head around to look at Scout, giving Scout a clear view of the nasty hole where his left eye used to be, and the huge scars that ran over it.

"Hello, Scout", the man said, standing up and walking towards the boy. The man towered over him by a whole head, and was covered in scars where his skin was visible. A 1928 bootlegger fifty-shot model Thompson sub-machine gun hung from his belt on his right hip, along with two M1911 pistols, one of which sat on each hip, and on his right hand, large brass rings shined in the candlelight. He quickly pulled a patch over his missing left eye, running a hand through his blond hair before placing an old WW1 style British helmet over his head.

"Are you a wizard", was the first thing that came out of Scout's mouth.

The man chuckled, scratching his ginger stubble.

"A Warrior, actually. The Spirit is not limited to the Prophets", he said simply, patting Scout on the shoulder. "I'm the Scout around here. They call me Jeremiah, but you can call me Jerry. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Uh, likewise", Scout said, confused beyond belief. Scout had been to Hell and back, literally, and he had seen some things that made no sense to him; this was just another one of those things to add to the list.

"Say, Scout", Jerry said, "how about a race? I could use the exercise."

Scout grinned. It was time to prove that his position as Scout was a secure title. Some wizard wasn't going to take it from him on his watch.

…

HitSpy awoke, feeling much better than he did with the bullets in him. The incisions were sewn shut, and he felt his wounds healing already. He looked around to find himself in his old room.

A soft snoring told him that his roommate was asleep as well.

Something in the corner of the room caught his eye; a chair, that hadn't been there before. HitSpy looked around the room again, to make sure that they didn't have any uninvited guests. The bathroom door caught his eye; it had been shut, and a soft glow was coming from under it. HitSpy reached into his suit to pull out the Derringer, but he suddenly realized that he was no longer in his suit. Instead, hospital garnets covered his body.

HitSpy knew that he couldn't stand in his current state. The drugs that the doctor had given him were still affecting him. He could do nothing but wait for the enemy to show himself.

The door to the bathroom opened, and a middle-aged bald man, wearing a cowboy hat, overalls, a red undershirt and a robotic right arm stepped out.

"Engineer?"

Dell Conagher, the Engineer, turned to look at HitSpy. A smile quickly plastered his face.

"Finally decided to wake up, did ya?"

"It was a good nap. How did you get here?"

"Helicopter. When they said Spy and Scout showed up at Wonderosa, I just had ta see for myself."

"Wonder-who?"

"What, you thought this was a base all its life? It's a whole town, standing up against Blu, and it has a name. The locals built it as a refugee shelter initially, but Red made some tweaks to it, and it's practically a fortress now."

"Amazing."

"I always thought the same. I was on my way anyway, going ta give it some defensive upgrades, but I definitely decided to extend my stay when I heard about ya'll."

"Engineer", HitSpy began, but he thought better about grilling Dell Conagher on all the particulars of the overall situation. Instead, he decided to start conversation with, "Why does everyone seem to have different weapons?"

"Well", Engineer began to explain, "when you're fighting the main power in wherever you are, it's hard to come across someone who wants to fund you. So we pretty much just pick up whatever we can use, kinda like Scout did. I even heard of a squad over in New Mexico that are still holding off the Blu lines with nothing but muskets, though I don't know if that's just a rumor. We do have one gun factory, but it's mostly dedicated to M16's."

"Speaking of Scout", HitSpy said, "where are my gadgets?"

That got a chuckle from the Engineer.

"Being mail-ordered up to here as we speak. For now, ya'll're gonna have ta stay here."

"And now that I think of it, where is Scout?"

"Probably talking about himself to everyone he sees. I'll go check on the little rascal, you stay here."

"Like I have a choice", HitSpy mumbled, as the Engineer walked out of the room.

…

Scout lost.

Badly.

He had no idea how, but he lost in a race.

Jerry had been WAY faster than him, and Scout suspected that it had something to do with his wizardness. Jerry jogged back over to Scout, and said, "Rematch?"

"No one likes wizards", Scout said in anger, "you hear me? You're doomed to die alone!"

"That's… hurtful", Jerry said, no longer jogging in place. "Do you want me to not use the power?"

"Yeah, that's cheating!"

"Alright, calm down", Jerry said, holding up his hands defensively, "I'm just showing you why I'm the Scout around here. You want a rematch, no divine intervention this time? You got it."

The two Scouts lined back up at the beginning of the track. The training grounds, where the track was located, were packed with people watching the race take place. People were even betting on who would win, and others were cheering either Scout on.

Jerry turned to Scout, and said, "May the fastest man win."

The referee came back out onto the track, and pulled out a pistol.

"When this pistol goes off", the referee said, "both of you will run as fast as you can to the finish line. Are you ready?"

Each Scout nodded simultaneously.

The pistol fired.

Scout took off, with Jerry right next to him. The two were neck and neck for the five hundred yard dash, with Scout only barely pulling ahead at the end. He crossed the finish line nearly two inches in front of Jerry.

Neither Scout was out of breath, but both had a newfound respect for each other. Scout would have usually gloated about his winning, but that was only because everyone else that Scout had outrun had been outrun at so a great distance. If Jerry could keep up with him, then Scout could respect that.

They both shook hands.

"Satisfied", Jerry asked.

"You let me win, didn't you", Scout questioned.

Jerry merely winked, and walked off to go do something. Scout decided to go visit HitSpy in the hospital while he waited. He turned towards the hospital, and started a light jog. However, before he could make it to the hospital, he began to go deep into thought.

'I still can't decide if Jerry's a wizard or not', Scout thought to himself, 'but I guess he's alright… for a wizard…'

At about this time, Scout ran right into a horse; literally. As he was tossed to the ground, the horse reared up. Scout rolled out of the way as the horse came back down. Scout jumped up, and was about to cuss out the rider, but when he saw who it was, his face immediately lit up.

"Hey, hardhat!"

"Scout", Engineer said, overjoyed. "Just the little jackrabbit I was lookin' for!"

"What's up?"

"Spy's awake, and boy do I have some surprises for you two!"

As he said this, a Chinook helicopter touched down on the big heli-pad near the barracks. Soldiers immediately began unloading supplies from it, large boxes and crates. The labels on them couldn't be seen from where Scout stood.

"Oh, would ya look at that", Engineer said, watching the Chinook, "the shipment arrived early. Let's go check it out."