tosbox | making my way downtown

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making my way downtown

[The big issue here isn't getting fired. No, Spy will be fine for now, considering all that he's saved. Losing a resource as powerful as RED and Mann Co in general is a blow indeed, but Spy can get by. Right now, he's more concerned about living and making sure none of his loose ends catch up to him.

Most of the things he's taking back with him are either essential or expensive. The weapon magazines and catalogues sent by RED are still sitting in his old quarters, along with some leisure books and even some pieces of his old uniform. The suit has always been a part of his look, so he keeps some of it; they make for some decent padding for the wine stored in the trunk of his car.

With his tie slung around his neck and his jacket over his arm, Spy makes a mental checklist of all he needs. His life is pretty much stowed away in his wallet: bank cards, multiple IDs, cash, miniature cloaking device, plane tickets... He pats his pants pocket for the only thing that doesn't fit in his wallet: his passport. Not that he'll need it for the flight, but it's good to have these things just in case.

A tiny part of his brain nags at him, urging him to feel sentimental about leaving his workplace of over four years. But to hell with that - god knows this won't be the last he's seen of them.

When Scout hobbles up to his car, a mess of stupidity and arm casts, Spy is tempted to slam the door in his face and make him eat his dust trail. But, of course, the little mongrel has to pull the mother card and all of a sudden Spy feels responsible.]

I have a jet leaving in fifty minutes. You've got twenty. Get in the car.

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[ Still as if he's reading from a script. ]

But I do mean it. Spy. I do. It would please me if you put it in mouth hole.

[ He cranes his head forward, opening his mouth a bit and baring his teeth. ]

Of course, Scout, I'll put it right where you want it.

[Once he delivers that bite, his shit-eating grin dies down a bit. There's still some left, and Spy manages to scoop up some of that mysterious gravy. He holds up the spoon backwards, his free hand holding down the curved part of the spoon, ready to let fly.]

I could finish all over your face or in your mout'. Which would you prefer?

[ Scout half-grins, half snarls, and stands up abruptly. ]

Neitha. I don't let you finish. Dick.

[ And he makes to stomp over to the glass. ]

GUARDS! GUARDS COME QUICK! SPY JUST SHIT A HUGE FUCKIN DIAMOND OUT OF HIS ASS! I THINK HE STASHED SOME COAL UP THERE JUST IN CASE HE NEEDED TO CUT HIS WAY OUTTA SOMEWHERE LATER, BUT IT CUT HIM UP COMIN OUT! I THINK HE'S DYIN!!!! GUARDS!!!

[Ah, it was a good run while it lasted. Scout's already moving before Spy can slide in one last joke, so he flings the food at his teammate's retreating back before standing. Actually, the spoon should help. As he listens and rolls his eyes at Scout's story, Spy tucks the spoon under one arm, then takes the tray the food had been served on and bends it into a tool he can use for either stabbing or bludgeoning.

With the spoon in one hand and the tray in the other, Spy sets his back against the wall by the door.]

Blue balls is such an ungentlemanly response. You don't seem like much of t'e type to be forceful in such a way, but I suppose I may be mistaken.

Well there's your problem right there - I ain't no gentleman.

[ The door down the hall swung open, allowing two guards to come through and walk brusquely down the hall. It was unknown whether they were responding to Scout's distress or really did believe the Spy had smuggled in a diamond to cut the cage open. ]

COME QUICK! HE'S DYIN'!

[ "Where is he?" ]

Back there, on the shitter! Please, dere's blood everywhere! And SMELL! AHW GOD THE SMELL!

[ "Get back!"

The door swung open and Scout stepped aside, making room for the first guard, who carried a baton at the ready, to walk through and leaving the other guard in the door with mace. As soon as the first guard was past him, Scout spun around and charged the cop standing in the door, ramming him with his head down like you might expect a ram to. Unlike a ram, however, Scout also kneed him in the balls, which was both cruel and unsportsmanlike. Good thing Scout was not a gentleman. ]

[Unlike Scout, someone loud and largely conspicuous, Spy keeps to the shadows well, waiting for the ideal opportunity to strike. Once the guard in the doorway is down, Spy bashes his head in with the tray. When Spy is certain the guard won't get up, he shoves the body into the doorway to keep it from closing.]

If any ot'er guards come our way, alert me immediately.

[With one last look at his teammate, Spy slinks off to follow the other guard's trail, blood dripping behind him. Since the washroom is unoccupied, the guard looks confused, swinging his head this way and that. It makes a good target for Spy's quick hands and he snaps the guard's neck in a fashion that would make Soldier proud. Spy abandons his crude weapon in favor of the guard's baton.

When he returns to the other room, Spy is wiping some stray blood off his hands.]

Are we clear?

Clear, let's go.

[ Scout has already begun to trot down the hall back to the exit, trusting that Spy must have gotten the key to open the door. However, he doesn't realize he's not going very fast at all, he only knows the end of hall isn't coming as quick as he'd think. Scout was a smaller man compared to Spy, and he had eaten his meal gradually rather than letting it drop in one big bomb for his stomach. The drugs were setting in on him a little quicker. ]

[Of course Spy has the key, it would have been uncharacteristic of him not to quickly pat down the bodies after killing them. Of course.

He walks straight past his teammate, expecting him to keep up. It's his arms that are broken, not his legs, and Scout is renowned for his speed, after all.

When Spy hears faltering footsteps behind him rather than a steady trot beside him, he spins on his heel to look for his teammate. It's a mistake; the sharp movement sets his head spinning.

Shit. Of course they drugged them. To think they were competent enough to... To hell with it. They were escaping that night or they'd die trying. Mouth set in a grim line, Spy reaches forward to grab Scout by the front of his shirt with the intent to drag him down the hall.]

[ Scout's feet automatically begin pedaling quicker to keep up with the tugging. How and when did Spy get ahead of him? Why did he look so distressed? ]

It's gonna be ok, Spy.

[ He tries to assure the other, a little quizzically. ]

Man, I'm tired alla sudden, I-- oh shit.

Edited 2014-11-23 09:18 (UTC)

I know you like to run your mout', but-- oui. Just stay wit' me.

[If they're lucky, when they do hit the floor, Scout won't land on top of his arms. Spy would never hear the end of that one. He moves his hand from the front of Scout's shirt to the small of his back, fingers firm on his brace, just to help maintain his balance.

The edges of his vision are going fuzzy, but Spy has fought drugs before. Sure, he hasn't had to do it much with RED, but at least he's done it. Spy is banking on that experience to get him to the door. It's when he has to stick in the key that he begins to have trouble.]

Pour l'amour de dieu... T'is is not complicated...

[ Now aware he's being affected by the drugs, Scout fights against them and to keep himself focused while they go towards the door. He realizes it's Spy's hand against his back driving him forward, and he's flooded with an uncharacteristic gratitude. No really, he's even beginning to tear up a little. What. The. Fuck. Clearly they had delivered them some fucking estrogen to try and get them to calm down.

They go through the door and... into a small security area, where two men, one an officer and one which appeared to be a clerk, had been playing cards. Scout gaped at them, then snapped out of it as the men jumped up. The clerk went screeching out of the room, the officer drawing his mace and raising it to blast a cloud towards the door. ]

[With one hand occupied with guiding his teammate, Spy has to fumble with his failing grip to switch out the key for the baton shoved into a jumpsuit pocket. He manages to swap them just as the mace comes upon them, leaving him flailing, weapon out. Spy lands a few hits, but the onslaught of mace and drugs clouding up his mental processes has him reeling. His feet stumble backwards and in Scout's general direction, his balance careening.

At that point, he's very vulnerable to the guard approaching them with the can of mace raised as a barrier between the mercs and himself. However, he's a little reluctant to let his teammate go; not only does Scout provide him with something to lean on, part of the goal is to get out together. Scout has become his responsibility, whether he likes it or not. He's pretty sure Scout's (probably very talkative, let's be real here) ghost would haunt him if this is how they went.]

Edited (I cant spell, its late and im on mobile) 2014-11-23 09:51 (UTC)

[ They would both be stuck haunting this stupid place together. Nuh uh. Scout ain't gonna have that. Scout catches Spy, accidentally since the mace meeting his eyes have made the tears really start to gush. He yells out in pain for the burning in his eyes and face, and gets a mouthful to burn his tongue. He blindly ducks away from the spray, dragging Spy with him; the blind leading the blind. The cop, none too bright, follows them with the spray and realizes too late he's just enveloped himself in it. Scout stumbles into the door out, blinking and trying to make out where the fuck they are. ]

[Spy disentangles himself from Scout and his casts, fighting for balance on his own two legs. Or, at least he tries-- he ends up bumping Scout's casts in a way that would probably nudge him so that they're standing face to face. Not that Spy can even stand all that well anymore, his free hand reaching out to catch himself on Scout's shoulder.

The corridor they've stumbled into is much narrower than the one leading from their cell. Spy still can't see, but his back bumps the wall. He leans into it, searching for stability. At least he's still got his hearing; clumsy footsteps follow them from the last room they were in, so Spy tries to kick out and shut the door with his foot. The top of his foot makes contact, and there's a satisfactory click of the door shutting. Still, throwing off his balance like that does not help at all - he knocks the baton into the wall behind him as he gropes around for balance, his other hand still reaching for his teammate to confirm Scout's location and for the sake of having something to hold on to.]

[ This is the worst. Scout's been knocked and spun around so much he doesn't know where he is, he's blind, and his skin burns all over. The only upside of this is he's definitely not tired anymore, although he may be experiencing a fair bit of vertigo. He bumps into Spy as he's grabbed, one cast thumping against the wall. He tries to remember which way they came in when they got here. ]

Gotta be this way.

[ Coughingly. Unfortunately, it was not. Nevertheless, Scout thinks it is, so he begins to shuffle that way while trying to take Spy with him, down the hall towards what was probably a broom closet. ]

[It doesn't feel like Spy has much of a choice but to let Scout drag him, considering he still can't see. He contemplates how good of an idea it is to wipe his eyes for about a second before dismissing the idea entirely; he's going to have to wait for water.]

Are you sure? I doubt you can see much better t'an I can.

[But Spy will keep moving in that direction anyway. When they hit a door, he fumbles for the knob and pushes it open. It is indeed a broom closet, and he trips over a bucket of water, knocking him completely off balance. Hell if he falls alone, though - the hand in Scout's shirt tightens as panic floods his system, a noise of surprise ripping from his throat.]

[ Scout shouts out as well as he feels gravity and Spy inevitably betray him, yanking him down into a heap. Had he the use of his arms, he'd be flailing about now, but he didn't. In fact he had knocked them into a jumble of things on the way down and head a crack as he hit the ground. He didn't know if it was his arm or just the cast, but it did hurt and Scout cries out and curses. ]

Why'd you do dat?!!

[ He half-sobs, half-yells at the other man. Everything hurts, oh my god. He tries to roll over and sit up, bashing into the shelves like a wounded animal and raining bottles of cleaning products down on them. ]

I-- I'm sorry!

[All this yelling and movement and pain has pushed him to his limit. Spy is definitely flailing, trying to comprehend the sudden onslaught of cleaning supplies and Scout all around him. He sits up in a jolt, extending his hands to grope around, trying to amend whatever it is he did wrong. It doesn't occur to him just yet to be quiet, that their cover is already probably blown into tiny pieces.

He pushes aside cleaning supplies, trying to clear out space for his teammate.]

Is it your arm? Merde, je m'excuse, je-- Just, settle down for now--

[His hands are hovering in Scout's general vicinity, hoping to pat him down, inspect him, examine him, something.]

Yeah-- I dunno-- Spy, I think my eyes are meltin'!

[ Surprisingly enough, feeling a hand on him does get him to still, even if he feels like this is all Spy's fault. He sits up a little, stuffing his face into what turns out to be Spy's shoulder, where he tries to wipe his eyes off ( you know, along with the tears and snot that comes from mace ). It may be difficult for Spy to find anything wrong with him, but there is a crack along one of the casts and one of the braces has snapped, leaving a long, slender rod jutting out from Scout's side like a bone. ]

Oh man, they got me fucked up.

[ There's someone back down the hall shouting for help and bashing sounds. Someone else is bouncing off the walls, though it seems to be heading away from them. ]

T'ey are not, just-- calm down.

[He brings his hands up and smooths out Scout's shoulders, following the lines of his arms to inspect his casts. He feels the crack, fingers it, tries to assess the damage. It's not too deep, they could probably fill it in with-- something. Maybe they'll have medics to help. His other hand scopes out the broken brace, then moves to support the free-floating cast.]

Scout, do not-- Don't rub your eyes, you will make it worse. Come now, chin up.

[The hand inspecting the cracked cast comes up to where Spy estimates Scout's chin should be. His reach is slow, careful, and his fingers brush Scout's neck before settling gingerly under his jaw.

The commotion in the background is starting to touch upon his senses, but they can deal with it when it comes.]

Edited 2014-11-24 03:01 (UTC)

[ Spy is right, wiping his eyes brings only temporary relief and the searing just comes back even hotter. He can't get up with Spy inspecting him, not that he wants to. Even with his eyes shut, it feels like he's on a boat on stormy waters. He's panting, his heartbeat hammering loudly in his head. The touch on his jaw is cool like a balm. ]

Why're you bein' so nice to me?

[ He doesn't really know he's said it aloud; there's no real barrier between his mind and his mouth now, if there ever was. ]

Maybe if we shut the door and wait it out quietlike, they'll think we made off.

[Spy clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He taps his fingertips gently against his teammate's cheek before setting his hand back down on Scout's shoulder.]

You're 'urt. I was-- responsible. For some t'ings. [A pause.] I am not completely 'eartless, you know.

[Spy raises his head back towards the door. The shuffle of feet has subsided for now, but he suspects that it will return sooner than later.]

I doubt it, but it won't 'urt to close t'e door. And to be quiet. If you can manage t'at.

[He leans over to close the door, careful not to disturb his teammate. When the door clicks shut, it blocks out whatever maintenance machines had been making background noise, instilling a feeling of quiet in the cramped space of the closet.

It occurs to him now that he's not even sure where Scout's body is situated in relation to his. Spy's back is propped up against a shelf, one of his knees against a wall, and the other close enough to Scout that he can feel his body heat.]

[ When Spy moved away, Scout had flopped back onto the floor to try and breathe the fire out of his lungs. Low he lies face-up on the floor, his head pillowed by what he doesn't know ( or care ) to be the head of an old mop. His forearms jut up with the cast like two white towers, like some robot who had run out of steam.

His legs still work, though they feel a bit heavy, and Spy will be able to sense where he is soon enough as a thigh knocks against his knee. The silence is filled for a moment with Scout snuffling over the mace, though he attempts to be quiet. He does attempt it. Unfortunately, the consequence of this is that he's also rapidly losing consciousness, at which point all the congestion starts him snoring softly. ]

[Spy tries to crack open his eyes, but to no avail. The inflammation hasn't died down one bit - it'll need proper decontamination before he can use them one hundred percent.

Scout's movements prompt Spy to reach over to check on him, feeling a need to constantly update his information feeds. His heartbeat is the only sound that keeps him company, aside from the little noises that float from Scout's mouth.

That's fine, though. Spy has been prepared to be the one carrying Scout throughout this endeavor, even if it turned out that they had each done an equal amount of carrying the other. Instead of bothering his teammate, he listens to the door. A few minutes pass as he keeps up his head, running over little drills in his mind to keep it alert, before anything approaching footsteps come into earshot. When they do, it's like a herd pounding through the narrow hallway, complete with muffled complaints about the lack of room.

Sighing, Spy eases his weight to rest completely against the hall. Well, here marks failure number one.]

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making my way downtown

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