Alarm bells rang throughout the base, and the BLU Soldier gripped the security console with sweaty hands, staring up at the display in a desperate attempt to get it to divulge its secrets. Amid the rows and rows of darkened signs, only three were lit: the first read 'INTRUDER ALERT', the second said 'RED SPY', and on the third was written 'IN BASE'.
But... what could it mean?!
Curse this fiendish, inscrutable device! It had obviously been designed by Communists or, even worse, Liberal Arts Majors! How was an average red-blooded leatherneck supposed to wrap his strong American freedom brain around such a cryptic code? He hadn't fought in multiple wars (not officially, but as a conscientious assenter) just to be stymied by the foundations of sentence construction!
"Intruder alert!" The familiar rough, female voice echoed over the loudspeaker system "A RED Spy is in the base!" He tried to tone it out; all this noise was ruining his concentration!
...wait! That message... could it hold a subtle clue? His grip intensified until his knuckles turned white as he tried to process the horrific, impossible secrets laid out before him.
No... it couldn't be true! "A RED Spy is in the base?!"
He turned and hurried down the stairs toward the intelligence room, trusty shotgun in hand. "Protect the briefcase!" directed the loudspeaker, as though to make sure the Soldier didn't forget what he was doing.
Thanks, voice in my head! "We need to protect the briefcase!"
"You there! Inferior creature!" Soldier turned to see the BLU Scout wrestling with the door to the intelligence. "Open this door for me immediately. I command it!"
Somewhere between Soldier's ears and his brain (which was a surprisingly long trip), those words turned into 'Please help me, Soldier! I'm actually an otter in a human suit, and cannot do things for myself!' and he scowled at the smaller man. "This is no time for lollygagging, Scout! Don't you realize there's a RED Spy in the base?!"
"There is still a RED Spy in the base," the loudspeaker announced pointedly.
"My God, there's two of them!"
The apparent Scout raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Lollygagging? Of course I know there's..." He stopped and looked down at his slim, wiry and blue-clad form. "...oh! So it does... Hm-hmm, yeeeesss! Subterfuge." He tittered and tapped his fingertips together fiendishly. "How delightful. Ahem! Yes. I am this... 'Scout' of which you speak."
Despite the circumstances, Soldier couldn't help but laugh at his teammate's juvenile antics. "Hah! You sure are!" He pushed the obvious Scout aside. "All right, I got it. Stand back, son."
As he carefully entered the keypad's intricate code, the Scout processed this statement. "Oh. All right..."
"One, one, one..."
"...um... dad."
This was odd enough to cut through Soldier's perpetual fog of patriotism, tinnitus and self-inflicted concussions. His finger stopped in mid-air, and he peered suspiciously at the certainly Scout from beneath his helmet. "...one," he said finally, pushing the well-worn button without taking his eyes off his teammate. Something seemed fishy here, and that was apart from the fact that Scout smelled of moat water...
Scout suddenly frowned. "Do you feel an earthquake?"
"IIIINCOOOOMIIIIING!"
They turned to see the team's Heavy barrelling toward them in an unstoppable run, a textbook example of inertia as it applies to meat. There was no room to dodge, no time to evade; bellowing defiance, the Heavy smashed through the unlocked door, carrying them along with him. His precious minigun whirred in readiness as he looked around in search of a target. "YAAAAAAAAA...!"
The heavily battered Scout found himself at the edge of the room's single desk, and as he picked himself up he looked at the large rectangular object under his hand. "Wha... oh! This must be it!"
"...AAAAaaaaaall right, then."
"Ahem." The discreet clearing of the throat and the crunch of fine shoe leather on glass caught everyone's attention. "Gentlemen?" The teammates watched as the BLU Spy carefully entered the room, carrying a body on one shoulder. For some reason, the Scout stared particularly keenly at the man. "I see the briefcase is safe?"
"Safe and sound," Soldier agreed.
"You know, it could be safer," suggested the actual Scout. "Perhaps I should take it to a place more-"
"Tell me," Spy said, ignoring this. "Did anyone happen to kill a RED Spy on the way here?" He looked around at their shrugs and noncommittal expressions. "No? Then we still have a problem," he concluded darkly, dumping the corpse of the BLU Sniper on the desk.
"And a knife," the Soldier observed, noticing the weapon lodged in the Sniper's back.
Thinking fast, the Scout retrieved the knife and fumbled with it for a moment. "You know," he said finally, "perhaps I did, er... dispose of a Spy earlier. He seemed completely unimportant and not worth looking for, so I barely remember him. I... think he looked rather like m-" Scout stopped himself quickly, accidentally cutting himself in the sudden hesitation. "Ow! ...like you?"
With a condescending smile, Spy took the butterfly knife away from the Scout, folded it with well-practiced motions, and handed it back. "If you managed to kill him," Spy said, "I assure you, he was not like me." He stepped away from the group, pacing self-importantly. "And nothing... nothing like the man loose inside this building!"
The Heavy and Soldier looked at each other in alarm, and the definite Scout tried to defuse the situation. "Oh, you're exaggerating," he scoffed. "Is this creature really that impressive?"
Spy stopped and whirled, suddenly invading his teammate's personal space. "I don't know, Scout," he said with exaggerated politeness. "Perhaps we should ask... your mother!"
He raised a dossier high, then threw it on the desk (which, considering the briefcase and corpse already there, was getting rather crowded.) Photos spilled from a folder reading 'TOP SECRET - SCOUT'S MOM', and on the photos were...
Scout's brow furrowed as he looked at them. "What... are these?" he muttered. "They're so... hairless. Wait... are they... doing what I think they're...?" His eyes grew wide when he realized that yes, yes they were. "Euuugh!" he exclaimed. "How revolting!"
"Indeed. And now he's here to buck us!" the Spy said, or at least the Scout thought the Spy said. The assassin struck his teammate's arm roughly, but not forcefully. "So listen up, boy! Or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing that happens to you today."
"Pone... what?" Scout asked, mystified. Behind him, he heard Soldier's intrigued "Oh!". He whirled around, quickly snatching up the photo in the larger man's hand. "Don't look, father!"
The Spy took a drag from a freshly lit cigarette. "This Spy has already breached our defenses. Earlier, I found the body of the Engineer... or what was left of it."
Scout's brow furrowed. "...who?"
"No!" Soldier gasped. "Not the hardhat!"
"...oh, him." The Scout looked distinctly pale and nauseated.
"He was good man," rumbled the Heavy sadly. "Very dedicated."
Soldier nodded briskly. "You're damn right. Once he had his sentry set up, you couldn't move him with an entrenching tool and high explosives! And I should know! Why, he was so focused, he would never even turn around, no matter what was happening around him! That's how you know he was a real Engie. Turtle up until you die, that's their motto!"
"I will miss the way he would set up at last control point as soon as battle started, no matter how much we needed teleporters. Was great reassurance knowing that when enemy pushed through our lines due to lack of supplies and reinforcements, he would be there for us."
"Well, now he'll be there for us at the Pearly Gates!" snarled the Spy. "And hopefully they have buckets, because he was blown to pieces by his own sentry!"
"Oh, please," the Scout scoffed. "That wasn't the RED Spy's fault." The others looked at him curiously; he hesitated, then plunged on. "That is to say... how could he have even done something like that? Is this, er, 'sentry device' so easy to control? What kind of spell did he use?"
The Soldier and Heavy chuckled at this (which confused the Scout), but the BLU Spy waved this off. "Some kind of fiendish new gadget, I assume." He paused, and gave his teammate a closer inspection. "...unless you have a better explanation, Scout?"
"...er..."
"You there!" The RED Spy stepped into the BLU base through the doorway leading to the sewer, still dripping with moat water. "I order you to lead me to this 'intelligence' immediately!"
"Whut? Nothin' doin', Spy," the Engineer grunted, hammering a final component into position. His back was to the Spy, which made Spy's right hand itch for some reason. "I got my sentry in front of me and my dispenser behind me, and I ain't movin' for nothin' until that RED Spy gets-"
The sentry lurched as it abruptly sprouted bigger guns and rocket launchers. It chirped three times... then twice more, urgently, and swiftly pivoted 180 degrees. The Engineer stared at it, then looked over his shoulder just far enough to see a glimpse of red. "...darn," he said, which as final words go was pretty unimpressive.
A sudden instinct made the Spy drop for cover behind the glowing blue box in front of him, and he stayed huddled there as the sentry unleashed a storm of destruction in his direction. Blood and various body parts rained down around him, and a kidney bounced off his shoulder, adding a bit more redness to the fabric. Eventually the sentry would run out of ammunition, but until then the Spy was content to sit there hugging his knees, trying to ignore the soft patter of exsanguination.
The Scout spread his hands helplessly. "...it was an accident, maybe?"
"...an accident?" the Spy asked incredulously. He gestured at the corpse on the desk. "You see what he's done to our colleague! Was that an accident as well?!"
"Ow! Piss off!"
"Look, I'm not being unreasonable here," the RED Spy said sternly. "I just need you to stop doing... whatever it is you think you're doing, and take me to where the briefcase is."
"And I'm tellin' you to piss off!" the BLU Sniper shot back, metaphorically speaking. "I ain't goin' on patrol with you right now. I'm waitin' for our target to pop his bloomin' head out."
The Spy peered across the battlefield, where the RED base battlements were completely empty. "...there's nobody there."
"Oh, he'll show," Sniper said with a chuckle. "He'll show. And when he does... that's all she wrote. Ow!"
"And... you're just going to stay here, staring through your... pipe... thing until he does?"
"Too right. Ow! So I'd appreciate it," the Sniper concluded angrily, "if you'd stop punching my bloody back, you tosser!"
"Oh. Yes. Fair enough. Not sure what's wrong with my arm," the Spy added, trying to get the offending limb under control. "Seeing you there, crouched down and motionless, seems to really make it want to do that."
The Sniper snorted in derision. "Could you try to keep yer backstabbin' impulses to yourself? At least until you're out of arm's reach?"
"...yes, yes, have it your way." He forced his hand down to his side, and took a moment to feel the breeze. "It's... nice up here," he said in a rare moment of introspection. It had been a while since he'd been out in the open like this.
"...heh. Yeah," the Sniper agreed. "All the better without you lightin' up one of your smokes, right? Word to the wise."
At the word 'smoke', the Spy's hand leapt into his suit's inner pocket and pulled out a flat metal case. He scowled down at it and forced it back. He'd noticed the case earlier; half of it was mysterious, and the other was a storage space for small white cylinders that smelled bad yet enticing and tasted just awful. He didn't see the point. "Er, yes."
Its deeply ingrained muscle memory frustrated, the Spy's hand slipped into another pocket and gripped what it found there, waiting for an opportunity.
"Look, mate," said the Sniper with a sigh, "much as I cherish this little moment, we've both got a job to do, yeah?"
"Do we? I mean... yes, of course." The Spy gave up, and looked around absently. "Is there anyone else that could help me? Preferably," he added with a shudder, "someone who isn't standing next to a large and deadly explosion machine?"
"Well, there's-"
"Achtung! SPY!"
The Spy and Sniper looked up at the far end of the battlements, where a tall figure in a lab coat was pointing an accusatory finger in their direction. "Ze Spy is a double agent!" he shouted.
Sniper's eyes widened. "You what-?"
But the distraction had been enough. Even as the RED Spy stared in surprise at the BLU Medic, wondering why he seemed so agitated, his arm had gone up, and his arm had gone down.
The Sniper's scream snapped him out of his confusion, and he looked down at the knife in the bushman's back. "What the...? How did...? Did I...?!" He lifted his hand and glared at it. "Why did you do that?!"
Then the Medic raised his bonesaw and charged with a ferocious cry of "Raus! RAUS!" Seeing the gangly figure bearing down on him, with not even a knife to protect himself, the Spy lost his nerve, and fled back into the building. "Don't run!" the Medic mock-pleaded. "I can find a use for all of your internal organs!"
"...more of a... reflex, than an accident," the Scout said finally. "Possibly."
The Spy swung an arm backwards and slammed a fist against the large glass window that formed one wall of the intel room. "Scout, this is serious! We cannot underestimate this Spy! He is cunning! He is ruthless! And worst of all.. he could be any one of-"
"Oh, and that fellow in the long coat fell down some stairs. Hypothetically, of course."
It wasn't often that the Spy was completely derailed in mid-drama. "...what?"
He just... fell down the stairs.
The Spy peered down the stairwell at the shadowed lump at the bottom. He'd fled screaming - that is, he'd escaped while maintaining proper composure, yes - and had ducked into what had seemed to be some kind of shed overlooking the base's inner courtyard. He had only barely avoided falling down the long, long stairway just inside, and during the moment he was regaining his balance, the Medic had come charging after him, all thoughts of personal safety completely banished from his mind. They had collided, there was a complicated yet reflexive interaction of limbs and grips, and the Medic... just... fell. And still he laughed, a being gloriously freed from every incessant demand of his teammates, until the laughter stopped.
He regarded the corpse a moment longer, then snorted. Seeing another creature perish didn't bother him much - especially not compared to what had happened to the one in the hardhat - and this was almost certainly self-defense. So falls (literally) whoever dares threaten... whoever he happened to be currently! He still wasn't completely clear on that, but with any luck that wouldn't matter for long.
The Spy sighed and slouched against the wall. "This is intolerable," he groused. "All I want is a stupid briefcase! Why is every creature here being so difficult about it? Don't they recognize royalty when they see it?"
And then he frowned. "Though come to think of it... the first two never actually looked at me, did they? And the third attacked as soon as he saw me." He looked down at himself. "...is it simply because of these garments? Do they hate me because I'm wearing a better color? I almost feel offended. Well, I can see there needs to be some significant changes once I conquer this miserable world! Everyone will be red! See how they like that! HAH!" He hesitated. "Wait, no, they probably would like that. New plan! Nobody gets to be red but me! Hah HAH!"
He basked in his gloriously evil scheme for a moment, then the moment passed. "...nevertheless, I still need that intelligence. Not that anyone here has displayed any," he added, certain that a joke of such high caliber had never been used before. "But I'd rather not get attacked again. If the color I'm wearing is the issue, perhaps there is a way to change that... And put that away, you ridiculous thing!"
This was directed at his own hand, which had pulled out the metal case once again. "I don't need that!" he shouted at it. "I don't know what those things are for! I'm not even hungry! Get it out of my sight!" He slapped at it with the back of his other hand...
...and red mist boiled out of the thing, covering him from head to toe before he could blink. When it faded, however, nothing seemed to have changed.
"Well, that was unex-" The Spy stopped, puzzled, and rubbed his throat. "I sound... different. Almost like..." He glanced at the stairwell for a moment, then took a breath. "Ze Spy is a double agent!" He blinked. "Yes, exactly like him. But how..."
He peered down at the case again, and saw that the previously blank piece of glass now displayed the words: 'CURRENT DISGUISE: BLU MEDIC'
"...interesting. Some kind of changeling spell?" He tried pushing more buttons, causing more waves of red vapor to flow out of the device. Close examination revealed that when the mist dissipated, some of it remained as a kind of second skin, following his every movement. He could easily see through it, however.
"Hmph. Not much of a disguise if it only changes my voice." He snapped the case shut and put it away. "Though this one sounds younger. Perhaps they'll think I'm one of their young and won't attack so readily. Now all I need to do is find the wretched intelligence. And I have no idea where to-"
He stopped and looked slightly upward. There was a large blue sign just a few hooflengths in front of him, with the word 'INTELLIGENCE' written on it. An arrow helpfully pointed down the stairwell.
"...oh. Good. Very well, then."
"Scout, what did you do to the Medic?!"
"I did nothing!" the Scout protested. "He fell down the stairs! It was a tragic accident that he absolutely didn't deserve!" He looked at the other two in the room. "You... fellows know how clumsy he always was, don't you?"
"Yes!" the Soldier agreed immediately. "I have no specific recollection of his clumsiness, but you are saying it so there is a good chance I will believe it!" For his part, the Heavy seemed unconvinced, but not to the point of disagreement.
"He was a surgeon!" Spy growled. "They are not known for-"
"I'm gonna miss ol' Fumblefingers," Soldier mused sadly.
"Me too, father. Me too."
A muscle twitched under the Spy's eye. "Don't you idiots realize how close we are to death right now?! You're jabbering on when..." He stopped suddenly, and his eyes narrowed. "...when we have already been infiltrated by a master of disguise."
The Heavy frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that the Spy is far too clever to simply wait for us to find him. At this moment, he could be getting ready to strike! He could be in this very room!" He prodded the Heavy in the chest. "He could be you! He could be me!"
And then, in one swift movement, he drew his revolver and aimed it at the Scout's head. "But he is definitely... you."
The Scout didn't even glance at it. "Me? Why... I can assure you...!"
"Oh, please. The Scout doesn't use words like 'fellows' or 'hypothetically', or 'assure' for that matter. And he definitely knows the word 'pornography'." The Spy smirked. "Perhaps I was the one who misjudged your capabilities. In any case, I believe this charade has gone on long enough. Au revoir, my incompetent friend." His trigger finger tightened, there was a thunderous explosion...
...and the BLU Spy fell to the ground, which often happens when one's head is obliterated by a double helping of buckshot.
The Scout and Heavy recoiled with exclamations of shock and surprise, and the Soldier simply pumped the forend (look it up) of his shotgun. "What? It was obvious! He's the RED Spy!"
"But... how did you know?" the Heavy asked, confused.
"Oh, come on. Why would anyone want to even pretend to be a Scout?"
"...da. Is good point."
As the other two approached the body, the Scout was still reeling from the display of gore he had just witnessed... though not for reasons a normal person would expect.
"...those... pipes everyone keeps pointing at me," he murmured finally. "They can do that?! By my horns, this entire world is insane! I'd call it utter chaos, but not even he could understand these vicious little beasts!"
"Watch," the Soldier said, as he and the Heavy crouched over the Spy. "He'll turn red any second now!"
The Scout's eyes fell on the folded knife in his hand. Unbidden, his muscles moved of their own accord and opened the weapon in a smooth, mesmerizing display of reflected light. Then he looked at the intelligence sitting innocently on the desk, its handle inviting a hand to grip it.
He smiled a thin smile. "...well. If that's how things are done here, far be it from me to flout local culture. If I want that briefcase, apparently it must be taken by force. In that case, so be it. I'll play your game, you miserable creatures."
".....aaaaaaannny second now."
He held his weapon of choice tightly and advanced on the pair. "After all, you know what they say..."
"See? Red!" The Soldier hesitated. "No, wait. That's blood."
"...when in the Crystal Empire..."
"So," the Heavy said grimly. "We still got problem."
"...do as the crystal ponies do!"
"Big problem," the Soldier admitted. "C'mon, Scout, stop muttering to yourself over there. We've gotta go find this Spy."
The red vapor surrounding his body chose that moment to dissipate, and the RED spy stood over them, weapon held high. "Don't worry," he all but purred. "I'm right behind you."
The two BLU mercenaries had only a moment to act before the Spy, gripping the heavy iron-plated briefcase in both hands, brought it down on their heads.
Whack!
"Ow! My duodenum!"
Thunk!
"Sandvich! I need sandvich!"
Crunch!
"Hold still!"
Bash!
"You are so bad at this!"
WhapwhapwhapwhapTHUD!
"I'm sorry! I'm new!"
After catching his breath and wiping the gore from his face, the Spy did not carefully retrieve one of the photographs, all of which had been ruined at this point in any case. There had been a lot of... splatter. Instead, he regarded the heavily dented and stained case. "...I still don't see the point, but I hope this is good enough," he said, then carefully stepped around the groaning Soldier and Heavy as he made his way to the exit. "Grogar's beard, I need a wash..."