#ellofic

“Let me in there! Let me do it!” The RED Scout tried to shove his way past his teammates, desperate for this task. “I hate that friggin’ guy, I can totally knock out all’a his teeth.”

The RED Spy pulled him back from the door by his collar. “No, this requires a delicate hand-”

“Delicate! It’s torture, Spy, not a tea party!”

“Yes, but you misunderstand-”

“What about a tea party!” Soldier screamed.

“What’s to understand? We gotta make him talk-”

“There is a formular to this, this is a skill not some street brawl-”

“I’ll show you a street brawl!” Soldier reached for Scout’s neck.

“Soldier, stop!” Spy hissed. “We need to question the Scout!”

“Oh,” Soldier smiled. “That’s easy!”

He kept his grip on Scout’s neck and began throttling him. “Tell me your secrets!”

Spy tried to get Soldier off Scout, “Not our Scout!”

Soldier knocked Spy aside, the Frenchman bristled all over and pulled his knife out. As Scout was struggling to break free, he smacked Demoman in the face. The Scotsman frowned and pushed Scout back. Scout retaliated, hitting Demo with one hand while trying to pry Soldier off of him.

Medic walked in brandishing a syringe. “I have crafted a truth serum!”

“Docktor?”

“Yes, Heavy?”

“Is that actual truth serum or will it kill leetle Scout?”

Medic shrugged. “It’s fifty-fifty.”

“Can we please knock if off!” Engineer shouted over the brawl.

With a shake of his head, Sniper pushed past his fighting teammates and into the small closet where they were keeping the enemy Scout.

“Hey, no fair!” RED Scout suddenly pulled free of Soldier’s hold. “I wanted to torture him!”

Spy scoffed, “That idiot has no idea what he’s doing, he’s going to compromise the whole mission!”

A sharp yelp cut through the conversation, followed by a long groan. 

“I supposed Stretch knows a thing or two about gettin’ folk to talk,” Engineer conceded.

“He does have a certain personality for it,” Medic agreed.

“You mean mental illness,” Spy spat back.

Another yelp came from the closet followed by, “Okay! Okay! Jeez, fine!”

Each mercenary on the other side of the door stepped a little closer, curiosity piqued. Then the doorknob turned and each scrambled back into place.

Sniper stepped out of the closet. “Intel’s underground.”

“How do you know he’s not lying?” Spy asked, skeptical.

“Fairly certain,” Sniper mumbled.

“The boy is resilient I doubt you actually got the truth out of him, allow me to pull a few teeth-” Spy made to enter the closet but Sniper quickly stepped back in.

From behind the door they heard, “Fuck! No! Please, please, please, oh god, please!”

Sniper came back out. “Yeah, he ain’t lyin’.”

His team stood back, mouths agape, and each feeling slightly inadequate.

Heavy’s eyes narrowed. “How did you-”

“How’d you friggin’ do that!” Scout demanded.

Sniper shrugged. “I can be persuasive.”

“Well, let’s get’ta planning,” Engineer clapped his hands together, and reached for some blueprints. “He tell you how to get underground?”

Everyone looked to Sniper.

The Australian silently walked back into the closet and shut the door behind him.

It was quiet for some time, so quiet that Scout and Soldier both pressed their ears against the door, eager to know what tactic could make the enemy talk. All they could hear were labored breaths.

“It don’t sound like he’s breakin’ kneecaps or nothin’,” Scout complained.

Spy stubbed out a cigarette and mumbled, “Probably using his own piss to-”

A loud scream cut Spy off.

Sniper emerged. “Entrance through the sewers, in the northwest.”

Engineer smiled. “Great, so we can make a beeline for, uh, what about sentries?”

Sniper turned on his heel and reentered the closet.

This time the BLU Scout immediately started speaking. “Oh god, c’mon! Enough! I can’t take anymore! Gimme that friggin’ doctor again!”

His shouts devolved into yelps and groans, and soon frantic begging.

Sniper returned. “We can expect at least two level three sentries and a Heavy. We got what we need? Can we cut the mongrel loose?”

“Yeah, I think we’re all set,” Engineer said.

Sniper pulled his knife from the sheath on his belt and entered the closet for one last time. This time he didn’t shut the door and the team watched as Sniper cut the ropes restraining the enemy. Each man was shocked to see the BLU Scout in perfect condition.

“You’re not killing baby man?” Heavy asked, his voice full of disapproval.

“You did not even break skin!” Medic complained.

Sniper made a dismissive grunt.

The team watched the BLU Scout stand and slowly and cautiously walk up to their Sniper.

He scratched the back of his neck and mumble, “So, uh, I got, uh maybe some more information if you, uh, wanna question me some more?”

Sniper made another grunt but nodded toward the exit. The enemy Scout trailed after the marksman, less cautious and more excited.

“What?” RED Scout looked to his teammates. Each man was looking away, a slight blush over their cheeks. “I don’t get it? He’s got more info? And he’s just gonna let Sniper torture it outta him? What the hell?”

“Scout, please shut up,” Spy sighed, and shut his eyes.

“No! What’s the deal? I don’t get it- Oohh,” it finally dawned on Scout. “He was doing sex stuff to him.”

Sniper fidgeted with his tie, straightening it out, then loosened it a little bit. Everyone else had left. He sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets, then pulled one out and let it hover over Spy’s shoulder before putting it back in his pocket.

“The gravestone is not ready yet. It will be another few weeks before it’s placed.” Spy said.

He didn’t sound upset.

Throughout this whole thing he’d been fine. At the wake he made appropriate small talk, during the funeral he sat in the front row and helped Scout’s mother console the kids, he threw his handful of dirt on the casket at the burial without so much as a second glance.

Despite Sniper’s aversion to emotional displays and heavy conversations, he wished Spy would have an outburst. This lack of reaction felt so much worse.

“Uh, do you want to head out? The repass is back at his house, um, the kids would probably want you there.” Sniper looked away, unable to even look at the back of Spy’s head.

“No, I’d like a few more minutes here…with Jeremy.” Spy shook his head, “Well, I suppose that’s impossible now.”

Sniper took his hand out and confidently placed it on Spy’s shoulder. “It’s not.”

“It is. That is…that’s not Jeremy, it’s just a body.”

“No, that’s not what I  mean,” Sniper said softly, he stepped closer to face Spy. “I know you don’t like when I bring this up, and I know you don’t believe me but, it’s real, love. You’ll see him again. And you’ll get more than a few minutes, you’ll get a whole eternity.”

Spy paused and took a deep breath before speaking. “Mick, even if it is real, I would not end up there.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’ve done too many terrible things.”

“Why do you always do that!” Heavy yelled, balling his fists to try and contain his anger.

“Do what? It’s nothing!” Medic placed his hand on Heavy’s arm.

Heavy turned his face away with a pout. He took another step forward in line. “Why do you even care if they know?”

“I don’t,” Medic replied. “But why do we have to explicitly state it.”

Heavy huffed and turned fully away from Medic.

“Come on!” Medic pulled on Heavy’s arm. He put on a sweet tone, “You cannot stay angry with me.”

Heavy refused to acknowledge him, taking another step forward in line.

“Heavy, come now,” Medic tried giving his best puppy dog eyes. The Russian didn’t even look. “What if I get you two scoops.”

No reply.

“With hot fudge?” Medic offered, voice as sweet and sugary as the ice cream they were waiting for. “And a cherry on top?”

Heavy turned slightly, just enough for the doctor to be in his eyeline. And that was enough, Medic was in the clear. They waited patiently for the line to move, for their cones, and soon they were back outside, happy as clams.

“All better, then?” Medic asked.

“For now,” Heavy said, trying to maintain some self-respect. “But no more bossing me around.”

“Oh, Heavy,” Medic hummed. He plucked the cherry off the top of Heavy’s ice cream cone and plopped it in his mouth, stem and all.

Sniper chuckled. No, it was a little closer to a divisive snort. It was the best, and only, thing he could do in his current position.

He could hear Spy behind him, shifting uncomfortably in his fancy, leather, highbacked chair. He wanted to turn his head and look the Frenchman in the eye, to remark on the sneeze and the break in Spy's dominate demeanor, but that was out of the question. That would land him in even worse trouble.

“Hmm, it must be dusty in here.” Spy stated.

Sniper heard him place his drink down, heard him stand and adjust his suit jacket. The marksman braced himself with a large intake of air. That air leaked out of him a low hiss as Spy stepped on his bare back, digging his heels in. Two more steps and Spy was off of him, on the other side of the room.

Sniper tried to track his movements, but the iron collar bolting him to the floor kept his head in place. He flexed his hands, also bound by thick, metal brackets, screwed into the floor and preventing him from any significant movement.

Spy took three steps back over him, baring down on each footfall and knocking the air out of Sniper’s lungs.

Now Sniper could see what Spy was doing. He was holding a rug beater.

Engineer stood patiently outside of the little diner, a smile tugging at his lips. He should be annoyed, he should be storming into the diner and demanding one of everything on the menu. After driving all day and night he was starving, not the mention the agonizing two hours they lost in traffic before hitting empty desert roads.

“All clear?” Engie asked Solider as he rounded the diner corner, lowering his shovel.

“Affirmative. I have swept the perimeter and there are no signs of the enemy.”

“Well, that’s good cause if I don’t get a meal soon I’m like to start shooting. and I'd rather not drop a civilian.”

Soldier slung his arm around Engineer, “I will cover you!”

The Texan chuckled as he led Solider through the double doors. The waitress behind the counter told them to sit anywhere and the two men choose a booth toward the back. The menus were already on the table, Engie took one glance and knew what he wanted. Soldier on the other hand, was carefully inspecting each line of each page, trying to make out the words.

“Do they have ribs?” Soldier finally asked.

“It’s a diner, they got everything, darlin’.”

Soldier shut the menu and slid it away from him just as the waitress arrived.

“What can I for y’all?” She had her pen poised and ready.

“Eggs benedict, please,” Engineer asked.

“Benedict!” Soldier yelled, hands slamming on the table. “You’re ordering a traitor’s breakfast!”

“Well, technically-” Engineer tried to soothe him.

“I will not have it!” Soldier exclaimed, making the waitress jump.

“Okay, okay,” Engineer handed his menu over. “A western omelet then.”

The woman looked relieved as she wrote his order down. “And for you, sir?”

“Eggs benedict,” Soldier said.

“Now hold on a second!” Engie started but Soldier cut him off.

“What? I’m going to defeat him at his own game.”

Engineer chuckled. “Darlin’, what I’d pay to live a day in your brain.”