#zebluspy

The marksman had been focused down his sight, watching the action from his perch and waiting for the perfect chance to strike. What he hadn't expected was a sneaky spook to lurk up behind him. He should have known better at this point in his career to check for Spies, but that day, he was lacking spacial awareness. When the Spy spoke so suddenly, Sniper jumped and spun around, kukri in hand.

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ With a sigh and a heave, the Pyro sets down his flamethrower and takes off the gas canister on his back in favor of lifting the Spy over his shoulders in a fireman carry. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest way to be handling him, considering where his wound was, but with the enemy advancing and Medic out of earshot, he simply didn’t have time to take it slow and safe; hopefully, the pressure of his shoulders against the wound would at least help stave off the bleeding until he could get him to a medkit, or a dispenser, or, if he wasn’t dead yet, a medic.

         The arsonist mumbled something to Spy, unknown in words but soothing in tone, and then began to march. He was unarmed as he did this now, arms focused on keeping his team mate steady, so it was up to Spy and his revolver to keep and attack anything that dared come near them.

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Momotaro had to ask, “...what is, blue spy...?”

A waddle dee quickly explained, “Wanya wanya wanya! Wanya wanya!”

“...oh...i see.”

After getting, a piece of paper, a borrowed turtle neck, and a costume tie, Momotaro presents himself...with a very awkward French accent.

“A-Ahem...Bonjour! I am...pretend to be, your friend! But...I will hurt you! Because, I am...ze, oh never ze mind.”

He raises a plastic toy knife...but then tumbles over because of the sheet of paper in front of his face. Back to the usual attempting to speak English...with his Japanese accent,

It was a raining night. Everyone should be at home and bundled up in their blankets and enjoying hot chocolate. Not him though. That feeling was long gone. He stood in the rain on the roof of a low building, shrouded in darkness, watching them from a distance. The Shadow doesn’t mind getting wet and his hat was his source of protection despite raindrops dripping down on his mask when he tilts his head back, as if being kissed.

Red lens peered through the binoculars, watching his target making conversation with what could be their informer or possibly a snitch. His job currently is to shadow them until any further notice to make a move.

One thing for sure that after lights out, no one would ever think of trying to fight in the middle of the night. Except for one though.

Once Natasha switched her table lamp on without making a sound, a cold blade kissed against her throat and she was locking eyes on the man himself hovering over her.

“What the bloody hell think you’re doing at this time of night?” Because Spy never saw her face with her mask and eyepatch on, there he can see her bionic eye - with it’s green ‘pupil’ glowing brightly at him - the burn scars covering the left side of her face to the corner of her right side and more importantly the wide side grin she bore on the left side as well a decapitation scar around her neck where the blade is. He can also see that her left arm was missing, having it resting on her bedside table.