Drabble #40
May. 25th, 2009 09:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sagesariaPrompt: #54: Intimidated
Fandom: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Suspense? Action? IDEK
Rating: PG
Notes: This one roller coasters from amazing to really could have been written better. And I had to rewrite what I had from October completely from scratch. Fun. But here it is, inspired a lot by Meet the Spy
The little rat got a head start, but Scout wasn't about to be outrun. He already knew where that Spy was heading; straight to the Intel room. He didn't know if he'd gotten a hold of the password or not, but he wasn't going to give him the chance to use it if he did; he could easily catch up to the RED intruder before he could punch in a number. Cocking his scattergun, he picked up speed, rounding the corner to catch up with the Spy.
But as he skidded to a halt in the hallway all he found was the locked door to the Intel room. He stood still, scanning the hall, and even the ceiling, but not seeing the enemy Spy. He tightened the grip on his gun, turning slowly to check the other way. He could have sworn he came this way...he couldn't have just disappeared.
At that moment an uneasy feeling crept over the Scout, as if somebody was breathing down his neck, and he whipped around, at last coming face to face with the RED Spy. Scout almost didn't notice that his heart stopped for a split second upon making eye contact, cold, emotionless eyes staring back at him. In fact while they stared at each other a moment, he almost forgot that he had a gun. Quickly regaining his senses he readied the scattergun, sidling a little closer for an easy shot.
"Don't move, pal!"
The Spy didn't react, seemingly unfazed by the demand. Then suddenly he lunged at Scout. The next thing the boy knew the suited intruder had cornered him against the wall, a tight grasp on his wrist, which he twisted sharply. He yelped at the sickening crack as the gun fell helplessly from his fingers. It wasn't until then that he also discovered the cold metal pressed against his throat. Aw, crap.
"I will say ze same to you, boy." the Spy hissed in a thick, French accent. It took all Scout could to keep his lip from trembling as he kept himself pressed against the wall, trying to evade the knife on his neck. He'd killed plenty of spies before, but he'd never had this close an encounter with one.
Slowly the Spy released the grip on his wrist. His arm went limp with relief, a dull throbbing in his wrist from the cruel hold on it. Giving Scout a knowing glare, the Spy also carefully withdrew his knife, reaching into an inner pocket of his fancy jacket.
"Put your hands behind your back."
Aww, shit. This was going worse than he thought. This was REALLY bad. For a moment Scout considered risking a yell for the team, but he knew the others were likely nowhere within earshot. Besides even if he tried, they'd only come running to find him with a cut throat outside the Intel room. Cursing under his breath he begrudgingly complied, turning to face the wall. He clenched his teeth, suddenly feeling rather claustrophobic. Which wasn't helped when his headset was yanked roughly off of his ear, and he felt a thin wire winding around his wrists, efficiently binding his hands behind him. A little too efficiently; he tensed as the metal twine dug dangerously into his skin. The Spy then grabbed him by the shirt collar, tugging him forward. Scout stumblingly followed, taking a few paces toward the safe door before he was kicked sharply in the back of the legs, knocking him painfully to his knees.
Gradually recomposing himself from the pain shooting through his legs, Scout lifted his head, watching as the Spy strode nonchalantly around him, lighting a cigarette. His verbal defenses rising, he snarled, sitting as upright as he could to snap at the Spy.
"Just get it over with, asshole."
"Believe me," Spy replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "If I had planned to keel you, you would not have a chance to say zat."
Resting the cigarette between his lips, he carefully slid a revolver out of a hidden holster. The decorated silver barrel glared in the light as he slowly loaded the cylinder.
"Here is how zees is going to work, boy. You are going to tell me ze passcode to get into ze vault. Then I am going to leave you here to watch your comrades die at my hands. Nothing is going to change zat."
He snapped the revolver closed, giving Scout an evil smirk.
"So do not make zees harder on yourself. What is ze code?"
"Fuck you." Scout snapped quickly. Spy cast him a glance, a strange look in his eyes.
"Tempting. But I do not have enough time."
He strode toward the Scout, squatting to look him in the eyes before blowing another wisp of smoke in his face. Scout turned away as much as he could, coughing at the tobacco smoke.
"Why are you askin' me anyway?" he barked, "If you're such a great Spy wouldn't you know the code already?"
Once again a knowing, wicked look crawled across the Spy's face. He extracted a silver case from his pocket and flipped it open, reaching for another cigarette.
"I had ozer matters on my hands." he flicked the cigarette case closed, "Quite literally."
A rippling effect like a mirage on the desert washed over him. Scout blinked, then his eyes went wide at the image of his mother now kneeling in front of him. The Spy's stare and smirk remained, but every detail otherwise was perfect, right down to her perfectly styled black bouffant, the cute blue dress she always wore around the house, Scout swore he could even smell her perfume.
His teeth clenched and he launched off of the balls of his feet to charge at the Spy in rage.
"YOU SON OF A--"
But the Spy merely grabbed his shoulder, forcing him back down.
"Ah ah ah, you stay right there."
God, he even had her voice down pat. He stood, once again circling the Scout, heels clicking on the floor.
"Your mother and I have been quite close for some time now. She talks about her sons all the time. Especially about you. Her little rabbit, she calls you. She always knew you were destined for great things...she often wonders how you are doing here in Dustbowl. You want to make her proud, yes?"
As he spoke he eventually stepped toward the vault door, peering at Scout over his shoulder. His face suddenly fell, the image of his mother becoming exaggeratedly sad.
"It would be a shame if something were to happen to you. Hearing about your death would just break her poor heart, wouldn't it. Oh how I would hate to be the one to tell her..."
Ma, how could you...? was all he could think. He remembered her disappearing a lot, saying she was going shopping. Was that where she went all the time? And now this....he couldn't just give him the code, but...would he really do that? It was one thing to die, but the thought of disappointing her suddenly was scarier than anything else in this situation.
He sighed, dropping his head to look at the floor.
"Alright." he said softly, defeated, "I'll tell you."
Spy smiled, satisfied, his disguise fading away. He flicked his cigarette away and came close to Scout again, kneeling and hooking a gloved hand under his chin, lifting his head.
"Yes?"
Scout was quiet another moment, then with a glare he spat harshly in Spy's face. The Spy recoiled, reflexively bringing a hand to his face, taken off guard. Upon realizing what had just happened, however, he tackled Scout, eyes wild.
"Petit merde!" he snarled. Scout flinched as the Spy grabbed him by the throat, the barrel of that fancy revolver shoved against his temple. Spy stared hard at him, his trigger finger frozen at the ready, watching the boy scrunch his eyes closed, waiting for the shot. His furious stare remained for a moment, before it softened into his traditional calm and he retracted the gun. Scout opened one eye, as if to see why he wasn't dead yet, only to be met by the butt of the gun across his face.
Spy slid a handkerchief out of his pocket, carefully cleaning his face, then wiping the blood from his gun where he had struck the Scout with it. Well, that had all gone according to plan. He didn't expect to get the code from him anyway, and now was his chance to slip into their ranks. He looked over the unconscious boy and made a face. Given a chance, he probably would have killed him for what he did. Furthermore he was BLU; it wasn't like he needed any other reason to kill him.
Still...he was hers. Her youngest son. Her little rabbit. He couldn't help but notice a slight similarity in his unconscious face to hers the times he watched her sleep. He sighed, realizing a slight twinge of guilt for what he had just done. She was his love, his petit choufleur. As he hid all his emotions on duty, he loved her. He couldn't help feeling some devotion to this little rat that was her son. He would hate to see her heart broken should he come to real harm. Especially if he was responsible for it.
But that was all it was. Devotion. For her sake.
He knelt over the boy, folding open his butterfly knife and carefully cutting the wire he bound him with. His wrists were already raw, but little blood was drawn. Perhaps it was a good thing he didn't resist too much. He looked over him again, then slowly found his handkerchief again, using a dry end of it to dab some of the blood away from his temple. Finally he hoisted the Scout over his shoulder, the illusion once again rippling over him as he disguised himself.
Fandom: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Suspense? Action? IDEK
Rating: PG
Notes: This one roller coasters from amazing to really could have been written better. And I had to rewrite what I had from October completely from scratch. Fun. But here it is, inspired a lot by Meet the Spy
The little rat got a head start, but Scout wasn't about to be outrun. He already knew where that Spy was heading; straight to the Intel room. He didn't know if he'd gotten a hold of the password or not, but he wasn't going to give him the chance to use it if he did; he could easily catch up to the RED intruder before he could punch in a number. Cocking his scattergun, he picked up speed, rounding the corner to catch up with the Spy.
But as he skidded to a halt in the hallway all he found was the locked door to the Intel room. He stood still, scanning the hall, and even the ceiling, but not seeing the enemy Spy. He tightened the grip on his gun, turning slowly to check the other way. He could have sworn he came this way...he couldn't have just disappeared.
At that moment an uneasy feeling crept over the Scout, as if somebody was breathing down his neck, and he whipped around, at last coming face to face with the RED Spy. Scout almost didn't notice that his heart stopped for a split second upon making eye contact, cold, emotionless eyes staring back at him. In fact while they stared at each other a moment, he almost forgot that he had a gun. Quickly regaining his senses he readied the scattergun, sidling a little closer for an easy shot.
"Don't move, pal!"
The Spy didn't react, seemingly unfazed by the demand. Then suddenly he lunged at Scout. The next thing the boy knew the suited intruder had cornered him against the wall, a tight grasp on his wrist, which he twisted sharply. He yelped at the sickening crack as the gun fell helplessly from his fingers. It wasn't until then that he also discovered the cold metal pressed against his throat. Aw, crap.
"I will say ze same to you, boy." the Spy hissed in a thick, French accent. It took all Scout could to keep his lip from trembling as he kept himself pressed against the wall, trying to evade the knife on his neck. He'd killed plenty of spies before, but he'd never had this close an encounter with one.
Slowly the Spy released the grip on his wrist. His arm went limp with relief, a dull throbbing in his wrist from the cruel hold on it. Giving Scout a knowing glare, the Spy also carefully withdrew his knife, reaching into an inner pocket of his fancy jacket.
"Put your hands behind your back."
Aww, shit. This was going worse than he thought. This was REALLY bad. For a moment Scout considered risking a yell for the team, but he knew the others were likely nowhere within earshot. Besides even if he tried, they'd only come running to find him with a cut throat outside the Intel room. Cursing under his breath he begrudgingly complied, turning to face the wall. He clenched his teeth, suddenly feeling rather claustrophobic. Which wasn't helped when his headset was yanked roughly off of his ear, and he felt a thin wire winding around his wrists, efficiently binding his hands behind him. A little too efficiently; he tensed as the metal twine dug dangerously into his skin. The Spy then grabbed him by the shirt collar, tugging him forward. Scout stumblingly followed, taking a few paces toward the safe door before he was kicked sharply in the back of the legs, knocking him painfully to his knees.
Gradually recomposing himself from the pain shooting through his legs, Scout lifted his head, watching as the Spy strode nonchalantly around him, lighting a cigarette. His verbal defenses rising, he snarled, sitting as upright as he could to snap at the Spy.
"Just get it over with, asshole."
"Believe me," Spy replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "If I had planned to keel you, you would not have a chance to say zat."
Resting the cigarette between his lips, he carefully slid a revolver out of a hidden holster. The decorated silver barrel glared in the light as he slowly loaded the cylinder.
"Here is how zees is going to work, boy. You are going to tell me ze passcode to get into ze vault. Then I am going to leave you here to watch your comrades die at my hands. Nothing is going to change zat."
He snapped the revolver closed, giving Scout an evil smirk.
"So do not make zees harder on yourself. What is ze code?"
"Fuck you." Scout snapped quickly. Spy cast him a glance, a strange look in his eyes.
"Tempting. But I do not have enough time."
He strode toward the Scout, squatting to look him in the eyes before blowing another wisp of smoke in his face. Scout turned away as much as he could, coughing at the tobacco smoke.
"Why are you askin' me anyway?" he barked, "If you're such a great Spy wouldn't you know the code already?"
Once again a knowing, wicked look crawled across the Spy's face. He extracted a silver case from his pocket and flipped it open, reaching for another cigarette.
"I had ozer matters on my hands." he flicked the cigarette case closed, "Quite literally."
A rippling effect like a mirage on the desert washed over him. Scout blinked, then his eyes went wide at the image of his mother now kneeling in front of him. The Spy's stare and smirk remained, but every detail otherwise was perfect, right down to her perfectly styled black bouffant, the cute blue dress she always wore around the house, Scout swore he could even smell her perfume.
His teeth clenched and he launched off of the balls of his feet to charge at the Spy in rage.
"YOU SON OF A--"
But the Spy merely grabbed his shoulder, forcing him back down.
"Ah ah ah, you stay right there."
God, he even had her voice down pat. He stood, once again circling the Scout, heels clicking on the floor.
"Your mother and I have been quite close for some time now. She talks about her sons all the time. Especially about you. Her little rabbit, she calls you. She always knew you were destined for great things...she often wonders how you are doing here in Dustbowl. You want to make her proud, yes?"
As he spoke he eventually stepped toward the vault door, peering at Scout over his shoulder. His face suddenly fell, the image of his mother becoming exaggeratedly sad.
"It would be a shame if something were to happen to you. Hearing about your death would just break her poor heart, wouldn't it. Oh how I would hate to be the one to tell her..."
Ma, how could you...? was all he could think. He remembered her disappearing a lot, saying she was going shopping. Was that where she went all the time? And now this....he couldn't just give him the code, but...would he really do that? It was one thing to die, but the thought of disappointing her suddenly was scarier than anything else in this situation.
He sighed, dropping his head to look at the floor.
"Alright." he said softly, defeated, "I'll tell you."
Spy smiled, satisfied, his disguise fading away. He flicked his cigarette away and came close to Scout again, kneeling and hooking a gloved hand under his chin, lifting his head.
"Yes?"
Scout was quiet another moment, then with a glare he spat harshly in Spy's face. The Spy recoiled, reflexively bringing a hand to his face, taken off guard. Upon realizing what had just happened, however, he tackled Scout, eyes wild.
"Petit merde!" he snarled. Scout flinched as the Spy grabbed him by the throat, the barrel of that fancy revolver shoved against his temple. Spy stared hard at him, his trigger finger frozen at the ready, watching the boy scrunch his eyes closed, waiting for the shot. His furious stare remained for a moment, before it softened into his traditional calm and he retracted the gun. Scout opened one eye, as if to see why he wasn't dead yet, only to be met by the butt of the gun across his face.
Spy slid a handkerchief out of his pocket, carefully cleaning his face, then wiping the blood from his gun where he had struck the Scout with it. Well, that had all gone according to plan. He didn't expect to get the code from him anyway, and now was his chance to slip into their ranks. He looked over the unconscious boy and made a face. Given a chance, he probably would have killed him for what he did. Furthermore he was BLU; it wasn't like he needed any other reason to kill him.
Still...he was hers. Her youngest son. Her little rabbit. He couldn't help but notice a slight similarity in his unconscious face to hers the times he watched her sleep. He sighed, realizing a slight twinge of guilt for what he had just done. She was his love, his petit choufleur. As he hid all his emotions on duty, he loved her. He couldn't help feeling some devotion to this little rat that was her son. He would hate to see her heart broken should he come to real harm. Especially if he was responsible for it.
But that was all it was. Devotion. For her sake.
He knelt over the boy, folding open his butterfly knife and carefully cutting the wire he bound him with. His wrists were already raw, but little blood was drawn. Perhaps it was a good thing he didn't resist too much. He looked over him again, then slowly found his handkerchief again, using a dry end of it to dab some of the blood away from his temple. Finally he hoisted the Scout over his shoulder, the illusion once again rippling over him as he disguised himself.
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