I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand before using it to shield my eyes from the sun. I stared at the figure before me. I knew I had seen him before. He looked like he'd been severely beaten. Blood oozed from his busted and swollen lower lip, and a deep gash ran along his forehead, just above his brow. Bruises and scuff marks littered his skin. His cheeks were flushed and scraped, like his arms; probably from falling. He couldn't have been here for too long. The battle had ended one hour ago and only lasted three or four hours. He was breathing heavily, but other then that, he lay completely still. I squatted down, pulling his red shirt up and checking his stomach and chest. He had several dark purple bruises, cuts, more scrapes and old scars. He hadn't been shot, luckily, but his right shoulder had a long gash running down to his elbow. It looked like a spy had failed backstabbing him. I pulled his shirt back down and grabbed the scout's dog tags, which were already warm from the sun, and flipped then over. My eyes widened when I read and recognized his name.

''Oh god,'' I whispered and let the dog tags fall back down on his chest.

How many years had it been? I looked back up at his face and tugged his cap off. He was bleeding from a small wound at his right temple. The blood had smeared on his cap and its trail left small clumps in his short hair. That was probably the reason he had passed out. I lay his cap next to his head before reaching for the water bottle I had in my bag, but something made me stop and tense up. The feeling of being watched crept into my head and made a delicate chill run slowly down my spine.

I stared down at the footprints in the desert sand. Footprints that defiantly hadn't been there before. The shape of them quickly gave away who they belonged to. The feeling of being watched erupted in my head and I stood up. The spy was here, I knew it.

When a knife was pressed against my back, I wasn't surprised; I had already expected this outcome.

''What do we 'ave 'ere?'' The venomous French accent purred into my ear. ''Ze little blue scout''

The RED spy pressed his knife closer to my back and laid his free hand on my left shoulder.

''Conaire? Where the hell did you go, you maggot!''

The spy hissed into my ear when a soldier appeared from behind a few large rocks. The RED soldier stopped and stared at the scene; the passed out scout and the spy with his knife against my back.

''Two scouts? But only one is ours,'' The soldier spoke to himself before walking closer to us, ''One of them isn't our color''

The solder looked back down at his teammate and scratched his neck. ''Is our guy still alive?''

I nodded but whimpered when the spy grabbed a first-full of my hair and pulled me down to my knees. The soldier didn't look like he cared much and simply picked the scout up easily. He nearly threw the wounded, young man over his shoulder before looking back at me.

''We'll take her with us. Maybe we can get some information out of her'' the soldier almost commanded before walking away. I couldn't believe what he had just said. The spy laughed while forcing me back up on my feet. He whispered something French into my ear and forced me along with him. I was now hostage and I hoped that the RED wouldn't treat me like my own team had treated some of the RED we had held captive in the past. What our spy had done to them seemed crueler then the most painful death. I shuddered when French words appeared in my ear.

''I don't speak French,'' I hissed at him and his grip on my hair tightened,

''I was just telling 'ou what I 'ould do too 'ou later,''

His words made sweat reappear on my forehead. I couldn't run because of his grip in my hair and I was too concerned about him, their scout, to even want to try.

''Mon amour, thinking about ze little scout?'' The spy whispered into my ear again, this time more amused. I felt my cheeks redden but I didn't say a word. I knew better than to play along with a spy's games.

'' Conaire, lock her in one of the cells and come back immediately. Don't even think about doing anything to her, yet!'' The soldier commanded while glaring. Conaire hissed something in French before dragging me in a different direction.

The RED base looked a lot like the BLUE. The only real difference was the colour of the team. Just like the BLUE base, the cells were small buildings of concrete hidden behind some large rocks that stood in the sand about 40 meters from the base. Conaire opened the door without a problem and dragged me inside the last cell. He lit a cigarette as he looked at me from the doorway.

''ze know, ma' little ma petite amie… I already 'ave a lot to do with 'ou'' he grinned as he looked at me. I looked at him with fear in my eyes. ''But, as ze dear colleagues said, I 'ave to hurry back'' he sighed as he walked closer to me, taking the half finished cigarette out of his mouth.

''But mon amour, I wouldn't leave without a goodbye,'' he grinned and his gloved, slender fingers locked around my throat with a firm but not tight enough to prevent me from breathing.

His grin grew before he blew smoke in my face. I coughed and closed my eyes. A sudden burning pain made me scream out loud in agony.

''Magnifique'' he hummed at the burn mark and left the cell grinning. The cell door slammed and I quickly fell down on my knees. I groaned pathetically and quickly pressed both hands against the burn mark while I could smell my own skin burning.

''Shit'' I murmured before I pressed my lips together when it stung and exhaled quickly. I somehow knew this wouldn't be the last burn wound I would get. I leaned my back against the wall. It was cold like the rest of the concrete. I sighed and took my cap off to rustle my hair. It was still curly, even after such a hot day. I covered my face with my hands; I knew I should never have joined this war. I had only been sent back out on the battle field to look for survivors. Well yeah, I had found one, but he wasn't the colour I could bring back. I had left my weapons with the others. They said I wouldn't need them when I would only be looking for survivors. I leaned my head back against the wall again. I could use those weapons now…

A/N

First of all, I hope you enjoy reading this.

Second, Conaire is Irish for red, and yes I know, the spy is French, but I couldn't find a French name that meant red.

Third, I know there no 'real' females in the game, except the admin. But she's kinda mysterious. BUT I saw someone else do it so now I'm gonna copy that a little.

Fourth, this WILL get mature, just so you know.

Fifth, I know you know, but I do NOT own Team Fortress 2.