A/N: Nothin' to see here, move along, move along...

There was no sign of the Pyro (or anybody else, for that matter) by the time the Engineer reached the basement; but, there was some far off shouting that indicated the others were still hot on the BLU's trail. If that kept up, he'd have a minute or two to investigate without interruption. Really, the basement didn't seem like the best place to hide a teleporter, but his gut hadn't led him astray yet.

So, he checked down the side passages, but that turned up nothing useful. He checked every corner he came across, which took all of five seconds to note that nothing was there. Just about ready to give up and head back up topside, the Engineer was passing by the large computer banks, quietly whirring and beeping to themselves, when he realized there was another layer to their ambient sound. A low, rythmic whummmm whummmmm whummmmm.

Teleporter.

It sounded like he was just about right on top of it, too. Except the hallway was devoid of any machines spinning a disc of bright blue light. The Engineer could say with some confidence he wasn't overlooking it hidden a corner somewhere - the damn things weren't exactly subtle. But he could hear it. Unless he was going crazy, it had to be right h-

The Engineer stopped in his tracks, and looked up. There, perched precariously on the top of one of the computer banks like some kind of radioactive cyborg bluebird... was a teleporter. As he watched, the spinning arms picked up speed. Somebody's comin' through!

He scrambled back around the corner and flattened himself against the wall. Hell, if it worked before...

In a blue-lit blink of an eye, the Engineer's madcap doppleganger appeared, half-ducked to no doubt avoid materalizing with his head part way into the ceiling. The BLU looked around and the RED edged back out of sight and held his breath.

Was this what the Spy's job was like, he wondered? Just... stepping slightly sideways, out of people's perception? No wonder that slippery snake was always so smug.

There came a quiet thump that seemed to indicate his counterpart had dropped down to the ground. Reaching for his shotgun, the Engineer came around the corner with his gun raised and ready, pointing it right into the startled, eerilie familiar face of the BLU Engineer.

The expression of surprise relaxed back into an easygoing grin. "Not too shabby, Tex," the BLU drawled. "Color me impressed."

Then the BLU tensed, and the Engineer knew, just knew, that he was about to make a grab for the gun. "Don't-" the Engineer started to say, when all of a sudden the door behind the BLU was flung open and a second BLU, this time a tall gangly Scout, burst through. It took the Engineer a second to realize the kid's hands were tied in front of him. In that second, the BLU Scout saw the pair of Engineers and skidded to a halt. He gulped, gaze firmly locked on the blue-garbed Texan. "Shit."

The BLU Engineer's shoulders slumped. "Aw, kid. What're you doing here." It wasn't a question, it wasn't even really directed at the Scout so much as muttered half to himself, a rhetorical expression of disappointment, and the 'kid' didn't answer it.

The door burst open again, and out came the Doc, glasses askew. When he saw the little gathering at the foot of the stairs, he fumbled for his syringe gun and brought it up to bear on the BLU Scout, who spun to face him, bound hands held up defensively. "Whoa, whoa, okay, j-just, just calm down, okay? H-hang on a minute! We had a deal! I surrendered!"

The RED Engineer blinked, then frowned. "Really, Doc?"

For a fleeting moment, the Medic looked chagrined. Then he seemed to take stock of the situation, and frowned right back. "You're vun to talk."

"Hell," said the BLU Engineer, matter-of-factly, and then, with a glance back at the RED, slowly raised his hands. "Well, Tex. I guess you caught us."

Well. That just took a turn. Gone from facing down one BLU at gun point, to facing down two BLUs, with the help of one ex-BLU. Hadn't he and the Doc done this little song and dance number before?

Feelings of deja vu aside, the Engineer knew he should be happier about this. After all, hadn't he just single handedly tracked down the miserable miscreant BLU, when the rest of his team couldn't? More than that, apparently he'd done it just in time to prevent a second BLU from escaping. All of that was quite the accomplishment, if he did say so himself.

There was just something fishy about this BLU Engineer. About the whole damn thing, in fact. He didn't like it.

But there was nothing to do but keep playing the hand he was dealt, until he could figure out what his BLU doppleganger had hidden up his sleeves. The Engineer set his jaw, and replied, dryly, "I guess I did."

"Hard Hat," the BLU Scout stage-whispered at his teammate, as if the REDs somehow couldn't listen in at that frequency. "What're you doing?"

The BLU Engineer didn't bother with such subterfuge. "What I always do, kid. I'm keepin' you out of trouble." He didn't take his eyes off the RED Engineer or his gun, and when the smile returned, it's humor was darker, not as carefree. "It's your move, Tex."

x x x

The Medic and the Engineer had herded their mutual captives together and were in the process of deciding what, exactly, they were actually going to do with them, when matters were complicated further by the arrival of the Scout. The exuberant young man bounded around the corner, spotted the BLUs, and let out a whoop of glee that incited instant panic in his BLU counterpart - who dodged around to hide behind the Medic.

The Engineer stepped in the way, stopping the Scout short with one gloved hand. "Hang on, hang on. We've caught 'em, we're not killing 'em."

The Scout took this news as well as could be expected. "What?!" He staggered backwards, hands clutched to the sides of his head. Then he flung his arms wide and addressed the ceiling as if it was personally responsible. "Seriously?! Again?!" He paused in his theatrics to stop and look over, leaning around the Engineer. "I mean. No offense, Doc."

"None taken," was the sardonic reply.

"It's just... do we actually kill BLUs anymore? We're not keeping these guys, right? 'Cos, I mean... no offense, Doc-"

"Ve are not keeping zhem."

"Okay, it's just, we've already got an Engineer and a Scout, so we don't really need any more-"

"Ve are not keeping zhem."

From behind the Medic came the BLU Scout's plaintive, "Hey, but you said-"

I am surrounded by dummkopfs. The Medic let an exasperated sigh out through his teeth, and then, in a tone that tried to suggest there would be no further discussion on the subject, said, "Ve are keeping zhem as prisoners, for information only, and zhey are not joining our team. Is everyvun satisfied now?"

There was not-quite-a-snicker that came from the RED Engineer's direction. The Medic shot a glare at him that said, plainly, You could help, you know.

His infuriating teammate just smirked. Could. Not gonna. Then the smirk changed into a frown. Hold up. I'm not exchanging unspoken subtext with you. You and me don't do that.

No, the Medic's look said, dryly. Of course not.

"I'm not satisfied," the Scout grumbled, oblivious to the silent squabbling. "But, nobody's asking me what I want, anyways-"

"That's great, son," the Engineer interrupted him. "Could you do us a favor and go find the Spy? I reckon we could use him right about now."

"Fine. Sure. Whatever."

"Zere is no need." As if he'd been waiting in the wings for a cue, the Spy practically materalized (as opposed to actually materializing, like he normally did) behind the Scout. "Voila! I am here."

"Great. That's just great." The Scout was in full blown sulk mode, with the complete ensemble of hunched shoulders, folded arms, and unruly scowl. "D'you need me to not do anything else, or should I go let the other guys know t' start braidin' flowers in their hair and tie-dying their shirts because apparently we are now a bunch of wusses."

The Spy looped a patronizing arm over his younger teammate's shoulders. "I would much prefer if you stayed and 'elped to guard ze prisoners. It would mean," he added, in a consoling tone, "Zat you would get to shoot zem if zey attempted to escape."

The Scout perked up. "Really?"

The other Scout looked alarmed. "Hey! I'm not escaping! I am definitely not escaping!"

The BLU Engineer sighed. "Kid..."

"I'm not! I'm staying right frickin' here!"

"Zat is good to 'ear! 'Owever, I 'ope you do not mean zat literally, since I zink it's time we moved zis little chat to a more secure location." The Spy gestured elegantly towards the door that would lead back towards the living quarters and Medbay. "Doctor, if you would get ze door?"

xxx

Underneath the Spy's outward jovial demeanor there ran an undercurrant of energy. In a lesser being, it would have been labeled 'nervous' energy, but he was never nervous. Neither was it excitement, because that implied he was looking forward to something. No, it was more accurately described as a 'heightened' energy. It was, perhaps, the feeling that you'd get when you'd heard the man eating tiger roaring off in the distance and knew he'd caught your scent. There was time to prepare, and victory was not out of the question... but while you weren't in imminent danger, your safety would depend entirely upon the strength of the defenses you could muster, and the speed in which you did so.

He would have to warn the others. He would also require some kind of proof, besides his own experiences and the ravings of a madman, if he wanted any chance of being believed.

Now, if one of these two BLUs could confirm his theory, that would at least be enough to convince the relatively saner of his colleagues, such as the Sniper or the Engineer. The Medic, he suspected, would attempt to cling to denial. Nevertheless, it would be a start.

The BLUs were ushered into the locker room just off of the basement stairs, which doubled as a supply closet. Branching from there was the door to the Medbay, as well as one that led to their new living quarters, but this room was a little more than a small antechamber, tiled in white (which seemed like a poor choice considering their line of work - it was actually rather astonishing that it was still white), with a line of open, wooden lockers lining the walls and two polished wooden benches running parallel to each other.

To the Scout, the Spy said, "Guard our prisoners for a moment, if you please? Now," he continued in a lower tone, without waiting for the Scout's protest, and turned to the Medic and Engineer, indicating that they join him off in the corner. "Ze Engineer I was aware of. Tell me about zis Scout."

xxx

While the REDs had their little pow-wow, the BLU Engineer settled back on his heels and said, quietly, to the BLU Scout beside him. "Now listen, kid. Just stay calm, alright? We'll tell 'em it's my fault. Say I dragged you along to come rile up the REDs. Nobody else has t' know what you've been up to."

"I'm not goin' back, Engie." The kid was staring at the white tile in front of his feet. "I'm not doin' it. I'd rather hide out in a closet eating what I am really hoping were just expired vitamins outta unmarked pill bottles for three days than go back, okay? That... that other guy, he's nuts..."

"Yeah, I know..." There was a pause, and then a twinge of guilt. "Three days? Really?"

"Didn't even notice, didja."

"Sorry, kid. I was..." His fingers, under the yellow and grey work glove, flexed a little. "...workin' on somethin'."

"Sure."

"Hey!" That was the other Scout, the RED one, finally deciding to join conversation. "No talking. Or I'll shoot ya."

The Texan turned to the kid, practically a carbon copy of the one standing next to him except for the color of his shirt, and smiled. "Maybe you oughta." He spread his hands, casually, providing a better target. "Go on, then."

"Nononono, don't listen to him, he's crazy, I made a deal."

"Scout," the Spy called from across the room. "Do not shoot zem."

"Aw, what? You said I could!"

"I said you could shoot zem if zey attempted to escape." He gestured vaguely, as if this was a trivial detail. "In ze kneecaps, or somezing. No killing zem."

"Wh- are you serious? Spy, c'mon!"

"'No killing', huh?" The BLU Engineer muttered. "Someone's been clued in..."

xxx

When the Spy turned his attention back to his colleagues, the Engineer had his thoughtful face on. Absently rubbing his chin, the hard-hatted Texan said, "Listen, I'm all for interrogating these two, but... Well, the BLUs are down two Scouts from last night, right? And with these two tied up, that leaves the BLUs at half-strength, at least. Maybe we oughta make a push for it." He looked up at the Spy, and jerked a thumb off in the general direction of the Intel room. "Me an' our new pal guard the Intel, and the rest of you folks just rush 'em. It don't matter if they're up to somethin' fishy if we just hurry up and beat them."

"Non." His teammates looked startled at the vehemence of his reply. "I zink it is unwise to assume zat ze BLUs are not at full strength. I 'ave reason to believe zat if we go over zere, now, in force... we will be overwhelmed."

This earned him a hard, suspicious look. "You know somthin'."

The Spy hesitated. He knew enough, and the others needed to be warned, but... it sounded crazy. The Engineer wouldn't believe a word of it, coming from him, and the Medic would do his best to convince himself that it was impossible. No, before he said anything, he'd need proof. Concrete proof. But, it was clear that the Engineer, at least, was not going to accept anything that didn't sound like some kind of explanation. "I zink..." He said, after a moment, "I zink zey 'ave some kind of new technology, but I can't be sure." The Spy inclined his head towards their prisoners. "Speak to your counterpart. See what you can find out. Afterwards, we will compare notes, and I will tell you everyzing I know." As soon as it was out of his mouth, he realized that last part was a mistake.

"Or you could just tell me now, and save us all the trouble."

"I could, but I wont," the Spy said, firmly. He could just imagine how that conversation would go. What in tarnation do you mean, the BLUs are rising from their graves? and Vhat, zhe Demoman told you so? Oh, vell, zhat's a very reliable source of information. No, his colleagues may not like it, but he could barely convince himself that it was true. It was impossible to believe that he might convince the others.

Besides, there was nothing stopping the Engineer from coming to his own conclusions except stubbornness. It hadn't always been this way, the Spy was sure. There had been a time that every word out of his mouth wasn't immediately doubted and called into question.

It was time for drastic measures. "Listen. You want honesty? Zis is me, being honest. I zink I have ze answer, yes. But it is based on conjecture and ze ravings of a madman. I need corroboration. If you speak to zis BLU before I 'ave told you anyzing, and still come to ze same conclusions I have, zen ze ozzers will listen to us." He paused for emphasis, then, putting weight behind his words to drive the point in, he said, "Zey will listen to you."

The look the Engineer gave him was hard and distrustful, but, the Spy thought, not quite so hostile and suspicious as it had been, before. "...Assuming I agree to all this, where'll you be, while I'm talkin' to him?"

"Speaking to ze Scout, of course."

"Of course," came the sarcastic echo. The Engineer rubbed his chin, mulling things over - which meant he was thinking, at least, which was an encouraging sign - then he nodded. "Alright, fine. We'll have it your way. But after that, you're telling me everything, Spy. I'm holdin' you to that."

"Good." The Spy switched off his honesty face and resumed the broad grin of almost manic joviality. "Doctor?"

The Medic started, like a guilty student who'd just been caught with his mind wandering. "I am not questioning anyvun," he said, firmly.

"I agree completely," the Spy assured him, with a patronizing smile. "Go find ze ozzers. Let zem know zat ze BLU Engineer 'as been taken care of, and... make sure zey stay together until we catch up wiz zem. Bring zem back to ze Intel room, per'aps."

No doubt even the Engineer could work out that their Medic found this hostage-taking situation awkward. Nor would someone have to be as perceptive as a Spy to spot the relief that filtered into the doctor's expression. It wasn't necessary to keep him here, and the team did need to be kept out of harm's way. Besides, the Engineer was the one the Spy needed to convince. Even if the doctor didn't believe, he could, at least, be counted upon to follow the Spy's instructions without questioning his friend's every motive. "Ja, I can do zhat."

As the Medic headed for the door, there was a cry of protest from the BLUs direction. "Hey, wait! Doc! Where you goin'?!"

Turning on his heel, the Spy spun to face their captives with a disarming smile. "Not to worry! 'E 'as explained to me ze terms, as it were, of your surrender."

The RED Scout gave his BLU doppleganger a little shove with his elbow, grumbling, "You don't call him 'Doc.' He's our Doc."

"Yes, yes, thank you, Scout." Dismissing the RED, Spy gestured for the BLU to accompany him through the door that led to the barracks.

As the door swung shut behind them, the BLU Scout glanced back over his shoulder, nervously. "So, uh, where're we goin', exactly?"

"You said zat you wanted to 'ide?" The Spy indicated the long hallway, filled with identical doors, and said, "We are going to 'ide."

xxx

Which left the RED Engineer in charge of his double, and also one very dissatisfied RED Scout. The BLU jerked a thumb at one of the benches. "Mind if I sit?"

"Sure," the Engineer drawled. "I reckon you wore your feet out, runnin' around our base willy-nilly all morning." When he got a chuckle, he continued, "What exactly where you tryin' to accomplish, mister?"

The other Engineer shrugged, settling back on the bench. "I was testin' a theory."

"A theory."

"That's right. I theorized I could run circles around you boys. Turns out, I was right."

"Says the guy we caught," muttered the Scout, dismissively.

The Engineer frowned. "You were cheating. You had to've been using at least two sets of teleporters."

His doppleganger laughed, and then fixed him with a broad, toothy grin. "Prove it."

Funny. He'd seen that face every morning for as long as he could remember, looking back at him from the mirror. He'd never, before this moment, wanted to punch it, right in that self satisfied grin it was wearing. Right now, he'd give just about anything to do that. He realized suddenly that his hands had clenched themselves into fists and, with considerable effort (and a tinge of regret) the Engineer forced himself to relax. It did not help to watch that cat-that-ate-the-canary grin grow even wider, as the BLU noticed it, too.

"Mister," he said, in a tone that the Spy would've probably disdained him for, since it wasn't just wearing his heart on his sleeve, it was wearing it in elaborate needlepoint with useful annotations embroidered around the edges. "You are pretty damn satsified for some gosh darn ignoramus that got himself captured by the enemy team, without a damn thing to show for it. So, now what, smart guy? Either we kill you, or we turn you over to Command for breakin' the rules."

"Guess not everybody's clued in," the BLU remarked, conversationally, and then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "How long have you been in this business, Tex? You've got that look. You know, the I'm tired of all this look. One too many Sentries blow up in your face, yet? Or, maybe you're sick of sittin' back behind the lines, twiddling your thumbs and feelin' useless? No, don't try an' argue - I know you. Or, leastways, I know me."

"You got a point somewhere in all that, Mister?" It came out too close to a snarl. This was not how interrogations were supposed to work.

"Sure. My point is, Tex... you want to know what I'm up to? It's real simple. Just ask yourself... What would you do, if you knew you could get away with it?" The BLU grinned patronizingly at him. "I know philosophy's not the usual purview of intellectual discourse for fellas like you and me, but... just think about for a minute, real seriously. Ask yourself, honestly now... How much trouble would you go and kick up, if you knew that nobody could stop you?"

It was, at that moment, that the door that led back into the base swung open. Reflexively, he glanced back, and saw the Medic standing in the doorway.

..

The door slid shut behind the Medic with a palpable feeling of relief. It wasn't until he was out of their company that the doctor could really appreciate how awkward the entire situation was. Find zhe ozzers. That was something he could do. He'd go find the Heavy and the rest, and have nice friendly civil conversations with people dressed in RED. All of the nice, friendly, red, red, red...

The Medic reached the top of the straight stairs and stood, looking out over the empty courtyard. He was never really sure, later, what made him turn around, whether it had been a noise, or simply some instinct. Whatever the reason was, he glanced over his shoulder, to look back down the stairs.

...and nearly had a heart attack. Whirling around, he fumbled to keep his glasses - precariously balanced after being broken by the headbutt from before - from falling off his face.

The Pyro was standing behind him.

It took a moment or two for his heart to stop hammering in his chest and disrupting the normal operation of his lungs. When it did, and he could find his voice again, he snapped, "I really vish you vould stop doing zhat." It was a pointless fantasy, however. After all, letting the inscrutible masked man know how much that irritated him would only encourage him to keep doing it. Still trying to regain his ruffled composure, the Medic added, "Zhe Spy sent me to look for everyvun. Have you seen ze ozzers?"

The Pyro nodded, once, then stepped aside and pointed back down the stairs.

There was something intrensically creepy about the Pyromaniac. He could be surprisingly emotive when he wanted to be, but when he didn't want to be... Well. The alien, inhuman lenses like eyes, the shapeless gas mask, the thick asbestos suit... There was just no telling what he was actually thinking. The Pyro was the one who'd originally captured him, back when he was still a BLU and they were all still enemies, and he'd never known if there had been some motive in that, or if it had merely been a whim, a moment of opportunity. Later, when he'd joined the team... he'd never asked. And the Pyro had never offered. But, he'd been perfectly friendly, in as much as Pyros ever were, though he still seemed to enjoy making the Medic jump...

The Medic moved back towards the stairs. The dark lenses followed him. "Ah. Zhis way?" he asked, as if it wasn't a stupid, obvious thing question to ask, considering all the pointing, and, since the Pyro didn't seem to be moving to lead the way, he started down the stairs himself.

He heard the Pyro start down the stairs after him. It wasn't until he'd reached the first corner, past the door at the bottom of the stairs, when the footsteps behind him stopped. Looking back, he saw that the Pyro was standing by the door. "Let's check zhe Intel room," he suggested. "Zhe Spy said to meet him zhere, anyvay."

There was a long pause, during which it was hard to determine if the Pyro had even understood him. Then, another slow nod. The Pyro started walking again, moving to join the Medic. Who couldn't quite bring himself to turn his back on the man, and so waited for him to catch up.

Even though he'd been half expecting it, the attack caught the Medic unprepared when it came. The 'Pyro' had just fallen into step beside him, when the fake firebug pivoted on his feet and drove his fist into the Medic's stomach, just beneath the rib cage. As he did so, the illusion of the Pyro rippled and faded like smoke, revealing the BLU Spy underneath.

The first strike had been designed to knock the air out of him, noted the clinical part of the Medic's brain, dispassionately watching the events unfold from where it sat in the back of his mind. Most likely to keep him from calling for help. It had done it's job quite effectively.

The second strike was a bull rush, shoving the wheezing German bodily up against the wall, as the BLU Spy's weight kept him momentarily pinned there. But, while the Medic didn't have the height advantage, he was more sturdily built than the skinny, stylish BLU. This manuever would have only bought the BLU Spy a moment or two of time, but that was all that was needed.

Because checkmate was the cold, metallic touch of the barrel of the Spy's revolver, tucked up underneath his chin. "Guten Morgen, doctor."

Like the RED Spy's voice, this one had a French flavor to it. But unlike his Spy's voice, with it's penchant for melodramatic eloquence, this Spy's voice was almost monotone. Low, without inflection or any particular emphasis. As if the words themselves were meaningless. A tedious chore that had to be carried out, but nothing more. Passionless. There was something about the voice that drew him to meet the BLU's gaze, and immediately he wished he hadn't.

It was like looking into the eyes of a shark. There was intelligence there, a mind operating behind the scenes, but no flicker of a soul or scrap of humanity. Those eyes didn't know the meaning of the word mercy, only hunger. And death.

"I require your assistance."

xxx

Moving very carefully, hands held up at shoulder level where they were perfectly visible, the Medic stepped into the Resupply room. Behind him, with one hand holding a firm grip on the doctor's collar and the other holding his revolver to the back of the Medic's head, was the BLU Spy. Immediately, everyone in the room froze.

Everyone, that is, except for the BLU Engineer. Who sat back on the bench, his laidback calm taking on a layer of watchfulness. "That was fast," he said, to the world at large.

"Doc!" said the Scout.

"I'm fine..."

"Indeed." The Medic felt a jerk on his collar as the enemy Spy tightened his grip, indicating that his prisoner should stop. The door slid shut behind them. "For the moment. If you would like that to continue to be true, you will do exactly as I say." As the BLU Spy spoke, he nudged his hostage to start moving again, guiding the RED closer to his comrades. He watched the RED Scout start to edge sideways, as if looking for a way to flank the enemy Spy. The cold, metallic barrel of the revolver was pressed more firmly against the back of the Medic's skull, forcing him to tilt his head forward slightly unless he wanted half an inch of gun wedged painfully into the back of his head. "But, perhaps, his life means very little to you. By all means, throw it away. As for myself, I have no compunctions about killing him."

"Compunctions means-," the Engineer started to mutter, out of the corner of his mouth.

"I know what comp... uh, compost...uations... those whatchamacallems are. Jeez." The Scout stopped edging. "I'm not stupid."

"I am thrilled to hear it," the BLU Spy said, dryly. They stopped again. His captor continued, "Then you comprehend the situation? Yes? Good. First, you'll put your weapons down and slide them over to me."

The REDs didn't immediately fall over themselves to comply. The Scout looked over at the Engineer, clearly looking for confirmation. The Engineer's attention was fixed on the Medic, however, and you could practically see the gears turning. After a gratifyingly small hestation, the Texan gave a small nod, and both REDs slowly stooped to set their shotguns on the tiled floor.

"And over to me," the BLU reminded them. A few seconds later, the weapons skittered across the tile. The Engineer's shotgun slid to a stop close enough to the Medic's foot that he thought he might be able to kick it back towards his teammate, if given the opportunity.

"Bonne. Now... Where did they take the boy?" This last was to the BLU Engineer, apparently. The Medic watched a muscle move in the other BLU's jaw, as he if was chewing on the question before answering it.

Then he indicated the direction with a slight tilt of his head. "That a-way."

The BLU Spy nodded. Then clubbed the Medic over the back of the head with the butt of his revolver.

xxx

"Doc!"

The RED Scout tensed to lunge, though whether he was aiming for the BLU Spy or for the crumpling body of the Medic was anyone's guess. The BLU answered the question for him, shoving the semi-or-possibly-just-straight-up-unconscious doctor at the Scout as he fell. The runner wrestled, first with the split second decision of whether to catch his teammate or to dodge, and then simply wrestled with the weight of the Medic (having come to that decision).

As he did so, the BLU's revolver swung towards the RED Engineer.

Even as his brain registered this fact, the gun barked, once. Sudden agony blossomed in his leg, and the knee buckled under him. He only just managed to catch himself on his hands instead of landing with his full weight on the bullet wound.

"Whoa! Hard Hat!"

The Engineer looked up, and met the BLU Spy's eyes down the sights of the bastard's revolver.

Damn, he thought.

Then the gun swung around to point at the BLU Engineer, instead. Who had just been sitting, calmly, while the chaos erupted around him. The Texas laborer in his fancy white cowboy hat didn't even flinch with his teammate's gun trained on him. In fact, he seemed to be ignoring the gun completely, his attention fixed on the man at the other end of the weapon. "Go easy on the k-"

The gun barked again, catching the BLU Engineer in mid sentence and putting a hole clean in the center of his forehead. His body jerked, then slumped backwards over the bench, as if he'd suddenly been switched off, then discarded in a heap.

Then the BLU Spy was gone, the door to the barracks swinging shut behind him.

The Engineer struggled to his feet and half hobbled, half fell over to the bench, trying to ignore the feeling of molten lead being funneled directly into his leg through his knee cap. The Scout had just managed to disentangle himself from the Medic's dead weight and eased the Doc down onto the floor. "Get after him, kid," the Engineer said, voice strained. "Quick!"

The kid hardly needed encouragement. Fast as lightning, the Scout scooped up his scatter gun and was gone, as well.

The Engineer slid down to the floor next to the Medic, stifling a groan. What the hell just happened here? That was his brain, though, the voice of rational thought and conscious analysis that really was just a bunch of background noise at the moment, while the rest of his attention stayed on task. The Doc was breathing, so that was one problem solved, or at least solved to the degree that he was currently equipped to deal with it.

Next problem: Don't bleed out. Leg wounds could be nasty.

Almost mechanically, the Engineer fished around in his toolbelt for his duct tape.

xxx

The BLU Scout had followed the RED Spy in nervous silence as they made their way past neat sets of identical doors. The hallway was more reminescent of a college dorm than, for example, a military barracks. It fell somewhere between comfort and utilitarian, with a brief detour through "dingy." The drab hallway was lit via impractical, inefficient light fixtures that were hung between each parallel set of doors, like little street lights or lanterns. Similarly to street lights, they left little pools of light beneath them, that only served to darken the shadows crowding in between them. The walls themselves were painted a shade of red that looked as if it had been left out in the rain and the mud, and then run over by a truck a few times.

The captive BLU did not seem to find any of this reassuring.

The usual platitudes would not be effective, the Spy suspected. Zere's nothing to be afraid of was blatantly untrue and both of them knew it. "'Ave you been at zis base long?"

The boy flinched at the sound of the Spy's voice, but then the words seemed to sink in. "Huh? O-oh. Yeah, I guess."

"Was zis your first base?"

"Nah. Uh, I was at some place called Sawmill b'fore this."

"Mm. And, did any of your current teammates come wiz you from ze last base?"

"Uh, y-yeah... The other guy did. He wasn't... I mean." There was a long pause, as the BLU seemed to be trying to think of what, exactly, he did mean. "We both transferred in together. He was at the base before Sawmill with me, too."

"I see."

The ice broken and the beginnings of a rapport established, they lapsed back into a brief silence, while the Spy reflected on the fact that that lapsing into silence was even possible, while walking alongside a Scout. These BLUs were proving to be extremely unusual.

"Zis will do," he said, somewhere midway down the hall, and picked one of the nearby doors at random. It was locked, but that was hardly a deterrant. Presumably the keys were around, somewhere, but keys were for simpletons who couldn't learn how to pick a lock.

That was when they heard the gun shots.

There was a lot of information that one could glean merely from listening to a gun shot, especially if you paid close attention and were familiar with the different sounds different guns made. It was a simple matter to rule out a minigun, a rocket or grenade launcher, or a flamethrower. A more observant observer would note that this wasn't an Engineer or Scout's pistol, with the quick, light succession of shots - bambambam! - but neither was it the explosive shout of the shotgun. This was a single, purposeful, punctuating shot, followed shortly by a second. A revolver.

Only one class of mercenary was issued a revolver as a side arm.

The Spy twisted the handle and shoved the door open, urgency warring with composure. "Inside," he said, with a facade of calm, to the suddenly hyperventilating Scout. When the boy appeared to be frozen in place, he added, more sharply, "Quickly."

The BLU still didn't move, so the Spy grabbed hold of him and half shoved him through the doorway. "Oh, god. What'm I doing. Shit, shit, shit, shit..." The words burst from the boy like pus from an open wound, a gush of emotional bile. Panic. Irrational fear.

Though, perhaps, it was in fact quite rational.

"Calm down." The tone and the words were carefully crafted to be the surgeon's scalpel, lancing the terror and temporarily expelling the panic before it grew to become true hysterics. The BLU Scout gulped, but stopped babbling. "Stay here. Hide. Be silent. You only 'ave one Spy, correct?"

"Uh, y-yeah-"

"Zen, when I return, I will bring one of my teammates. If I'm ze only one who enters zis room, it is not me. Understand?"

"Sure. I just... why're you... why're you helping me?"

"I'm not." The Spy took a step back and raised the wrist he wore his usual cloaking device on. "I'm helping me."

xxx

Invisible and as near to silent as he could manage, the Spy shut the door behind him. He heard the lock click and, satisfied that it would not be immediately apparent which of the rooms now contained their BLU prisoner, he turned his attention to the hallway itself, and it's current occupant.

He'd been correct. It was a Spy. A silhouette identical to the one he, himself, would cast if he'd been visible, though colored a dark, navy blue. The other Spy flickered in and out of sight, through no magic or mystery of science, but merely inadequate lighting: He emerged into the circle of light under one lamp, plunged into the shadows that lurked between them and then swept back into the light of the next lamp, moving with a brisk, purposeful stride.

The BLU was alone in the hallway and there had been two gun shots. He would have had to pass by the Engineer and the Scout and yet there was no pursuit. That did not bode well for his teammates. But there was nothing he could do about that. So, he acknowledged a brief twinge of alarm, almost politely, then endeavored to ignore it.

That endeavor was made easier by the arrival of the RED Scout, himself. The boy burst into sight at the far end of the hallway. "Hey! Where d'you think you're going?"

The BLU did not turn, or alter his pace. He strode forward into the shadows, and vanished, in a faint shimmer of blue.

The Scout, racing down the hallway after him, jogged to a sudden stop. "Aw, crap."

xxx

He switched to his bat and began making his way along the corridor, 'testing' the air in front of him with sweeping swings of the solid length of wood. Other guys might go for metal, but as far as the Scout was concerned, there was just no substitute for a wooden bat. There was probably science behind it, or somethin', but mostly he just liked the way it swung.

Despite his initial reaction, the Scout was not actually worried about this invisible bad guy stuff. Let's be honest, he did this all the time. Fighting Spies wasn't as awesome as fighting other Scouts, but if you weren't a moron, it was basically pretty easy. For example, this chuckle head over here: If he didn't decloak pretty soon, then he must have the same kind of gizmo that the RED Spy had. Which meant that he could stay invisible for basically ever, if he stood still a lot.

Standing still when you were fighting a Scout was basically just asking to get your ass kicked.

So, what's it gonna be? If he doesn't show up in five... four... three...

There was a sudden crackle of electricity and the BLU loomed suddenly inches in front of him, occupying air that the Scout's bat had just frickin' passed through on the backswing. "Whoa!"

The BLU latched onto his free wrist. The Scout tried to swing at him, but the enemy Spy twisted his arm and then, abruptly, before the Scout could follow what had just happened exactly, he found that the BLU was behind him, twisting his arm up behind his back with what had to be one hand, because the other one was holding a gun to the side of his head.

"Monsieur! Votre attention, s'il vous plait!"

There was a shimmer of red, and the Spy, their Spy, appeared. He was standing maybe a couple of bat-lengths away down the hall, just at the edge of the next puddle of light.

"Oui?"

"Whoa! Hey. Spy. Okay, listen. This is really, really important." He winced a little, as the BLU tightened his grip. "You're listening, right? Do. Not. Kill this guy. Okay? I saw him first. I'm calling dibs."

It was kind of super helpful that the guy kept talking, even though the Scout couldn't understand a word of it. Because now the Scout knew where the dum-dum's big stupid head was, more or less. Y'know, just in case it became important. "J'ai quelque chose de toi. Vous avez quelque chose de moi. Allons-nous echanger?"

Their Spy didn't acknowledge the dibs, but he also hadn't moved, so the Scout figured it was basically the same thing. "Un échange équitable."

"Ensuite, vous acceptez?"

Okay, seriously. Frickin' Frenchies. The Scout rolled his eyes, and struggled against the instinct to fidget impatiently. "Spy, what'd he say? What'd you say? C'mon, what're you guys saying?"

xxx

There was not an iota of fear in the Scout's question. It was the impatient blathering of someone stuck at the back of the crowd, trying to see, or hear, what the big fuss was all about.

Well. His counterpart did not appear agitated. That might be a good sign, but the Spy had known just as many men who could, and would, happily murder someone without any more thought or change of expression than if they'd scratched their nose.

Unbidden, in the back of his head, he heard his own voice say: Ze Scout 'as been 'ere six months. Which, I admit, is something of a record.

Watching the BLU Spy, he said, outloud, "He suggested an exchange of hostages. You for his team's Scout."

The RED Scout greeted this update with a derisive snicker, as if he was not currently being held at gunpoint by the person he was insulting. "Wow, this guy's really dumb, isn't he? You said no, right? Ow," he added, as the BLU tightened his grip, twisting the Scout's elbow further in the direction of his spine.

"I suggest you take this more seriously," said the BLU, in barely accented English.

"Sure, sure," said the Scout. Then he pivoted in the BLU Spy's arms, like he was trying to bury his face in the man's chest. And, in fact, the boy's face wound up snugged into the crook of the BLU's elbow, the barrel of the gun now pointing over his shoulder. At which point, the Scout brought his knee up - his sharp bony knee, propelled by leg muscles that did nothing but sprint all day - and drove it into the taller man's groin.

With a noise like a balloon slowly being deflated through a straw, the BLU folded up. The Scout nimbly stepped out of his distracted grip, bringing up the pistol he'd drawn with the hand the BLU hadn't been twisting up behind his back, and pointed it at the BLU's head. "Howzat?"

The BLU was allowed half a second for the turned tables to sink in, and then the Scout pulled the trigger.

Two more shots went into the body on the floor to ensure that it was nothing more than a body. Spinning back around to the Spy, the Scout flung his arms out and beamed at his teammate. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about! Or, wait, I mean..." Clasping his hands to his cheeks in mock horror, the Scout dropped to his knees. "Oh, god, I killed him! Oh, god, no!" He grabbed the BLU's limp hand and held it to his chest, his own free hand going to his forehead, face twisted in disingenuous despair. "Ohhhh no! No! I accidentally killed him that BLU! Like a frickin' badass! Which I totally didn't mean t' do, 'cos we're freaking pacifists now!" He bent forward, mock-sobbing into the dead Spy's chest... and then began sifting through the corpse's pockets, starting to trail off. "Ooh, hey, five dollars."

"Yes, yes, well done." The Spy nudged his counterpart's corpse with the toe of one patent leather shoe. "If you are finished gloating- Ah! But, what am I saying? Nevertheless, if you could perhaps gloat as we walk? Since you seem unconcerned, may I assume zat our Engineer was not killed?"

"Oh shi- Uh, yeah, he's probably okay. I mean, the other Spy shot him in the kneecap."

"How ironic."

"Right? 'Cos, you told me to-"

"Yes, zat is why it is ironic. Well done."