Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merasmus knelt behind the bush, watching his former roommate push an entire refrigerator—undoubtedly filled with sour cream, judging by the many raccoons following him, away from the Teufort base. The RED soldier’s trusty shovel was resting atop the fridge, rattling as he forced the machine across the sandy terrain. Soon the soldier stopped, having made a good distance from base, grabbed his shovel and began digging. Lieutenant bites took his distraction as its cue to scratch against the fridge doors and try to get the sour cream held within it.

Soldier noticed the little rascal’s efforts and scooped the trash panda into his arms, holding it like a baby. “Now soldier, I know you and your family love this stuff, but as Americans, we all must make sacrifices!” He then launched into a long-winded speech about how Alexander Hamilton apparently saved America by becoming president and punching King George’s head so hard that it somehow exploded. Merasmus stared at him in exasperated confusion as the RED Soldier continued spouting nonsense. He knew mortals got history wrong all the time, but COME ON!

He had yet to come up with a plan to get revenge on the man for killing Tom Jones, who unlike Soldier did not steal his heart medication or any other of his belongings, thank you very much.

God, he hated that man, Merasmus had tried forgetting Soldier and all the frustrations that came with him, but noooooooo. Just as he thought he had moved on from all that drama that madman decides to BARGE INTO HIS HOME, AND MURDER HIS ROOMMATE!!!!

God, he wished he could just kill Soldier and his team and be done with it, but with their inability to just stay dead, murder was hardly an effective solution at this point. He had learned that the hard way.

Then an idea struck him. He readied the spell, whispering the magic words. With green energy swirling in his hand and a wicked grin on his face, the wizard sent it hurtling towards the oblivious Soldier---but just as he fired the magic missile, one of the many raccoons that had followed Soldier out into the desert jumped and latched onto the magician’s face, sending the green ball flying past its intended target.

Meanwhile, the resident RED Scout and Spy were outside the base, sitting on a few empty crates left over from the last weapons delivery.

“Sppppyyyyyyyy,” Scout said, leaning on the masked man, “I’m bored.”

“And what do you expect me to do about that?”

“I dunno, Dad, something.”

Spy rolled his eyes and took a drag of his cigarette. “Why don’t you listen to music on your phone then?” he suggested.

Scout thought for a moment, then replied, “Nah.”

“Are you going to reject all my suggestions again?”

“Yeah probably,” Scout confirmed. “I dunno, I’m just in one of those kinda ugh moods where literally nothing sounds interesting, like, at all.”

Spy nodded, Scout had described to him in the past the restless boredom he sometimes felt because of his ADHD. “Ugh” seemed to be the name he used to describe this emotion. He could do without the young man’s irritating habit of informing everyone within earshot that, yes, he was bored out of his mind, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, though. Spy loved his son, but he definitely was not a fan of this annoying habit of his.

Scout tapped out a tune on the boxes they were sitting on. If Spy had to guess, it was probably What’s New Pussycat by Tom Jones.

The smell of cigarette smoke permeated the air as Spy took another drag. The weather was not bad that day, a little cloudy, but not too hot. He could hear Soldier giving a passionate speech to his racoons farther away from base. He couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but it was probably meaningless garbage, so why should he care, anyway?

Scout kicked his legs, examining the way the sand sparkled as the sun shined on it. He let his mind wander to topics he could talk about with Spy, but none of them sounded interesting at the moment, nothing sounded remotely interesting, to be honest. He sighed in irritation at his current lack of inspiration and creativity. The RED Scout looked over at his father, who had already finished his cigarette, which was now lying on the ground next to Spy’s feet. He sighed louder and more dramatically, this time to get the man’s attention.

Spy glanced at him and asked, “What?”

“I’m bored.” he repeated

“I know that.”

“C’mon man, can’t you do something to help?”

Spy considered his options, but before he could answer, he spotted the giant ball of light hurtling towards them only three feet away. “Look out!” he shouted, launching himself in front of the younger man.

The light hit his chest at full force, knocking the spy off his feet and into his shocked son behind him.

The two men were enveloped in light as the magic took hold of them. Their figures melded into a glowing mass, churning and swirling on the sandy ground before shooting up in a blinding beacon towards the sky. Soon the shining silhouette of a man formed and took shape, and the light exploded outward to reveal a new figure somewhere between the height of the two men.

He wore a long-sleeved shirt, the same shade of red that Scout’s t-shirt had been. Over the shirt, he had on a pinstripe vest, similar to Spy’s suit but more simple in design. Tucked into the vest was Spy’s red tie, attached to the chain of Scout’s dog tags. For pants he wore a pair of dark gray dress pants, and for shoes, he had a pair of simple black dress shoes with two white stripes running down the sides of each. The figure also wore a version of the RED spy’s mask ending just below his eyes, with Scout’s hat being replaced with something resembling a beret with a baseball cap brim sitting atop his head.

Immediately upon forming the figure dropped unceremoniously from the sky, as the laws of gravity took control once again.

The newly formed fusion shrieked as he fell through the air and landed with an “Oof” on the sandy ground below. He groaned and pushed himself to a sitting position.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The man’s eyes shot open in surprise at his new voice, sounding like a mix between both Scout and Spy’s respective accents. He looked down at his hands, a pair of black fingerless gloves now covering them, and screamed.

The entire RED team—minus Soldier—rushed out of the base, battle ready, having heard the distinct sound of a magical energy blast far too close to base for comfort. Expecting to see Merasmus, the sight of a strangely familiar man shrieking at his open palms instead greeted them.

“Wha-” Heavy started.

“FUSION’S REAL?!?!?!” The man shrieked in shock and disbelief. “WHAT THE FUCK?!?!”

Engie interrupted the fusion’s panicked questioning, “Now calm down, uh, whoever-you-are, and explain what in Sam Hill happened here.”

He looked up at the familiar faces of his teammates. “I-I don’t know, one minute I was-we were just sitting on these boxes talking and then out of nowhere came this big ball of light and I-Spy---he jumped in front of me; I mean I jumped, uh, no, but actually yes, but, UHG MERDE; SPY JUMPED IN FRONT OF SCOUT, God that was so weird to say, holy fuck! Anyway, so now we’re like this,” he finished, gesturing towards himself.

The rest of the team started, dumbfounded at the man before them. Engie scratched his head, taking a moment to decipher the familiar strangers explanation into something more….coherent.

“So….you’re saying that you are somehow both Scout...and Spy?” He asked, somewhat confused.

“It’s the only explanation we can think of anyway.”

The fusion seemed to have found most of his composure again, distracted by his teammate’s questioning.

“But how can we be sure what you are saying is true,” enquired Medic, suspiciously.

The man before them looked up at the doctor, “Magical bullshit happens to us all the time, Doctor,” he explained, “This is probably because Merasmus is taking his problems with Soldier out on us again like he always does.”

Medic hummed, “That is possible, but just to make sure,” he kneeled down on the ground in front of the man, “I need you to show me your arms.”

The fusion flinched, breaking eye contact briefly, then hesitantly rolled up his sleeves and removed the long gloves obscuring his forearms.
Old, faded scars from self-inflicted wounds littered his skin. It overlaid scars from both men onto the same body, some more faded than others. The men had been clean of that habit for quite some time, but the sight of their combined scars was jarring to say the least.
Medic examined the marks, and affirmed to the rest of the team, “Yes, it is them; the scars match.”

The unnamed fusion hastily pulled on his gloves again and rolled the red sleeves back over.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” Medic stood and held out a hand, “I think a team meeting is in order, ja?”

He took the hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Dusting the sand off his pants, he asked, “What about the BLUs and Mr. Hale? Shouldn’t we call them and tell them what happened?”

“I dinnae think anything’s gonna stop ol’ Saxton Hale from baggin’ himself a few chupacabras for his trophy room, mate,” Demo mused. “They’ll probably be back tomorrow, so we’ll tell em’ then.” He gave a reassuring smile, throwing his arm around the masked man’s shoulders.

He was probably right, to be honest, their boss probably wouldn’t even pick up his phone unless it was Bidwell, and it was an emergency, but he was on the trip too. “All right, well what do you suggest we do until then?”

“Ah say we find you a new name.” The Scotsman quirked an eyebrow and smirked, “Unless you’d rather stick with Spout?”

“Mon Dieu, no that is literally the dumbest name in the history of dumb names,” ‘Spout’ said with a groan.

They headed towards the entrance of the base, Demo keeping his arm around the newly formed fusion as they walked. The gesture admittedly comforting to the still disoriented man.

Just then, their missing teammate came rushing towards them, shovel in hand, shouting, “MEN!”, at the top of his lungs. The helmet clad soldier panted as he came to a stop. The RED team turned to look at him as he continued, “Men, Merasmus is back, and he tried to cast a spell on me! But Colonel Scratchy got to him so he missed! Now, I tried to beat the crap with my shovel, but he used his wizard magic to get away!!!!”

Soldier then noticed the new face in the crowd. “Who are you?”

“He’s Scout and Spy, I reckon your former roommate hit them with the spell by mistake,” Engie answered for him. “We’re about to help him figure out a new name, why don’t you come with us and help?”

“Okay!” he responded enthusiastically.

With that settled they all made their ways to the meeting room, Medic took a detour to the med bay to drag over a whiteboard so they could write names. The smell of dry-erase markers was in the air as they wrote suggestions down and erased rejected names as ‘Spout’ chose the finalists.

Engie had his laptop opened to a thesaurus website, “You know, it’s funny how this thing says scout is another word for spy.” He remarked.

“It’s foreshadowing,” the still unnamed fusion replied, casually. That got a little laugh out of the Texan.

There were only three names left on the board: Bandit, Thief, and Informant.

“Okay, so informant sounds cool, but that’s not that’s not really my—I mean, that’s not really Scout’s job, because his role is offense, and also Spy doesn’t really give out information that easily, so that ones out.”

Sniper, who was on whiteboard duty, erased the name.

The half French/half Bostonian man considered the final two options, “Hmmm, I think these are both good because both Scout and Spy steal intel, so both these words work for me in that way. But they also have different feels to them. Thief sounds more formal professional, while Bandit is more cartoony and fun.”

He scratched the back of his head in contemplation. He paced back and forth, humming to himself, his eyebrows knitted together under his mask. The fusion halted abruptly at the board, squinting at the black writing.

“Ok, I think I like Bandit better. Because Thief is too formal for Scout and it just sounds better.” He smiled, satisfied with his choice.

Medic grinned, “Wonderful, and what about your real name?”

Bandit’s smile fell, and he slapped his hand onto his face, “Shit, fuck, ok uhhhh,” He picked up a marker and erased the board with a gloved hand. He wrote ‘Jeremy’ and ‘Renard,’ the scout and spy’s first names, respectively. The newly named fusion exchanged his black marker for a red one. He circled ‘Jer’ and Ren’ then combined them into Jerren below.

He tapped the board with fervor, “There, my real name is Jerren.”

“That was quick,” Sniper commented with eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, well combining names is easy.” He then remembered something he probably should asked have earlier, “Hey guys, did anyone call Miss Pauling and tell her what happened?”
The room went quiet, it seemed the answer was a resounding ‘No.’

Engie cleared his throat awkwardly, “I’ll do it,” he said.

Turning away to his laptop he set out to do just that. The others took that as their cue to leave and went their separate ways. Bandit followed their lead and also exited the meeting room, wandering to the mess hall. He sat himself down in a chair, leaned on the table and rested his chin on his hand.

Now what?

Chapter Text

So as it turns out, contemplating one’s sudden existence is not a very fun way to kill time, as Bandit came to find out pretty quickly. He tried to push it out of his mind, tried to shift his focus to something a little less existential.

He failed.

It was just so weird how only a half-hour ago he was two people and now he was one person. Or maybe he was actually two people sharing one body? He didn’t know which scenario was more true and thinking about it just confused him more.

He knew that Steven Universe said that a fusion was neither two people nor one person, so he supposed that explanation would have to do for the time being. Scout loves that show, he had gotten the entire base hooked on the series and was very proud of that fact. Even Spy found himself caught up in the plot and characters, though he wouldn’t admit to it being any more than ‘Okay’ out loud.

Before what felt like the Scout side of him could gloat about how he knew Spy loved the show too, Pyro walked into the mess hall with their arms full of art supplies.

They dropped everything onto the table Bandit was sitting at and waved.

‘You want to draw with me?’ they signed.

‘Sure,’ he signed back. ‘Let me get my things first.’

The little firebug gave him a thumbs up, before turning to their paper to draw.

The fusion quickly debated whether he should go grab Spy or Scout’s supplies. His brain informed him that Spy mostly stuck to paintings, so Scout’s things would probably be more suited to doodling with Pyro.

Bandit grabbed the Copic markers that Spy bought him for his birthday last year, a gift that Scout had been over the moon to receive, grabbed a few other things, and then made his way back to his teammate.

Pyro’s materials consisted of mainly dollar-store quality items, with some inexpensive but better quality things mixed in. A big box of crayons was open, the more vibrant colors looking more worn down than the rest, especially the pinks. That was Pyro’s favorite. A box of colored pencils was also resting nearby, with sharpener on standby.

He took a piece of printer paper from the pile, grabbed a regular old lead pencil and started sketching Garnet, since he already had Steven Universe on the brain.

The arsonist beside Bandit was working hard on their drawing of an orange kitten with fairy wings. Pyro finished coloring the wings and then turned their attention to the tubes of glitter glue, they selected the red and made little hearts surrounding it.
So cute.

Bandit’s own drawing looked to be a mixture between both his components’ respective art styles. Spy usually stuck to realism and post-impressionism style paintings. Scout, on the other hand, liked more cartoony and comic book esque styles.

The fusion was pretty happy with the way it was turning out, he was really digging this whole stylized realism look. Pyro seemed to agree, as they looked over at his paper and made a muffled “Ooooooh,” noise.

They continued drawing for about an hour and a half, when Bandit started to feel…...anxious, and restless.

…….

….He could use a cigarette.

‒NOPE! Not happening! Scout needs his lungs, he’s a runner, and a human being who needs oxygen to survive!

Oh boy, this situation was really making his head spin. He knew Spy had been trying to cut back on cigarettes lately, at the doctor’s orders of course. The Spy part of him didn’t want to get his son hooked on nicotine either, it was, quite frankly an annoying habit that cost a lot of money to maintain. Not something he’d like to share with anyone he cares about.

Bandit tried to ignore this conflict and continue drawing, but the mental fog was just too thick. Almost as thick as the smoke from a‒NO he was not doing that!

Pyro noticed the masked man staring off into space with a perturbed look on his face and knocked on the table to get his attention.

The gray-eyed fusion shifted his gaze to his friend. He noticed their concerned and questioning posture, not needing to see Pyro’s face to know that.

‘You okay?’ they asked.

Bandit hesitated for a moment, then explained, ‘I think the Spy part of me needs‒or, I mean wants a cigarette, but I don’t really want to mess up Scout’s lungs, and this whole predicament is making us feel….weird.’

He really wasn’t sure how to describe how this conflict between his two parts felt, but what he was sure of is that it was not pleasant in the slightest.

The firebug scratched their chin, or at least, the place their chin would be under their mask. They suddenly rose from their chair and grabbed Bandit’s hand, pulling him out of the room and down the hall.

The duo arrive at the Medbay. Pyro, still holding the dazed fusion’s hand, knocked on the closed double doors. Soon they opened to reveal Medic, without his lab coat or gloves. He quirked an eyebrow at the two and said, “Hello, meine freunde, what seems to be the problem?”

Pyro nudged Bandit forward and motioned for him to explain.

“Well you see doctor, there’s a bit of a conflict between our‒I mean, my two halves.” He shook his head quickly at his slip-up and continued, “To put it simply, Scout doesn’t want to smoke, but Spy kinda…..needs...to?”

Medic nodded, thoughtfully, “I see, why don’t you step into my office and we can sort this out together.” He motioned for Bandit to enter, and turned his attention towards his fire-loving teammate and smiled, “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Pyro, you can go now.”

They gave the doctor a thumbs up, before cheerfully skipping down the hallway.
Bandit followed Medic through the medbay doors. The room was spattered with dried blood, most prominent around the operating table. Despite this, the smell of antiseptic hung in the air. The doctor kept the important things sterile, at the very least.

They passed Medic’s doves on their perch next to their owner’s desk. The desk itself was somewhat messy and disorganized. Various medical charts and notes were scattered across its surface, and a stack of folders was piled up in the top corner of the table. The doves cooed at the Doctor as they made their way to the side room off of the infirmary.

Medic opened the door and sat down in a soft chair across from a loveseat. The room was what they used for therapy, it’s carpeted and cozy interior was a stark contrast from the room that looked like something from a horror movie they just exited.

On a nearby table was a bin filled with various fidget toys and other sensory items. Bandit plucked a tangle fidget from the pile and began to mess around with it.

Medic hummed thoughtfully, and asked, “So are Herr Scout and Herr Spy two separate entities within your mind, or has their combined consciousnesses merged and become one entirely new one?”

Bandit was somewhat taken off guard by this, “Uh, I don’t really know, it’s complicated.”

He knitted his brows together, “Why do you ask?”

“It may provide some insight into how this situation is affecting you,” he explained breezily. “Also,” he continued with a gleam in his eyes, “I’m very curious to know how the mind of a fusion works. It’s just so interesting! I would really like to find the answers to the questions I’ve had at the front of my mind all day too.”

“Oh, okay then.”

Bandit had to admit that finding out fusion was real was pretty exciting, but being unable to unfuse put a large damper on his attitude towards this discovery. At least Medic could find some enthusiasm out of this.

The masked fusion fiddled with the toy in his hands. “Uh, I’m not sure how to describe it...I think it’s somehow a mix of both. Like, some of my thoughts feel like their leaning towards Scout, and some of them lean more towards Spy. At the same time some thoughts just come from...both..of….them??? I don’t know.”

He shook his head.

Medic scooted to the edge of his seat, “So would you say that both of their personalities combine when they don’t strongly lean towards either side?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I really don’t know, doctor. We’ve only been like this for a couple hours at most.”

Thoughts of cigarettes invaded his mind, sparking off the debate amongst himself once again.

“Anyways, about the smoking thing, can you help me with that?”

Medic hummed, “Yes, perhaps this is a good opportunity to get Spy to finally quit.”

“Maybe, but we’re not doing it cold turkey.” Spy had tried it in the past, but that hadn’t worked out too well for him. In hindsight, it may have made his addiction worse. But both sides seemed in agreement that quitting was a good idea.

The doctor nodded, “Ja, that is the most difficult way to do it. I believe that Herr Sniper has some nicotine gum left over from when he was quitting. Why don’t you go ask him for some?”   

“Yeah, alright that sounds good, I think. Thanks Doc.” He placed the fidget back into the box, nodded to the doctor, then strode out of the room.

The fusion arrived at Sniper’s van, itching to get some nicotine in his system. He really hoped that this would be the end of Spy’s addiction, and not the beginning of a new addiction for Scout.

He quickly rapped his fist on the camper door. There was a rustling from inside, and the weathered door creaked open. Sniper peered at him from the doorway, “Hi mate, how’s it going?”

He shrugged, “As good as it can be, I suppose.”

“So, bloody awful then?”

“Pretty much,” he said, nodding. “Hey, I was wondering, do you have any of that nicotine gum left? The doc said you had some.”

Sniper blinked, before a thoughtful expression appeared on his face, “Uh, yeah, I think I do. Don’t know where I put it though.” He stepped back from the doorway and motioned for Bandit to enter.

Bandit followed, eyeing the cramped interior. He hopped up onto the unmade bed and sat on the edge, kicking his legs.

The sharpshooter rummaged through one of the cabinets under the sink. Setting beside a comical amount of unopened coffee cans, he half crawled into the tiny space. He pulled himself out shortly after, a dusty cobweb stuck to his hat.

He walked over to the closet, reached for a flashlight, only to spot the package sitting right next to it.

Sniper threw the box to the fusion on his bed. Bandit caught it effortlessly, “Thanks,” he said, inspecting the packaging. It was generic brand, from the local pharmacy with a picture of what he assumed one piece of gum looked like, surrounded with mint leaves.
There was one blister pack left in the container, and only three pieces left in the pack. He supposed this would have to do for now. Bandit popped a piece out of the packaging and into his mouth.

He laid down on the bed, his legs still dangling off the side.

“I’m‒Spy’s going to try to quit smoking,”

Sniper sat down at his kitchen/dining room table, “Sounds good mate. To be honest, nothing good really comes from that habit, in my experience.”

Bandit sighed, “I know, it’s such a waste of time and money, not to mention all the health problems that come with it. I know the Doctor said it can be a form of self-harm too.”

The bushman shifted in his seat a bit, he had talked with Scout about the runner’s experiences with self-harm in the past, but Spy almost never talked openly about his past or his scars.

“Really?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

“Yeah, they’re both self-destructive coping mechanisms, and for some people self destruction is what they’re going for.”

Sniper shifted nervously in his seat, “What about you?”

Bandit sat up at that and looked at the sharpshooter with wide eyes, “No, that’s not‒uh, I didn’t mean it was that way for me.” He pulled his legs up so he was sitting cross-legged. “I was just saying that’s another reason smoking isn’t good, alright?”

“Okay, no worries mate, just checking,” he said, relaxing visibly.

An awkward silence fell between them.

“....So, anyways,” Bandit drawled, “Isn’t it weird that Merasmus is back now, doesn’t he only show up around Halloween?”

“Yeah, Solly usually pisses him off around that time of year for some reason.”

“Maybe it’s a wizard thing?” The fusion speculated.

Sniper shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine, Band.”

Bandit raised an eyebrow at the name, “Band?”

“Yep.”

The fusion broke into a toothy grin, “What kind of band am I then?”

“Rubber,” he deadpanned.

Bandit burst out laughing and snorting. “Better watch out then, ‘cause I just might fling myself right at you,” he quipped.

“Are you flirting or is that a threat?” Sniper asked, amused.

“Yes,” The gray-eyed man smirked.

“Alright, fine. Keep your secrets.”

Lunch time rolled around and they were still chatting away. Engie had to come outside to tell them that lunch was ready. The pair joined the rest of the mercs in the mess hall. It was Pyro and Demo’s turn to cook, and they were serving up heaping plates of spaghetti to their teammates. The smell of Pyro’s homemade tomato sauce was in the air, everyone loved their cooking.

“So Bandit, how are you adjusting to being, well, you?” Engie asked once they were settled down.

Bandit spun some pasta around his fork, “I’m doing alright. I think I’m over the initial shock now, but I still have so many questions about this whole thing.”

“Like what?”

“Like, how does this affect me biologically. If I unfuse after I eat, will half of the food in my stomach go to Spy and the other half to Scout, or what?”

He nodded, “Yeah, can’t say I know the answer to that one, but I do have a question you may be able to answer for me.”

The fusion looked up from his plate, “What is it?”

“How did you know you couldn’t unfuse?”

“Oh, well, you see, I believe that if I could do that then I would have done it right after I found out I‒or I mean, my components found out they were fused. If we’re going by Steven Universe rules, that is.” He shrugged, “Either way, the wizard probably meant this to be some kind of curse, so it wouldn’t make sense to allow us to undo the spell that easily.”

Engie took a sip of his water, then replied, “Sounds about right to me. It’s good to hear you’re doing better now, partner. You looked pretty spooked back there,” Engineer said, flashing him a smile that warmed him to the core. Bandit smiled back, tapping his feet under the table.

Engie has such a nice, genuine smile. It was the kind of smile that could make your whole day, one he could look at for hours.

Wait, hold on. He was certain that wasn’t Scout thinking that, Engie was old enough to be his dad for God’s sake.

Oh. He understood now.

The Spy part of him was flustered by this, and looked away, hoping the mask covered his burning cheeks.

The laborer looked at him in confusion etched with concern. Bandit looked back at him and cleared his throat.

“So anyway, I have some good news to tell you!” he announced, injecting some cheer into his tone. “I’m quitting smoking.”

Demo, sitting to his left smiled brightly, “Oi, good for you mate!” He slapped his teammate on the back encouragingly.

“Oh! That reminds me,” Engie pulled out two boxes of nicotine gum, “The doc told me to pick these up for you.”

“Thank you, laborer,” he said, grabbing the packages and putting them away.

Engie just waved his hand, “Aw, shoot it ain’t no thing.” Then there was that smile again,
“I’m proud of you.”

His blush came back at full force this time, no doubt it was showing past the only half mask now. “Well, don’t get too ahead of yourself, I only just decided this today,” he deflected, or at least he tried to.

Wow, he really had it bad, didn’t he?

Shut up.

“Hey, I know you can do it, besides you’ve got us to help keep you on track now,” Engie pointed out. “Right, fellas?”

Murmurs of agreement went around the room ranging from Soldier’s confident “Affirmative!” to Pyro’s silent double thumbs up. Medic said he already had a plan drawn up to help Spy quit from the beginning, and Sniper promised to help give him tips for dealing with withdrawal. Bandit had his whole team behind him, cheering him on.

Thee fusion smiled, “Alright, well, I will do my best.”

He would hate to let them down after all this unwavering support.

Chapter Text

Lunch went by quickly and without incident, a welcome change from the confusion of that morning. Bandit went back for seconds, his first serving not being enough to satisfy him.

Medic pulled out a notepad and scribbled something down upon noticing this. Bandit looked over his shoulder to read it, but he put it away before he could begin to decipher his barely legible handwriting.

Still, the atmosphere was comfortingly familiar. It was nice to get back to some level of normalcy, even if the conversations they were having consisted of less than normal subjects.

Just after lunch ended, Demo approached the fusion, a mysterious leather-bound book in hand.

“Oi lad, so I was doing some research, and I found some pretty interesting things about fusion in here,” he said, showing Bandit the cover. There was a rune that was shaped like a Venn diagram, but with diamonds instead of circles on the front.

“Like what?” he asked, raising a brow.

Demo smiled, “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

They made their way to the common room. Heavy and Medic were sitting on the couch, the doctor leaning against his boyfriend’s shoulder as the larger man read. Medic himself was knitting a yellow, orange, and red striped scarf for someone. He was working on a red stripe at the moment.

The two men sat themselves on the empty couch across from them. Demo flipped through the pages before finding what he was looking for. Bandit scooted closer to look at the page he stopped at and peered at the text.

It was written in runes.

Of course.

He swore that sometimes his teammates did things like this on purpose just to spite him.

The fusion grumbled something under his breath, crossing his arms and laying back in his seat. Demo spotted him out of the corner of his eye and smirked.

“Alright mate, take your gloves off and put them on the table,” he instructed.

Bandit pressed his back further into the couch and squinted suspiciously.

“Calm down, I’m not gonna keek at your arms or anything,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I just wanna show you something.”

Gingerly, Bandit peeled off his gloves, and set them down on the table as instructed. He looked at the gloves then back to Demo, “Sooo, are you gonna explain, or what?”

“Just watch.”

Before his eyes, the garments began to glow in a familiar white light and separate into two distinct shapes. It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as when they first fused, but it was still a sight to behold. Once the transformation was complete, what remained was Spy’s original long gloves, and Scout’s grip tape in a pile on the table.

Bandit sat up and blinked at the sight before him. He wasn’t sure whether to ask how or why his gloves turned into their original counterparts. Was this somehow a way he could unfuse or something? He looked to his friend for an explanation once again.

Demo just shrugged, “Don’t look at me, if I could explain why it works, I’d call it science.”

Medic watched them with fascination in his eyes, his notebook out and ready to go.

“Ooooooh wunderbar! If it is alright with you two, I would love to find out more about fusion myself!”

The explosives expert looked at Bandit for any objections, finding none, he replied, “Sure, why not?”

The doctor broke into a huge grin, it would have been threatening, had they not known him better. He set his knitting aside and scooted to the edge of his seat.

Building off of the first demonstration, Demo told Bandit, “Just put those back on, and they should change back.”

Bandit slid on the two long gloves first, then hastily wrapped the grip tape around his hands again. He didn’t bother to make sure he tied them correctly, since they were just going to disappear anyway.

Sure enough, his hands were enveloped in light and the fingerless gloves returned. Medic was thoroughly impressed, his mouth formed a small ‘o’ and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

“You can do that with pretty much anything you own too,” Demo explained.

Bandit raised an eyebrow, “I can’t do it to other people’s stuff?”

“Well, you can,” he answered, shrugging, “But it’ll separate bloody quick if it’s not on you or in your inventory.”

Strange, he didn’t think magic would affect things like personal inventories. For some reason he didn’t think magic and such complex technology would work together very well. Just another surprise to add to the list, he supposed.

Bandit pulled out his phone, and sure enough his counterparts’ phones had combined into one as well. He turned it on and luckily, it wasn’t protected by any password. Good, guessing the thousands of ways his counterparts’ passwords could have combined would be nearly impossible. That, and he wasn’t in the mood to hack his own phone at the moment. Bandit made a mental note to investigate the other changes to his device later.

“Demo, does your book say anything about an increased appetite?” Medic inquired.

“Uhh..” Demo flipped the page and scanned across the text, “Yeah, right here. It says that fusions eat about as much as the people they’re made up of combined.”

The doctor pulled out his notebook again, “Fascinating,” he said, drawing a check mark, looking pretty satisfied that this theory was correct.

“Doctor has been talking about this all day,” Heavy mused, not looking up from his book.

“Oh, quiet you,” he backhanded him lightly, a wide grin on his face, “This is just too
interesting not to talk about!”

Heavy smiled, “That is fifth time you said that.”

Medic laughed, “Maybe, but don’t pretend you’re not interested too!”

“Maybe a little.”

“See! I knew it,” the doctor exclaimed, a cheeky grin on his face.

“So, what else does your book say about fusions?” he asked, turning his attention back to Demo.

“Well, the thing about fusions is they have the combined power of the people they’re made of,” He smirked, “And the combined magic.”

Bandit’s eyes widened in confusion and intrigue, “What do you mean by that?”

Demo’s smile widened, “What I’m saying is, both Scout and Spy’s combined magic, plus the magic keeping you two fused gives you magic powers.”

He gasped in awe, then paused, “Wait a minute, Spy and Scout don’t have magic,” he said, lowering his brows.

“But you do though! Everybody does!” Demo said, poking Bandit’s chest.

Bandit wrinkled his forehead a bit, partially at the finger thrusted into his personal space, “How?” he asked.

“You start with some level of magic when you’re born, more or less depending on your parents, and that can also increase the more you’re exposed to it.”

“So, basically, what you’re saying is, I’m a wizard.”

Demo cackled, “Aye, you’re a wizard, Bandit.”

The fusion laughed too at the reference; it was iconic enough to recognize despite never reading or watching Harry Potter himself.

“So, what kind of magic powers do I have?” he asked.

“All fusions have the power to combine things, but other than that I can’t say what others you might have.” He paused for a moment, “Though you might only have one more besides that for now, since you don’t have that much experience with magic.”

Bandit deflated a bit. He was kinda hoping for more than one special power, maybe then this whole situation would be worth it.

Demo noticed his disappointment and said, “Cheer up lad, I’m sure whatever power you get will be great!”

“I know,” he chuckled a little, “It better be good.”

He plastered a fake grin on his face. Look at him, just finding out he has powers and now he’s all pouty like a spoiled child told they have to choose only one expensive toy from the toy store. Just be grateful, it’s not like he deserves powers anyway.

Wow, okay, time to stop that train of thought right at the station. Being slightly disappointed at his small power set is no reason to beat himself up. Would he treat a friend like this?

No.

Well, he might tease, but would be it.

Bandit shifted his focus towards thoughts of potential powers. Maybe super speed? No, he’s fast enough without it. Being able to levitate things would be cool, he could do all sorts of things with that. He asked his teammates their predictions.

Demo said he had a book on potential powers somewhere in his room and went to go get it. They spent the afternoon flipping through the pages laughing and debating the uses for some of the powers it listed.

Some he recognized, like the ability to create Jarate rain. Really, it was hard to forget that one. He grimaced at the thought of being covered in piss, that is something he could never get used to no matter how many times it happened.

Still, there were some cool powers in there, like being able to stick to and climb up walls. There was also the basic super strength, various forms of flight, and fire immunity.

There were so many possibilities, his power could be pretty much anything. Bandit could only hope it was something cool and not weird like cheese manipulation or a head that could rotate 360 degrees.

Chapter Text

Bandit woke the next day to the incessant beeping of his phone’s alarm. He reached over to the nightstand near him blindly and peeled his eyes open. Wincing at the blinding light shining into his unadjusted pupils, he hastily turned the alarm off. Bandit shut his eyes again, letting his arm drape over his face.

He groaned as his body reminded him he hadn’t had a proper smoke since yesterday. The craving for some form of nicotine gnawed at him and flooded his mind. Usually Spy would have a cigarette in his smoking room just before breakfast, but that would have to change now that he made his decision to quit.

Not feeling particularly adamant about getting out of bed yet, he instead let his mind shift to a different topic.

The BLUs were coming back today, they shouldn’t arrive until around noon though. He wondered what their reaction would be to this whole situation. Scout was good friends with the BLU Scout and Demo, while Spy…...took a lot longer to warm up to new people, especially considering they used to be enemies.

And because he was a huge Tsundere.

No, shut up.

Come on, it’s true though!

He refused to dignify...himself with a response?

This is stupid.

Anyway! Bandit should probably get dressed now, like hell he was going to let the other mercs see him without proper clothes. He had at least half a reputation to keep after all.

He got up and messily made Spy’s bed, not bothering to neaten out all the wrinkles and make it look perfect, but enough so that everything was in their proper places. It wasn’t like the other mercs made it a habit of coming into Spy’s room, he made it clear that they should stay out unless invited. Or else.

He pulled out one of the boxes of nicotine gum, and popped a piece in his mouth. It would have to hold him over until after breakfast.

Bandit grabbed one of Scout’s T-shirts from the pile on top of the wardrobe. Gathering the rest of the components to his counterparts’ respective uniforms, he set out to combine articles. He changed quickly, not wanting to prolong the awkward moment of nudity any more than he had to.

Once dressed, he made his way over to the kitchen. He couldn’t remember who was supposed to make breakfast today, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t his turn yet.

Bandit noticed Demo passed out in the hallway, a bottle of scrumpy in hand. There was no puddle on the floor, so it was probably empty. He was using the wall as a pillow, his chin digging into his chest. Demo would probably have a sore neck if he kept sleeping like that. Without a second thought, Bandit pulled him into a more comfortable position. He retrieved a pillow from Demo’s room and carefully propped it up under the man’s head.

The fusion continued to the kitchen and grabbed himself a can of Bonk! from the now sour creamless fridge. Medic had not been very happy that Soldier had interpreted ‘Get rid of all this sour cream’ as ‘Bury the fridge in the desert.` Luckily, none of their food spoiled while he was off doing that.

Engie, always an early riser, was already in the mess hall, sipping his coffee and looking over some blueprints. He nodded to the fusion as he passed by. Pyro was also sitting nearby, playing a game on their 3ds.

In the kitchen, Heavy and Medic were working on breakfast, they were both pretty good cooks, so he wasn’t worried about them burning the base down. Medic was hard at work peeling apples, while Heavy beat an egg and sugar mix with a whisk.

Sniper wouldn’t be up for awhile, he was by no means a morning person. Bandit fondly smiled at memories of him groggily shuffling into the mess hall each morning. The way his hair was always messed up when he first woke up was pretty cute.

Oh really? Interesting.

Oh God.

Now it was the Spy part of him’s turn to tease. So, Sniper hmm? He could admit the man has his moments, especially on the battlefield, even if he is a weirdo who lives in a van.

Hey man, come on! Not cool! Sniper is one of the coolest, if not THE coolest dude he knows. He’s practically an expert when it comes to plants and animals and stuff, to the point where Scout would go to him first for any questions relating to flora or fauna. Not only that, but he is an awesome listener and even though he can be awkward, he tries his best!

Okay, okay. He gets the point. No need to get all defensive. Spy is happy for him nonetheless, really.

Had they not been sharing a head, Scout probably would have doubted the truth of that statement. He probably would have prodded further too, but that small conflict had muddled his brain immensely.

Internal conversations always made him feel like he was trying to think for two people at once but this conflict made that feeling double. It was a strange and unfamiliar sensation, and an unpleasant one at that. Bandit felt a bit lightheaded, and tried to shake away the feeling. If something small like this was enough to make him feel like this, then he would hate to find out what a full blown argument would do. Perhaps he should try and avoid things he knows his halves disagree on until they unfuse.

He plopped himself down in a chair next to his friends. He peeked over Pyro’s shoulder to see what they were playing. Looks like they were busy catching bugs in Animal Crossing. Maybe Bandit could make himself a file on Scout’s copy of the game later.

Soldier entered the mess hall some time later, having finished his daily calisthenics and inspection of the base, probably waking everyone else up on his way here.

Sniper followed shortly after, bleary eyed and shuffling towards the coffee pot like a zombie. A very handsome zombie.

“Morning, Snipes,” Bandit greeted.

All Sniper had to offer was a wave that more resembled swatting at some unseen fly than anything and some mumbled words. The marksman groggily searched for his usual mug. Finding it, he poured himself a cup and plopped down next to the fusion.

When they first started working together, Sniper wouldn’t have left his van to hang out with the other mercs unprompted. He had a coffee pot that worked just fine, and enough cans of the stuff to keep him going for awhile. Socialization—outside of a professional setting—really wasn’t his forte.

Sniper probably would have stayed cooped up in his trailer for a long time, had Scout not made the effort of befriending him. It had been slow, at first, small conversations here and there, with Scout being the one to approach 99% of the time. Sniper appreciated how Scout was more than happy to talk to him, despite his input being minimal at best.

Maybe that’s why Scout likes him so much, with Sniper he could ramble pretty much all he wanted and the guy wouldn’t even mind. That’s not to say he never let Sniper get a word in. Scout always made sure to ask him for his two cents every so often, especially in the earlier days of their friendship.

Bandit looked to the man in question, who had his head resting on the table in front of him, looking like he was about to pass out right there and then. He let out a little huff of amusement and ruffled his hair, teasing, “Hey Sunshine, how’d you sleep?”

Sniper groggily swatted his hand away and mumbled, “Shut yer bloody hole, Scou- uh Bandit.” He turned his head to glare at Bandit, who had a wide grin on his face.

“Oh my God, you look like an angry little kitten right now,” he laughed. “Drink your coffee, you fucking egg.”

“I’ll kill you.”

Bandit grinned harder, “Not even a proper chicken yet!”

“I’ll kill you, and then you’ll be dead.”

“Just a baby.”

Sniper just ignored him, sipping his coffee.

Not too long after breakfast the unfortunately familiar sound of a plane engine combusting alerted the RED team to the arrival of their boss and the BLU team. Saxton Hale hurtled downwards at top speed, parachuteless with a dead chupacabra under one arm and an alive and screaming Jerry under the other. You would think he would be used to this by now, but no.

The BLUs had the sense to actually wear parachutes, and were rather peacefully floating to the ground while their plane crashed not so peacefully in the background. By some miracle or sheer dumb luck it didn’t crash into the base, and instead landed in the desert, roughly where Soldier tried to bury the fridge the day before.

To be honest, Bandit was not a huge fan of how close to base Saxton had decided to ‘land’ the plane. He had a lot of expensive things in there that he would prefer not to have destroyed.

Unfortunately, their boss has a concerning amount of what Scout would call ‘chaotic energy.’ He’s reckless to a fault with a distinct lack of awareness of how his actions may affect others. Talking the man out of dangerous stunts like this would be like talking to a big, musclebound wall. How the base managed to stay intact this long was a mystery.

Saxton laughed triumphantly as he landed on his feet, somehow not injuring himself in the process. Bandit wondered if the man was hooked up to respawn, maybe that would explain why he felt free to perform death-defying feats on the regular. Or maybe he prefers the risk? Who knows.

Carefully placing his prize and his pilot down on the desert sand, Saxton scanned his eyes across the mercs waiting before him. His face lit up in a smile when he spotted Bandit amongst them, and strode over.

“Wow, would you look at that,” Saxton said, eyeing him up and circling him. “Thought you’d be a bit taller, but nah, you’re still a tiny little bugger.”

“Uh.”

“Bet you’re a bit stronger now, right?” he nudged Bandit with his elbow.

“Yeah, I guess I-”

“Great!” Saxton exclaimed. He jumped in front of the fusion holding his fists in front of him. “What do you say you and I have a bit of a throwdown, eh?”

Hell no! The guy would send him through respawn in five seconds flat, all he would have to do is grab him by the skull and twist. Even if he didn’t intentionally try to kill him, being punched once would be like a cannonball to the face, and Bandit wasn’t thinking of the diving move. Fusion or not, he was twig, especially compared to Saxton Hale. The man who seeks out and beats dangerous beasts like bears to death with his bare hands pretty much every day.

Saxton roared with laughter, “I’m just kidding, I couldn’t beat up a child!” He slapped the fusion on the back, nearly knocking him over in the process.

Bandit wanted to argue that he was not a child, that one of his components was in fact older than him. But he didn’t want Saxton to take that as an invitation to kick his ass into next week. He kept his mouth shut, settling for an irritated scowl instead.

Luckily for him, Saxton’s phone began ringing. He pulled it out and answered without checking to see who it was, “Hello, Saxton Hale here,” he paused for a moment, letting the person speak, “Bidwell! How’s it going?”

He walked off, leaving Bandit to his own devices. That was a bit anticlimactic. Not unwelcome, per say, but the timing was pretty strange.

Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he supposed.

The BLUs landed around him, some managed to land on their feet, others preferred to stick to the traditional rolling landing. Some, like the BLU Scout, managed to land on their face.

“Ow! Fuck, shit. Stupid fucking ground, fuck.” BLU Scout picked himself off the aforementioned ground.

“You alright?”

“Uh, yeah! Totally meant to do that!” he said, like a liar.

“Did you? Are you sure about that, Luke?” Bandit laughed.

The BLU Scout, Lucas, was taken aback, “How do you know my name?”

Bandit squinted at him, “Didn’t they tell you?”

“Nooo? Tell me what?”

“We, uh, Scout and Spy got hit with some kind of spell and now I’m-we’re fused.” Talking about his components like they weren’t him hadn’t gotten any less weird at this point, and calling himself ‘we’ stopped feeling natural awhile ago.

Lucas stared at him, jaw slack and mouth agape, “Fusion’s real?!”

Bandit just nodded, a wide grin on his face.

“Duuude, that’s so fucking wicked!”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I guess. So um, did they really not tell you anything?”

“Nah, not a word.”

Bandit hummed, “We’ll have to have another meeting then, get you guys up to date.”

And so, Bandit gathered up the BLUs, and herded them all into the meeting room. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to explain it anymore after this. He told them about the situation, including the information he got from Demo the other day.

The BLU Spy glanced at his teammates, none of them showed any hint of suspicion towards Bandit. For some incomprehensible reason they were just taking this man’s word as fact. The BLU Spy, Alain, thought at least some of his teammates would have the sense to doubt him, but no.

It wasn’t even a good cover story! Fusion? Please, Alain could come up with a better excuse in his sleep. Bandit was clearly a spy, and not one of the REDs like he so claimed. They may have had their fair share of experiences with magic, but still, this is ridiculous.

Alain scrutinized his target, the man clearly knew enough about them men he insisted he was made of to impersonate them. He could see both their mannerisms in his movements. Bandit kept one hand behind his back, like RED Spy, and gestured wildly with the other, like RED Scout. His gait was also somewhat bouncy, but more subdued than Scout’s energetic way of carrying himself. Still though, just because he has attention to detail that doesn’t mean he could fool the BLU Spy that easily.

“Spy, I can see you making faces at me, what’s the problem?” Bandit said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Alain stiffened, the man was more observant than he initially gave him credit for. “Well,” he said, hesitating, “I don’t understand how you expect us to believe this ridiculous story without any proof, you see.” He hoped that a lie close to the truth would save him from further scrutiny.

“Oh yeah, right.” Bandit turned to the RED Medic, “Hey Doc, back me up here.”

“Ja, we all heard the explosion from inside the base, and of course I checked to make sure it was really them,” Medic explained.

“Checked how?”

The doctor looked hesitant, and turned to Bandit, asking a silent question. Bandit glanced at Spy, grimaced, then turned back to Medic and shook his head.

“I can’t say, but I am certain it is them.”

So Bandit was somehow able to convince Medic that his story was true. That, or the RED Medic was in on his plan, whatever it was. Perhaps this went deeper than Alain originally thought. Regardless, Spy was going to get to the bottom of this, and he would let nothing stand in his way of the truth.

Chapter Text

The BLU Spy had been monitoring Bandit for the past two and a half days. So far he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, besides exist. Alain wasn’t an impatient person, their job involved a lot of watching and waiting after all. Still, they itched to have their questions answered, and Bandit was not being particularly helpful in solving this case.

Furthermore, Scout and Spy were still missing, so time was of the essence. They weren’t dead. They would have respawned by now if they did die. Having their individual respawns disabled would take an intimate level of knowledge of the technology involved.

Perhaps that was Bandit’s angle, gaining access to the respawn room so he can destroy it and kill them all. It wasn’t an implausible theory, considering how many enemies their boss has and the fact the mercs doubled as the company’s defence.

Tucking away that theory for later, Spy resumed surveillance. Right now Bandit was just scrolling through Tumblr on his phone. He was using Scout’s personal account. This account had zero organization, unlike the one he used for youtuber related posts. Spy followed both accounts originally to gather information about Scout. The RED Spy had little to no social media presence outside of a few throwaway accounts Alain was able to connect to him. Those seemed to be for doxxing people and surveillance. Not uncommon for a spy in this day and age.

They had to give RED Spy a little credit there, for a 51 year old man, he at least had the sense to learn how to use technology to his advantage. A lesser spy from his age group would have ignored the advantages things like the internet posed to people in their profession. Adaptability is one of the most important skills a spy could have after all. The ability to change plans and think on one’s feet is essential and can be the difference between life and death in most cases. Alain had some close calls in the past because they became too used to a routine, and therefore became predictable.

Of course there was no avoiding routines here at Fortress, but there was definitely more leeway considering how well protected they were. Fortress was well known for being the most long lived employer of mercenaries in the world. With Mann Co being the longest lived supplier of weapons and goods to mercenaries. Companies like this don’t last that long by being weak and vulnerable to attacks. Well, ordinary companies typically don’t have to worry about physical attacks, only ones that involved mercs. That wasn’t to say these companies and mercenary-involved companies never interacted, though.

Due to the nature of their competition, mercenary companies had to deal with others trying to steal their intelligence, jobs, and other private information much more frequently. This may not have been legal, but it was the kind of illicit activity law enforcement could care less about so long as they were bribed. Alain had been hired plenty of times by both mercenary-involved and ordinary companies to steal information.

Bandit was likely a spy sent to do just that, probably hired by one of Saxton Hale’s long list of sworn enemies. It was certainly more believable than that flimsy fusion alibi Bandit came up with. Though as Spy observed him, they couldn’t help but notice similarities between the man and those he claimed formed him.

For one thing he shared Scout’s fidgety nature, ninety percent of the time Bandit had some part of him moving. Right now he was playing with his weird tie on a dog-tag chain type thing, running the fabric through his fingers over and over. As for his relation to RED Spy, he definitely cared about his looks quite a bit. Alain observed him checking himself in the mirror just as often as Ren.

It was still a bit weird that they knew and were allowed to call the REDs by their real names now. Although it was definitely better than shouting someone’s class and having two people respond at the same time. Having to say the team color along with the class was kind of a mouthful.

Bandit unplugged his earbuds and set them on the table. He jumped from his seat and ran over to the place his wireless headphones were charging. Putting them on and holding the button on the right earphone, he turned on Bluetooth and connected it to his phone.

Looks like it was going to be another hour of watching Bandit run back and forth again. That was also something he shared with RED Scout. Spy moved themselves to a better vantage point, somewhere safely out of Bandit’s path. They stood in their corner, annoyed that they still had nothing on this man who claimed to be one of their coworkers.

Spy wasn’t the only one that was annoyed, though. Bandit knew that Spy was watching him. At this point it was pretty obvious. For one thing, he rarely saw them outside of mealtimes anymore. And even when he did see them, they always asked questions that seemed to imply something. Like they were trying to get information, or implanting some idea in his head.

Bandit wasn’t dumb, he could tell that something was up with Spy from the get go. Alain’s expression during the meeting may have seemed neutral to the untrained eye, but Bandit had plenty of experience reading microexpressions, and not even the BLU Spy had been able to cover up those completely.

It was obvious that Alain was suspicious of him, and Bandit supposed he would find the whole thing fishy as well if he was in their place.That didn’t change the fact that being watched at practically every hour was extremely unnerving. Withdrawal only made it worse, and so did the emotional dysregulation from Scout’s ADHD. He did his best not to let any of that show, though.

For the past few days Bandit had chosen to lay low until BLU Spy finally figured out that he was no threat. There was really nothing he was actively trying to hide, aside from Spy’s scars. Despite the fact they had taken pictures of Spy making love to Louis’ mother when they were dating, Spy always made sure to wear a disguise under his mask that hid his scars before having sex. It had only been cosmetic, she could still feel the raised skin when her hands brushed over them. But Ren didn’t like to look at them, and it hid the scars from any prying eyes. Alain had already seen Scout’s scars a few years ago, but that’s a story for another day.

Right now Bandit was pacing back and forth as Touch Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon blared from his headphones. Stimming like this was one of Scout’s and by extension Bandit’s favorite pastimes. But he felt awkward doing this when he knew people were staring, even if he couldn’t see Spy anywhere, the knowledge was enough to make him tone down his movements. Much to his frustration.

After a few hours of switching between pacing, going on the internet, and drawing Bandit’s mind gave him this gem: He should totally mess with Spy. He stifled a smile, and pulled out a sticky note. Swiveling his head back and forth, pretending to look around for anyone, he hid the little piece of pink paper and scribbled something down. He quickly folded it and shoved it into his pocket. This should be fun.

Bandit eventually got bored of scrolling through Tumblr and Youtube, so he decided to pay Engie a visit. The RED one, he didn’t know BLU Engie all that well. Of course RED Spy had stalked him, like he did with pretty much everyone here.

Hey!

Shh, you should have probably guessed that by now.

I know, but still. Hey!

Whatever, as he was saying; stalking someone and knowing them personally were two completely different things. They had only been working with the BLUs for about a year now, and quite frankly neither of them had much of an interest in befriending the BLU Engineer. To be honest, most of the BLUs disliked Ren because they just disliked spies in general. Whatever, if they wanted to hold grudges, then that was their own problem.

Bandit strolled into the shared workshop, announcing his presence, “Hey Engie.” Both Engineers looked up from their individual projects.

Bandit sighed, rolling his eyes, “I mean Dell.”

The RED Engineer wiped some motor oil off of his gloves, “What can I do for you, Bandit?”

“I don’t know. Wanna take a break and hang out?” He shrugged. Bandit knew that Engie would be in the workshop all day if he didn’t have the same needs as any other human being. Memories of Spy finding Engie passed out at his workstation flooded his mind. It wasn’t that he preferred work over socializing, he just didn’t know how to take breaks. This would be good for both Bandit’s boredom and Engie’s workaholic nature.

“Uh,” Engie glanced on the new sentry prototype he was working on, “Yeah, sure. Just let me clean up a bit.”

“You better! I don’t want any of that gunk on me,” Bandit laughed.

Engie held out his arms jokingly, “Aw, what? You don’t want a hug?”

Bandit snorted, “No way! I don’t know if combining clothes with Scout made my clothes more or less expensive, but you’re paying to replace them if I find even the tiniest drop of oil on them!”

Engie chuckled, “Alright, alright.”

They headed to Dell’s room so he could change into something clean. Bandit leaned against the wall next to the door, expecting to wait for him to finish.

“Aw, it’s fine. Come on in,” Engie said, opening the door for him.

Bandit blinked, but complied. Sitting on the bed and bouncing his leg, he watched Engie shuffle through his drawers for a fresh set of clothes. He pulled out a red plaid flannel and a basic pair of jeans.

Before Bandit could react, Engie had shucked his dirty t-shirt onto the floor. Some people might call what Dell has going on a ‘Dad bod,’ and yes, Bandit supposed he could see why, to an extent. But he also had the figure of someone who carries around heavy machinery all day. Not like a bodybuilder, no, their muscles were mostly for show. Engie had proper muscles, not as obvious just by looking, but solid and decently toned.

Bandt glanced at his chest, his eyes going to the scars right under both of Dell’s pecs from top surgery that happened years ago. He supposed Engie being trans added a whole other layer of trust to changing in front of him. It wasn’t like he kept it a secret, he had told the team from the get-go. Perhaps he didn’t want to give Spy the chance to use it against him. Not that he would have, Spy wasn’t that cruel.

Everyone had reacted positively anyway, Soldier being the most enthusiastic. Well, he was pretty much always enthusiastic, but he had been especially so because he came out as trans too. Soldier had also offered to have his roommate use some sort of magic to help Engie transition, but he had politely declined.

“So, you getting used to everything alright?” Engie asked, snapping Bandit back to reality.

He blushed, realizing he had been staring at Dell the whole time. Engie let out a little chuckle at that.

Clearing his throat, Bandit replied, “Uh, yeah. It’s still kind of weird, being an entirely new person, but I also feel the same somehow? Like, the Spy part of me is used to being Spy, but at the same time the Scout part of me isn’t used to being Spy. Does that make any sense?”

He glanced up for a moment only to avert his gaze back to the floor. That sight of Dell stepping into his jeans elicited some conflicting emotions that he would, quite frankly, rather do without.

“Yeah, I guess I can understand that. Heh, this’d probably be much harder to understand if Scout didn’t make us binge watch Steven Universe with him,” Engie chuckled.

Bandit laughed too, “Yeah, definitely. Hey! Maybe that’s why Spy’s been following me around these past couple days! They haven’t seen the show!”

“What,” Engie asked, paling.

“Yeah! It’s been so annoying! I’ve been trying to lay low so he’ll lay off me. But the guy just won't stop. So what’s the point of keeping up this little song and dance anymore? This clearly isn’t doing anything. Hell, he’s probably in this room right now.”

Oh. OH.

Engie shifted nervously, looking around the room. And as if on cue, there BLU Spy appeared, right in the corner. They both flinched, but they just strode over, seemingly unperturbed by their reactions.

“So, you finally figured it out? Hm, I expected longer,” Alain said, like they were commenting on the news.

“Of course I noticed! You’ve been ghosting me ever since you got here!” Bandit shot. That wasn’t the only thing that tipped him off, but he wasn’t about to give Spy tips on how to improve their stalking.

Engie shouted, “Now what do you think you’re doing in here?!” His face was absolutely red with anger and embarrassment.

“Relax, laborer. I have enough self control to keep my eyes off you.” They glanced at Bandit, “Unlike, somebody.”

Bandit gasped, “You-!” He made the motions to get up.

Engie put a hand on his shoulder, “No, let me handle this.”

Dell gave Alain the meanest glare he could conjure up, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I was-”

“No! I don’t wanna hear it! I don’t care about any of your crappy excuses! I invited Bandit to chat with me while I changed, not you!”

“But we’re-”

“Both trans! Yeah, well that doesn’t mean shit. I don’t feel comfortable with you seeing me in my undies. ‘Specially not since you think hiding in someone’s room while they’re getting dressed is acceptable so long as you don’t look at them. How am I supposed to know you weren’t looking, huh?”

“Well I-”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!!! Just-just get out already,” Engie said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“But laborer, he could be-”

“I said GET OUT!!!”

That did the trick. Almost as if they were running from the flames of a pyro, Spy darted out of the room. Finally, Bandit was practically suffocating with them around. Engie followed them to the door, slammed it, and locked it with a huff.

He stomped over to the bed and fell face first into the mattress. A muffled groan escaped his mouth. Not the kind he wanted-

Nope! Stop that right now! Stop thinking with your dick!

What? You think I like it when I have to deal with your thoughts about the bushman?

Bandit felt like his brain was short circuiting. Clearly avoiding conflicting subjects was a lot harder than initially thought. Why must he be like this? He wondered whether these would count as intrusive thoughts. At least one of his halves objected to them whenever he thought of one of their crushes.

“Um, Bandit?”

Snapped out of his thoughts, he turned to look at Engie. He had removed his face from the mattress and was looking at him with a confused and concerned expression.

“Huh? Sorry what?” Bandit asked, assuming Dell had asked him a question.

“Are you alright? You seem kind of out of it.”

“Oh, yeah I’m fine. Probably Scout’s part of the brain being weird. Nothing new there.”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that. Scout doesn’t really space out mid conversation like you do. And when he does it’s not so abrupt, you can tell when he’s getting bored or distracted by something else. You also get this kind of dazed look on your face. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it seems different from the usual look people get when they’re spaced out. And I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing or not.”

Spy wasn’t the only one good at analyzing people. Engie may not go flaunting his PhDs around like some other scholars his components have known over the years, but in moments like these he really needed to take a step back and admire the man. Don’t get him wrong though, plenty of his coworkers are skilled in reading people as well, for different reasons.

That being said, Bandit shifted a bit. He felt a bit guilty for making Engie worry. Bandit let out an awkward chuckle, “Maybe the Spy part of me didn’t make me as slick as I thought huh?”

Engie shifted to a seated position, “Nah, I’ve been around those two too long to not notice these things.” He gave Bandit a smile.

Bandit returned it, “It’s really not that serious, mon ami. I was just kind of...talking to myself? No, let me rephrase that: My components were talking to each other, they were in disagreement about something, and that meant I had to do the thinking for them both at the same time.”

“Huh, that’s strange. Does that happen all the time?”

“No, like, I can still make decisions without having those two on my shoulders trying to talk me in one direction or another. Usually it’s hard to tell which one of them my thoughts are coming from. So, I just think of those thoughts as coming from me. Not Scout or Spy. But when I get to something they disagree on, then I don’t feel like me that much.”

“Do you think of yourself as a different person from them?”

Bandit rubbed his face, “Well, I might as well be. I feel different from them. But also I am them in some ways? I mean, I think for the most part I’m different from them. Probably. Maybe. I don’t know.” He fell backwards onto the bed. “Ugggh!”

“Quite the existential conundrum you have there,” Engie said, glancing over his shoulder at Bandit.

He groaned again, “I am so sick of this shit. I guess the best answer is that I’m both them and me? But how is that possible? And why do I give a flying fuck about any of this in the first place? I’m a new person but I’m also the same, why can’t that be enough for me?”

Engie considered this for a moment, then replied, “I’m no psychologist, but maybe you’re all hung up about this because you don’t know what it means to be yourself yet. You don’t know who Bandit is, because up until now all you’ve ever been is Scout and Spy. They’ve had more time to figure out who they are than you’ve had. So it’s probably hard to let go of the idea that you’re not them, because if you’re not them, then who are you?”

That made Bandit sit up, “Are you sure one of those PhDs wasn’t in psychology? Because holy shit.”

“Promise,” Dell said, smiling and holding his hands up.

“Um, yeah. I suppose you’re right. I guess don’t know who I am, really. And even though Scout and Spy’s personalities influence how I act and feel, I’m still different from them in a lot of ways. I just don’t know how.”

“You’ll figure it out, Band.”

Engie’s explanation certainly helped, but Bandit wasn’t really sure what to do about this new discovery. It wasn’t a good feeling, not knowing who he was. None of the fusions from Steven Universe had to deal with this, did they? No, they just accepted that they were ‘an experience,’ whatever that means. Why couldn’t Bandit make this a good experience like them? Shouldn’t he be having fun? Sure, he wanted to be excited at the prospect of exploring who he was, but there was something keeping him from doing that.

Maybe he could use a therapy session with Medic. He could probably help Bandit sort out all this bullshit. The doctor knows pretty much everything when it comes to health, both mental and physical. Bandit remembers his halves hearing jokes about how he sold his soul to the devil for that knowledge. At this point it wouldn’t surprise him to learn that was true. Medic has certainly broken the laws of nature before, and continues to do so frequently. It would come as no surprise that some of what he does is more magic than science.

There was only one problem with going to see Medic: BLU Spy. Nothing Bandit or the doc say during the session would be confidential. Alain would just be standing in the corner, taking notes on any potential weakness Bandit may have. Killing them would only piss them off, making the problem worse. Engie kicking Alain out only meant that Bandit was temporarily free from their prying eyes. They were probably keeping an ear to the door right now.

Thinking of BLU Spy, Engie’s initial look of shock and embarrassment from earlier flooded into Bandit’s head. He spoke up, “Hey Engie?”

“Yep?”

Bandit folded his hands together, staring at them as they rested on his lap, “I should have said something earlier about Spy following me. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, it’s fine. ‘Sides, they were the one who decided to come in uninvited,” Engie waved dismissively.

“But I should have said something.”

Shaking his head, Engie said, “Son, it's fine. It was an honest mistake; you had other things on your mind. I ain’t mad at you, promise.”

“Okay...” Bandit replied, still feeling a bit guilty. Why hadn’t he thought about how Spy’s stalking affected the people around him? He was just too focused on how this was affecting him that he couldn’t see how anything anyone just wanted to keep between them and Bandit could be heard and seen by Alain too. But what was he supposed to do to get rid of them?

Telling others might make them more aggressive in their investigation. Nothing fuels a search for evidence more than the need to be proven right. Confirmation bias sure is a bitch. BLU Spy probably had heaps of evidence right in front of them that they were ignoring because they don’t believe Bandit’s story. That part really frustrated him.

“God, I just wish he would leave me the fuck alone,” Bandit complained.

“Yeah, they are pretty annoying. Never was a huge fan of theirs.”

“Me neither.” Bandit said, thinking back to the nudes they had taken of Spy and Wanda, BLU Scout’s mother. He then promptly banished the thought back to his subconscious, because the Scout part of him wasn’t that keen on looking at memories of his father being naked. Unfortunately that only served to remind him of the drawings he put in the bucket in place of everyone's dying wishes. Why past Scout? Why? He cringed internally.

Bandit pulled out the sticky note from before and handed it to Engie, “I was going to mess with them and just act all suspicious, but this probably isn’t a really good prank is it?”

The note read: ‘Haha, you just dug through the trash for this.’ Engie gave Bandit an amused smile, “Bit too subtle. Probably be funnier if he wasn’t the only one to see he got duped.”

Subtlety was what Bandit had been going for when he wrote that note. He only wanted to piss Alain off a little, maybe make them a little paranoid that Bandit knew what they were doing. Just as payback for what they had been doing for the past few days. But the opportunity to reveal he knew Spy had been there all along had been so tempting, he decided to vent to Engie instead.

“Yeah, it seemed funnier when I wrote it down,” Bandit agreed. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to prank them when they’re watching me 24/7 though.”

“True, you really can’t set up anything extravagant like that, now can you?” Engie grinned, “But I sure can.”

Bandit’s face lit up.

Engie’s smile widened, “If he’s busy following you around all day, then his room’s gonna be empty, right?”

Ooooh, he was liking where this was going.

“I was thinking something along the lines of completely covering his floor with plastic cups filled to the brim with water. I could leave some behind his door so that when he opens it they’ll all fall down like dominoes.”

Existential woes forgotten, Bandit beamed, “Engie you’re a genius! Mon dieu, he’s gonna be pissed.” He laughed. “Definitely put a camera in there too, I wanna see the look on their face when they see it.”

Hold on, that gave him an idea. But it could wait until after Engie’s prank. There was no way he was letting a chance for revenge slip by.

They parted ways after awhile. The plan would take place tomorrow, roughly after breakfast. That way Engie would have enough time to set everything up by the time Alain got back to their room. Bandit let Dell borrow his watch, so that he wouldn’t be seen doing the deed. Engie snuck in the cups with the other groceries while Bandit kept Spy busy with watching him play Minecraft, about an hour after they agreed on the plan.

All they had to do now was wait.

Chapter Text

Alain stalked down the hall, hearing Engie’s bedroom door slam behind them. Fine! Don’t listen to them! Have fun getting murdered by that intruder. And when respawn brings Engie back to life and his senses, Spy will be there to tell him ‘I told you so.’ He may have cut Spy off before they could explain, but Dell wasn’t dumb. He could figure out why Alain had been stalking Bandit on his own.

And who knows? Maybe Bandit already killed respawn, and Engie wouldn’t come back. Spy wasn’t particularly attached to him, but the REDs certainly were. Not that Spy wanted him to die. They’re not a psychopath. It was just hard to make friends with a man who still holds a grudge against you. Apparently Dell still hadn’t gotten over all the times they sapped his buildings.

Oh well, it wasn’t like Alain was particularly heartbroken about that. They were aware that their job had frustrated the REDs back when they were enemies. The BLUs felt likewise about the RED Spy too. Apparently they saw stealth as underhanded and an illegitimate tactic. Whatever, let them. They didn’t need to be friends, they just needed to tolerate each other enough to work together.

Nonetheless, this gave them the chance to investigate the RED Medic’s apparent involvement in whatever scheme Bandit had cooked up. 

Marching their way over to the infirmary, they formulated an interrogation plan. Best to hold off any accusations of conspiracy between the doctor and Bandit. Perhaps Ludwig was being fooled like everyone else. And if he wasn’t innocent, it was best to coax the answers out of him rather than demand them. More flies can be attracted with honey than vinegar after all.

“Doctor, may I speak to you in private?” Spy asked, peeking through the doorway.

Medic looked up from his paperwork and raised a brow, “Uhh, sure?” 

He got up from his seat and they headed towards the therapy room. It was the most private room he could think of. The other Medic or someone else could just waltz into the infirmary at any time, so it likely wasn’t an ideal place to have a private conversation.

“So...what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” Medic asked, visibly confused. “You’re not exactly one of my patients, so I’m not sure what this is all about.”

Spy took their seat across from him, and folded their hands in their lap. “I was just wondering how exactly you came to the conclusion that Bandit was indeed a fusion of RED Spy and Scout.”

Medic stiffened, ah, so that was their angle. “Well, Herr Alain. I asked him to show me something that proved he was who he said, and he did.”

“And what was that?” Alain raised their brows.

“It is not my place to share that information with you.”

They frowned, “You do realize that doesn’t answer my question.”

Shrugging, Medic said, “I’m afraid that’s all I can say.”

Alain narrowed their eyes, “Why are you covering for him?”

“Spy, I’m not telling you their secrets. Not only would I be losing the trust of my patients, but I would be losing the trust of my friends as well. I will not reveal something so personal about them to you, and that is final,” Medic said, leveling a firm look.

“Doctor, you must understand why I am concerned about this. Surely you see how suspicious the idea of our coworkers ‘mysteriously’ becoming fused is?”

Medic sighed, “Yes, I do. It is strange. But we have seen and fought things much stranger than this . And I understand why you would want more concrete proof than just my word, but you are not going to get anything else out of me. I’m afraid you will just have to trust me on this.”

Ah, so Ludwig was playing hard to get, was he? Fine, they could work with this.

“But how can I trust your word? Everything you have said has convinced me that you’re not completely innocent yourself.”

Groaning, Medic replied, “Listen, Spy. You can ask all you want, follow me around, go through my shit, but all that will do is make you look like an idiot in the end.”

Spy gave Medic an offended look. The nerve of this man! If Alain didn’t believe Medic was involved in Bandit’s scheme, they sure did now!

“Well excuse me for being the voice of reason here!” They stalked over to the door, slamming it behind them. Fuck this. Spy didn’t have to put up with any further insults.

Cloaking, Alain went to go look for Bandit again. He had spent long enough with Spy’s supervision in their opinion.

Bandit dragged himself out of bed the next morning, feeling as if someone had turned his bones to lead overnight. As much as he wanted to lie in bed all day and feel like garbage, he had stuff to do. Namely keeping Spy far away from their bedroom long enough for Engie to enact his part of the plan. Bandit couldn’t do his part if he didn’t show up to breakfast. Even if he wasn’t particularly hungry at the moment. Besides, people will worry, and that would just complicate things.

He combined his counterparts respective sets of clothes and headed to the bathroom. It was much easier to get dressed when he didn’t have to go to the trouble of putting on two of everything. Sure, he could mix and match their clothes, but he had an aesthetic to keep up. 

Shutting the door, he got dressed in the pitch black bathroom. That had been a tip given to him by the BLU Scout when he complained how weird it was to get dressed and take showers while he was like this. Maybe if his components weren’t related seeing himself naked would have been easier. Bandit didn’t know if it would be rude to call this dysphoria, but Louis’ tip certainly helped lessen the awkwardness significantly. It also had the bonus of not showing Alain his scars.

Breakfast went as it usually did. The only change Bandit really noticed was that Spy was eyeing Medic a bit more than usual. Of course they looked at Bandit just as much, if not more now that they knew he was aware of what they were doing. 

Bandit tossed the sticky note from the day before on his way out. If Alain decided to dig through the trash for it, Bandit didn’t stick around to watch. It wouldn’t make much of a difference if he did. Spy had something much bigger coming up later. Now that was something worth seeing.

So he set about making sure he chose a spot far away from Spy’s room. It wasn’t that hard, considering that the BLUs had their rooms in a separate wing from the REDs. A big chunk of that time was spent drawing digitally and recording footage for later editing and uploading to Scout’s art channel. Bandit could still draw just fine in Scout’s usual style, so he did, not feeling like adding an explanation for any sudden changes to the start.

The piece he was working on was bigger and more detailed than he usually made for videos, but Bandit figured his audience could use a treat, considering how he had to put his gaming channel on hold until further notice. The day Bandit came into existence he uploaded a video just consisting of white text on a black background, explaining that he couldn’t make let’s plays at the moment, but that he would still be able to make regular updates to his art channel.

It was probably best to keep this whole fusion thing a secret from Scout’s fans, at least until he could prove that it actually happened. People in the comments were,of course, asking why he couldn’t do let’s plays. Some people expressed concern for his well being, which was considerably nicer than those who choose to bitch about the lack of content. There was a bit of anger from one of his components thinking of that.

Whatever, Scout had dealt with worse comments before, and has since learned to ignore them better. Even then, some things still slipped through his defenses and got under his skin. Mostly that happened when he was already in a bad mood though. Positive comments may be good for raising his spirits, but by now he knows that no matter the quantity of people leaving comments in support, his mind would always latch onto the ...less than kind comments.

Medic advised him to avoid the comment sections altogether on his bad days. That was probably for the best, because he really didn’t need to read about someone telling him to off himself while he was depressed. But he did sometimes save really nice comments to a folder to look at when he gets this way. 

It seemed that for some inexplicable reason, today was just one of those days. Bandit should have been excited. After all, as he was sitting there drawing, Engie was setting up an awesome prank in BLU Spy’s room. Instead he felt like he was a phone on low battery.

He wanted to just lay in Scout’s bed and take a nap, but then Alain might decide to wander off once he finally fell asleep. Then they might catch Engie doing his part of the plan, and Bandit wasn’t about to let that happen. But still, he could feel the temptation to climb under the covers and close his eyes ‘for just a few minutes’ pulling at him.

Instead, he decided heading to the kitchen to grab a can of Bonk! would be better. Caffeine at least helped a little with the drowsiness, so he paused his screen capture, locked the desktop, and headed to the kitchen.

He found the RED Sniper, Mundy, in there, sipping a cup of coffee at one of the tables, and reading some news article on his phone. Bandit meandered over to the fridge and pulled a cherry Bonk! out, then plopped down across from him. 

“Hey bushman,” He said.

Sniper powered off his phone and looked at Bandit, “Hey, mate.”

“How’s it going?” Bandit asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Mundy shrugged, “Eh, alright. Same shit different day, you know?”

Bandit nodded and made a noncommittal grunt, his eyes drifting down to the table.

This, of course, didn’t go unnoticed by Sniper. Bandit may be part Spy, and therefore not as chatty, but he knew better than to assume he was just leaning on the Spy side a little more than usual. Call it a gut instinct, but he got the sense that something was up with his friend. “How ‘bout you?” He asked, raising a brow.

“I’m fin-,” He started, almost reflexively. Sniper gave him a look, promptly shutting that shit down.

“Uh, well, I mean; I’m kinda having an off day I guess.” Bandit took a sip of his drink.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know; just woke up feeling shitty.” Bandit shrugged, “So now I’m gonna fill my bloodstream with caffeine so I don’t take a depression nap and fuck up my sleep schedule again.”

Sniper gave him a sympathetic look and nodded, “Sounds like a solid plan, anything I can do to help?”

“I’m not sure, Snipes. There’s really not much to talk about, and things in general just really aren’t doing it for me right now. If you want to hang out I’d be cool with it, though,” he said, fiddling with the tab on the can.

Bandit knew he really wasn’t the most fun person to be around when he gets like this, and he felt bad for not being able to contribute to the conversation like he usually does.

On the other hand, maybe people preferred it when he was quiet. Not a lot of people like chatterboxes like Scout. Maybe they liked Bandit better because he was less annoying. 

No, that’s not true, and you know it.

Do I? C’mon, it’s not like I haven’t seen the looks on people’s faces when I talk. I know when people are sick of me.

Scout has certainly lost plenty of friends over the years by being ‘the annoying one.’ Eventually they get tired of tolerating his bullshit, and either start ghosting him or just tell him to leave outright. He tried his best to be someone they actually wanted to be around, but sometimes that just wasn’t enough.

Maybe the guys here like him now , but if he ever becomes too much of a nuisance then that could change. It wouldn’t be a quick change either, drifting away takes time. It always starts small, either with jokes about how he’s loud and talkative, then it progresses to bigger things, like giving dismissive responses to things he says, to making plans without him. 

That’s why he has to be careful about what he does and says. Because if he doesn’t, people just won’t want to be around him. 

Do you really think so little of us?

What? No! You guys are my best friends, and I love you. It’s just that I’m really bad at being normal, and people just can’t help but be annoyed. That’s on me, not any of you guys.

Why the hell would you think that?

Bandit could feel this component, who sounded a lot like Spy, grow angrier as several memories of people that both intentionally and unintentionally hurt Jeremy flew by. Very few of them used those exact words, but their actions spoke volumes about what they really meant.

Teachers sending him out of the room for crying, saying things like he was ‘Distracting the other students.’ Coaches telling him to ‘man up.’ Countless people telling him that ‘there really is no reason to cry over something so small.’ Along with so many looks of annoyance, and words of rejection for being hyperactive and enjoying himself. 

The room blurred around him, as voices filled his ears with the sounds of the words he’d rather forget. Rage from one end and fear mixed with humiliation from the other tried desperately to rip his psyche in two. 

“Please, it’s not their fault. It’s mine.” He begged.

“No it’s not! They shouldn’t be able to get away with hurting you like that!”

Tears leaked from his eyes as the voices got louder, “They didn’t mean to.”

“That’s beside the point! It’s not your fault they acted that way towards you!”

The room spun around him, colors blending together. He wasn’t sure if that was from the tears or not, but at this point his heart was racing too much to care. Faceless people stood around him, shouting now.

“Look, can you just drop it? I get it, it sucks, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.” He wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his sleeves towards his chest like a security blanket.

“No I can’t just ‘drop it,’ not when what they said influences you this much .” 

“Please,” He sobbed, “Just stop. I don’t-”

Suddenly the air became much thinner, like he was on top of a mountain. This was too much. Nothing made sense and he could barely make out a single thing in the room. Spots filled his vision, and he could hear his ears ringing as everything faded to black.

“.......hey….c’mon”

“Band….”

“Wake ...buddy…”

Bandit winced, feeling his head on a hard surface. He had a pounding headache, but the voice wouldn’t let up. Seeing as he wasn’t about to be left alone anytime soon, he pulled himself from his half-conscious state.

“It’s alright, I’m right here,” The voice- no, Sniper said.

“Fuck…” Bandit groaned. He peeled his eyes open, then immediately regretted it, as blinding while light burned his retinas. “Gck,” he said, shutting them and clamping a hand over his face.

“You awake?” Sniper asked, his normally quiet voice sounding like a bomb going off next to his face.

“Shut…”

Giving him a confused look, Mundy asked, “Whaddya mean, mate?”

“Louuuudddd,” Bandit complained. 

“Oh, sorry,” he whispered, somehow that was still oddly loud, but at least it was an improvement.

“ S’okay.” Bandit said, pressing his forehead to the table. “Just ...just give me a minute, mon ami.”

Thankfully, Mundy said nothing and allowed him to recover from ...whatever that was. Slowly but surely his headache seemed to fade, until it seemed only the pain from dropping his head to the table was all that remained. 

Soon enough, he felt okay to try opening his eyes once again. The brightness still stung, but after a few moments of shading his eyes with his hand, he was eventually able to look at Sniper without squinting.

“Okay, I’m good now,” he said, quietly.

‘Is it alright to talk out loud?’ Sniper asked, signing.

“Yeah, just whisper for now.”

“What happened? ” Sniper asked, quietly.

Honestly? Bandit really had no idea how to explain that. All he knew was that his counterparts were arguing, and then the next thing he knew he was face down on the table with a massive migraine.

“I think….maybe my halves were trying to unfuse.” 

Sniper knitted his brows at him, “Well, you looked pretty, uh...mad and scared before you passed out. You wouldn’t even answer me when I tried to ask what was wrong, you just talked to yourself the whole time.”

“Did I?” Bandit blinked, “Sorry, I didn’t know you said anything, or that I was talking out loud.”

“It’s alright roo, it wasn’t your fault. I’m just worried, ‘cause I’m not sure what got you all twisted, but it didn’t sound good.”

Oh God, he wants to talk about it. Which, of course, makes sense. Anyone who had the misfortune of watching that whole display would logically want some kind of explanation. 

“Bushman, I would rather not pass out again, if it’s all the same to you. All I can say is that one of them went off on a tangent, and the other really didn’t like what that line of thought said.”

Sniper stared at him for a moment and bit his lip, before sighing and saying, “Alright. If you don’t wanna talk about it, then I guess I can’t make you. Probably should bring it up to the doc, though.”

“I know. I will.”

But when? How are we supposed to tell Medic anything without Alain listening in? He might bring up some other shit we don’t want them to know about, and then all our work to keep our shit private will go down the drain!

I know! Look, until we get them to keep out of our business, we can’t say a word of this to the doctor. 

This sucks, man. We shouldn’t be avoiding therapy like this. It never ends well. 

It’s a difficult situation, but I’m sure we can get through it.

Do you really believe that?

….

Thinking like that will get us nowhere.

Yeah...I guess so….

“Do you wanna hang out and watch something on Netflix with me?” Sniper offered, seeing as his friend could use a distraction.

“Sure,” Bandit shrugged.

They headed over to the tv room, and after a good ten minutes of staring at the screen and scrolling through the options, it became clear that Bandit wasn’t going to pick anything any time soon. Nothing was interesting at the moment, not even shows he knew he liked.

He handed the remote over to Sniper, “Here, you pick. I don’t care what it is; so long as it’s not Steven Universe.”

Mundy raised a brow, “You love that show, though.”

“Yeah, but I’m really not in the mood for anything fusion related right now.”

He had already spent quite some time studying the show, trying to figure out what exactly being a fusion meant. The only thing he could glean from the show was that fusion needs a deep bond in order to be stable. Bandit’s components were certainly close, but maybe there was more to it than cooperation.

Though, he wasn’t sure the whole ‘close bond’ part applied here, considering he had been formed unwillingly. Maybe if they had been fused around the time Spy was trying to make amends, then Bandit probably would have been less stable. 

Whatever, he could save mulling over that line of thought for another time. Right now he wants to get away from all that and get lost in a good show or movie. Sniper seemed to have settled on Supergirl. A pretty good show, though he didn’t feel as invested in it as he usually did. Nonetheless, it was something to do that wasn’t laying in his bed and taking a depression nap, so he watched anyway.

Hopefully this whole thing wasn’t the start of a full on depressive episode. Bandit was pretty sure both his components having depression meant he has like, double depression. Was that even a thing? Maybe. Though Medic would probably tell him that’s not even remotely how it works.

There was no point in going down that line of thought, though. All that matters is that Spy’s getting owned once they see the state of their room. Hopefully Bandit would get a few molecules of serotonin for that. If not, he at least had a plan to stop their creepy stalking. But that could wait until the prank was done. For now, he’d just sit here and watch this with Sniper while he waited for retribution.

Chapter Text

Bandit let out a sigh, staring blankly at his computer screen. Watching Netflix with Sniper may have given him a small break from the depression and boredom that invaded his soul, but that was a while ago. Now it was after dinner, and he was finishing editing the video he recorded earlier that day. This part was his least favorite of the whole video making process, but if he put it off any longer he knew it would never get done.

Though, his motivation to do much of anything was starting to wane as of late. He wasn’t dumb, by now he knew the weight upon his shoulders was the tendrils of depression clinging to him like a tumor. He also knew that if he didn’t address them sooner rather than later, they would only pull him deeper into its inky depths.

Unfortunately, there was a pretty big roadblock between him and treatment. Alain was still stalking him, and there was no way Bandit was going to have a therapy session while that guy could just hide in the corner, taking notes about his mental state. If there was one thing that he felt through this numb haze, it was anger.

Anger at Spy for invading his privacy, anger at Merasmus for getting him into this mess in the first place, and anger at his absolutely awful luck. Why did the world hate him so much? Maybe he was an asshole in a previous life. Or maybe he was one in this life. Yeah that one made more sense.

More than anything right now, he wanted to curl up in bed and sleep the rest of this debacle away. As much as the idea of wasting time or turning in early made him want to groan, it sounded more productive than waiting around for Soldier to track down the wizard, or for Demo to figure out a cure. Of course Bandit had offered to help Jane with his search, but he had insisted his help wasn’t necessary. You know, despite the fact that one of Bandit’s components is specialized in tracking down people. 

Whatever, Soldier had more experience with Merasmus, so maybe he’d have better luck. Part of him wanted to argue that no, that didn’t mean jack shit, and Bandit would be better off looking for the man himself, but a much stronger part of him told him he didn’t have the energy for such a task. Not now, not when he’s having such a shitty day.

So, instead he’s just sitting here, making youtube videos instead of going out and solving the problem like a useless piece of shit.

No, no he’s not a piece of shit. Bandit sighed again. He really should talk to Medic about this. All these self-critical thoughts were really getting out of hand.

If only Spy wasn’t determined to stalk him 24/7. 

Okay, okay; that’s enough wallowing for now. Do any more and he’ll get caught in another spiral of hopelessness. Think of something positive .

Like how Spy’s going to get totally owned once he sees the state of his bedroom tonight.  Hopefully Engie manages to catch that on video. Seeing his face when he realizes what happened is gonna be absolutely priceless, and should provide Bandit with at least the tiniest of serotonin. God knows his brain could use some of that right now.  After Spy has been sufficiently punished, then Bandit will enact his plan to get him off his back, once and for all. It was a pretty simple plan, and unless Spy is a complete idiot, then there should be no denying that Bandit is who he says he is from this point onward.

There was a knock on his door, and Bandit called out, “It’s open,” to whoever was on the other side. 

It creaked open, and in stepped Engie.

“Oh hey, your project done?”

“Yep,” he grinned. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Hell yeah,” Bandit returned the smile. 

Engie sat himself on Scout’s bed, and looked over Bandt’s shoulder at the screen. “What’cha working on?”

“Just a speedpaint. Can’t really do let’s plays when I’m like this.”

Dell knit his eyebrows together in confusion, “Uhh, what exactly are let’s plays again?”

“You know,” Bandit said, deleting some unnecessary footage, “Those videos of me playing games.”

“Ah.” Engie nodded. “Can I see the thing you drew?”

“Sure.” He pulled up the file and double clicked it, putting it in view mode. It was a fanart for Steven Universe of Lapis in her mirror, trying to break out. Where her fist met the glass a spider web of cracks formed.

Peering over his shoulder, Dell let out a low whistle. “Gorgeous piece, I’ve gotta say. Little dark, though.”

“Really?” Bandit opened photoshop and pulled up the file. He dragged the brightness up a touch. “That better?”

“No, sweetheart,” Engie chuckled, “I meant the subject matter.”

“Oh.” He exited out of the program. “But, you know, the show can be pretty dark sometimes.”

Engie nodded, “True, but you usually draw more sad things when you’re not in the best headspace.”

 “Eh, I’ve been worse.”

“I know that,” Engie said, getting up. He walked over to the desk and spun Bandit around to face him, “And you know that’s not a reason to keep it all in, right?”

Bandit flushed, and averted his gaze, “Yeah, I know.”

“So what’s the problem, son? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

He looked Engie in the eyes, “I know I can talk to you about anything.”

“What are you-” Dell looked at him, puzzled, before the realization hit him. “Oh. Oh honey…” he said, sadly. Caressing Bandit’s face comfortingly, Dell asked, “Is he keeping you from opening up?”

“Yeah… don’t get me wrong, I want to talk about all this shit. I probably should go do a session with Medic, but I just…” His eyes misted up, and he took a second to try and calm his breathing. Enige pulled him into a hug.

“Oh darling, I think I get what you’re saying. You’re worried the spook’s gonna be listening in, yeah?”

“Basically,” Bandit sniffed, “Fuck, I can’t keep my goddamn shit together today, can I?”

Engie hushed him, “It’s alright, partner. Just let out what you gotta let out. C’mon, why don’t we head to a comfier spot now?”

Bandit made no protest as he was guided towards the bed. The wet fabric under his eyes stuck to his face uncomfortably, so he shucked off his mask and hat, tossing them onto his desk haphazardly. It didn’t matter if Dell and Alain saw his face. His complexion is different enough from Spy’s that it hardly matters whether or not he keeps the mask on.

This did surprise Dell, though the only indication he let slip was a slight rise of the brows. Nonetheless, he pushed aside this feeling quickly, pulling Bandit into his arms. He ran his fingers through his friend’s dark brown hair comfortingly, as Bandit let out a sob.

It wasn’t fair, why was everything so much today? He was fine yesterday, pissed off, and kind of stressed, but fine . Now all of a sudden depression decides to rear its ugly head again? Why now, when he actually has something to look forward to? 

He should be excited! He should be waiting at the edge of his seat in anticipation, but instead he’s crying his eyes out, having his second breakdown that day. Why couldn’t his emotions make sense for once?

“Shh, I’ve got you. I’m here.” Engie said, his smooth voice a welcome contrast to the tumbling storm inside his heart. “I know things suck right now, but we’ll get through this.”

“I can’tー” a harsh sob wracked his body, “I can’t do this anymore, Dell! Everything's too- too much! I can’t take it anymore!”

Engie rubbed his back, “I know, sweetheart. It’s gotta be hard keeping it all inside, yeah?”

“I wish I could say more, honest, I do, but Spy’s probably in the corner taking notes about how pathetic I am.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Dell said, firm but sweet. “You’re under a lot of pressure. Everybody's got a set amount of bullshit they can endure before they start to crack, and you’re no exception. Ain’t no shame in being human.”

“It’s so embarrassing though...” Bandit cried, “I don’t want him to see me like this, even if he doesn’t do anything with what he knows, he still knows. It’s so fucking humilating !!!”

Engie cuddled him closer, “I understand, sweetheart; you have a right to keep your low points from him. It ain’t their business what you’re going through.”

“Yeah!” he sniffed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying! And the worst part is, he’s probably never gonna stop. Whatever ‘evidence’ he’s trying to gather isn’t gonna just show up, because yes, Spy, this is really happening!”

Who was he kidding? Alain was probably just going to take his efforts to stop his investigation as evidence in itself that he’s some sort of intruder. The way his luck was going, it would only make sense.

The unmistakable rushing sound of a spy decloaking filled their ears, and Bandit resisted the urge to turn around and face his stalker.

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” Alain said, arms crossed. "I must admit this... performance is impressive. But unfortunately I am not convinced.

“You have a lot of nerve, standing there like you did nothing wrong,” Engie growled, pressing Bandit against his chest protectively.

Alain’s face didn’t change, “Is it really that wrong of me to be suspicious of this person, or his flimsy alibi? I may not be entirely familiar with magic, but I know better than to trust something like that without doing some investigation of my own.”

Engie narrowed his eyes at him, “Son, I can understand where you’re coming from, but we already told you it’s really them. We made sure of it.”

Spy raised a brow, “Really? Then what exactly was it that proved he is who he really says?”

Bandit gazed up at Engie, pleading eyes puffy with tears. Dell looked down at him sympathetically, wiping away a bit of the wetness with the back of his hand. “I can’t tell you, son.” he said, without taking his eyes off Bandit. “That’s pretty damn personal information, and unless you were close with the two of them, you’d never know it anyway.”

Alain glared at him, “You do realize that he could have just found that information out by stalking them beforehand, right?”

“Then why the hell would he go to the trouble of watching the both of them?” Engie demanded. “Wouldn’t it be easier to impersonate just  one of them? C’mon, the whole fusion thing would be such a bad alibi if it were true; you said so yourself.”

His facade cracked a bit, and a slight scowl twisted Alain’s features. “Perhaps he doesn’t have a disguise kit. Not everyone has access to such a thing.”

Immediately, Bandit pulled his disguise kit out of his inventory, and flung it at Spy’s feet. He glared at Alain, face reddened with tears and silently dared him to come up with an explanation for that.

Alain faltered, then picked up the kit. Yes, it was definitely real, though it was missing the cigarettes the RED Spy usually likes to stash inside. “You could have stolen this.”

“THEN WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T I USE IT?!”

Spy flinched, as Bandit got to his feet and snatched it from his hands,

Bandit pulled on one of the masks, transforming himself into RED Spy. “See!!! Wouldn’t this be way easier than any of that bullshit!?”

“Uh, well,” Alain’s face flushed with embarrassment before his features twisted into a scowl. The man had a point, and that simple infuriated him, “Ugh!!! I’ll prove you’re not them, just you wait!” He poked Bandit in the chest. “And you, ” Spy turned to Engie, “Once you see who he really is, you’re going to look like a fool .”

“The only fool here is you,” Engie spat, “You outright refuse to see all the damn evidence we stacked right in front of you. Now unless you’re about to apologize, I suggest you get your ass out of here before I make you leave.”

“FINE!!!” he slammed the door shut, and his angry footsteps could be heard all down the hall.

Bandit let out a sob, “After all that, he―he still won’t believe me.” He buried his face in his hands, crying as Engie guided him back to the bed. Engie pulled the disguise off, setting it on the nightstand gently.

“They’ll come around eventually,” Engie said, rubbing his back. “Once they get their head screwed back on, they’re gonna realize how wrong they were.”

“But―but what if they never do?” Bandit sniffed, “W-what if, what if they just.. keep following me around until this is over? How long am I gonna have to avoid therapy, just so I don’t lose a-all my privacy?”

Engie caressed his cheek, “It won’t come to that, because if he doesn’t wisen up soon, then we’re gonna make sure he can’t follow you 24/7 like he’s been doing.”

“But how? ”

“Well, my idea is to get the rest of the team on the same page, and tell them what Al’s been doing. Also, confiscating their watch, and making sure there’s somebody to keep an eye on them when you’re in therapy. How does that sound?”

Bandit sniffed and rested his head against Dell’s chest, “A lot better, I think. They’re probably gonna find some way around it, though.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’m sure the others will have some good ideas for that too.”

Hopefully, though, it wouldn’t have to come to that. Maybe once Spy has some time to cool off, he’ll realize his mistake. Though, Bandit did have a point; he can be pretty stubborn when it comes to these things, so it’ll probably take more convincing to get him to admit his hunch was wrong.

“Anything else on your mind?” Engie asked, running his fingers through Bandit’s hair.

Bandit shrugged, “I don’t know. I just woke up depressed and wanting it all to be over already.”

Heart jumping a bit, Engie asked, slowly, “What do you mean by that?”

“Just… I don’t know, I just wanted to go back to sleep, I guess. You know, not have to deal with feeling like shit; maybe wake up when I felt better.”

“Oh,”  Dell said, letting out a sigh of relief. “Okay, I was thinking you meant something else there, for a moment.” He let out an awkward laugh.

“Huh, what do you-” Bandit began, before it hit him. “Oh! Oh God , no; I’m not suicidal or anything, I promise. Sorry, probably should have phrased that better.” In hindsight, ‘wanting it all to be over’ was not something he’d take lightly if he was in Engie’s shoes.

“No no, it’s alright,” Dell smiled politely, “You know how I can be; just a big ol’ worrywort sometimes.”

Bandit mirrored the smile, “Hey, I understand, and believe me, you’re not the first one to worry about me like that―well, about either of them, that is. I suppose it’s sort of a given, you know; with all the scars and stuff.”

“Right, but you’ve been clean for… oh, how long now?”

“About six years for both of them,” Bandit supplied. “Though Scout’s been clean for about a month longer.” 

“So assuming you were… you know, would probably be a stretch, is what I’m saying,” Engie gave him a nervous smile, then dropped it and sighed, “Sorry, just don’t like thinking about that sort of thing, you know how it is.”

“Nobody does,” Bandit smiled sympathetically. “And like I said, you’re not the first one to express concern about that, and you’re probably not gonna be the last. So long as you’re not wrapping me up in bubble wrap, I'm okay.”

Dell nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Alright, sounds good to me. I promise I won’t wrap you in bubble wrap. ”

Bandit laughed, and slapped him lightly on the arm, “Hey! Twisting words is my job, not yours!”

Alain glared at the door, before stalking away quietly. As much as he hated to admit it, Bandit had a… shockingly solid alibi. God, could it really be that Bandit actually is who he says he is? 

It seemed likely, though there was still the matter of Medic refusing to answer his questions. There were still some loose threads he needed to consider before he gave Bandit a pass. 

He needed to go back to his notes and check for anything else suspicious that he forgot. Opening the door to his room, he narrowly avoided stepping into the ows upon rows of cups lining his floor.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?!?” he screeched, vision going red.

Who did this?! He wanted to pin this on Bandit, but Alain knew for a fact that he had been following him all day, and not once had he gone near the BLU’s wing of the base. That left one conclusion; he had employed the help of his friends, and Spy knew just who the culprit was.

RED Medic jumped as the sound of the medbay doors slamming open filled his ears.

“Wha-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish that thought before Alain grabbed him by the collar and growled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“W-what?”

“Do you think this is funny?” His grip tightened on the doctor’s shirt. “Do you think this is a game ?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about! Could you at least explain before throwing hasty accusations my way?” Medic retorted.

“You’re working with Bandit, aren’t you? Why are you covering for him?”

Medic looked affronted, “Because he’s my friend . Is this about before? Because my answer is still the same. That is confidential information, and I am not at liberty to discuss it with you.”

Alain’s glare deepened, “Cut the bullshit, doctor. He’s not your patient, he’s an accomplice in your plan to kill us all. That ‘prank’ was just to distract me, wasn’t it? It would take me a long time to clean up, leaving you with plenty of time to carry out the deed.”

“Uhh…” the doctor was dumbfounded. “No. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I wasn’t even aware you had been pranked.”

“Then if it wasn’t you, who did ?”

“I don’t know,” Medic shrugged. “Have you managed to piss off anyone recently?” It certainly wouldn’t be too out of character for him.

The RED team in particular had some distaste for the BLU Spy left over from the gravel wars. His desire to collect information and find out others secrets went far beyond any contracts or assignments he was given in the past, much to everyone’s chagrin. 

“Yes, but they couldn’t possibly have done it. I made sure of it.” 

The doctor raised a brow, “How’s that?”

“‘I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you.’” Alain quoted, with a growl.

He rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, you were invading their privacy and they got angry at you for it, right?”

Was it that obvious? Alain quickly covered up his embarrassment, “It does not matter how he feels about it. A stranger is in our base, and I intend to make sure he’s not a threat. What’s so wrong with that?”

Medic frowned, and pried Spy’s fingers from his collar. Adjusting his tie, he said, “Listen, I understand your concern, but perhaps we can solve this with a little open, honest conversation.”

“I highly doubt he will be so honest.”

The doctor let out an irritated sigh, “Alain, please . I am trying to help here. Stalking him will only escalate the problem; I’m sure you can see that for yourself. What I am offering is a chance to ask him your burning questions, and a chance for him to explain himself. I’ll be there to mediate, and make sure things don’t get too out of hand.”

Hmm maybe that could work. A good old-fashioned interrogation sounded pretty good, and he could pick apart any feeble arguments that Bandit comes up with. Additionally, should Bandit attack, he would have Medic on his side. Though, he would still bring a couple weapons, just in case the doctor turns on him. You can never be too careful.

“I suppose you’re right, doctor. Perhaps talking will clear things up…. Alright, I accept your offer. I have some things I need to attend to first, but I will meet you and Bandit in the meeting room shortly.”

Whatever it takes, Alain will get answers. That’s a promise.

Chapter Text

Bandit sat down in the meeting room, eyes still puffy from crying. He knew from the moment he was invited to this whole thing that this is going to suck. Hard .

Medic’s look of shock and sympathy when he came in didn’t help matters, even if that wasn’t the doctor’s intention. 

Regardless, he was thankful he had a little time to prepare and wheel the TV they used to play the VHS tapes they kept their security footage on. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t upgraded to something more modern yet, but he supposed it gets the job done just fine. 

The big, boxy TV gave him a sense of nostalgia anyway, at least on the Scout side of his brain. Plenty of times teachers would roll out something similar so the class could watch movies. 

For some strange reason, they would almost always play Mary Poppins when they weren’t playing something educational. Not that he complained, it was a good movie and the songs were nice.

Idly, he wondered whether it was on Netflix. Maybe he could watch it once he was done with this. That would be nice. However, either because he spaced out, or because Alain was really raring to go, the door opened, marking the beginning of this meeting. 

Ugh, this is going to be like pulling teeth, isn’t it?

Alain took his seat, plopping down an expensive-looking leather briefcase, the kind you’d imagine an old-fashioned businessman would carry around. Or maybe some kind of mafia person. 

Yeah, that sounded more like it.

Alain cleared his throat. “Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Like what?” 

“I think you know exactly what I want.”

Bandit sighed, “Listen, I gave you my defense. And for the record, I’m not sorry about the cups. You earned that.”

“So it was you,” he glared. “How did you do it?”

“That’s seriously the thing you’re gonna focus on? Really?”

“Answer the question.”

The fusion rolled his eyes, “I had help, obviously. You know, I wonder if the reason you’re asking me about this of all things is because your story is so weak. If I really was some sort of intruder, I could have used my disguise kit to sneak in as only one of them. It would have taken a lot less effort too.”

Medic nodded, “He does have a point there. Sneaking in as a fusion would immediately draw unwanted attention to him, and it did. Bandit and fusion have been the talk of the base lately, and I know a good spy wouldn’t want that.”

Of course, they’d been over this already, but Alain wasn’t one to give up that easily. Quickly, he entered the combination to his briefcase, and opened it with a click. Then he pulled out a piece of paper that neither Bandit nor Medic could read from their side of the table. Much to the former’s annoyance.

Then, Alain cleared his throat, and began, “I thought over what you said earlier, and I realized that though you do have access to a disguise kit now, you very likely could have stolen it after you managed to infiltrate the base.”

“Oh my God ,” Bandit groaned. “Seriously?! Do you just sit there in the corner, huffing glue all day? Just admit you’re wrong and save yourself the embarrassment.”

“Ah, attacking me instead of defending yourself, I see.”

That littleー!

“WHAT WOULD BE THE FUCKING POINT?!” Bandit exploded, “You won’t believe me anyway! The only reason you came here was to fucking interrogate me and find some tiny shred of proof that you didn’t waste your time harassing me!”

Medic gripped his shoulder, gently but firmly keeping Bandit from rising from his chair and beating this asshole to a pulp. “Alright, alright. You made your point.”

Bandit took in a shaky breath. “Just think about it; this whole thing hitches on me making a plan so over-the-top that people have no choice but to believe me. I’m tired of having to explain that to you.” 

He rested his head against the table, and let out a long sigh. Yep, this was going about as well as he expected. Knowing Spy, he’s gonna nitpick every little detail of his story. Who cares if it's driven Bandit to tears twice already? No , he must protect the base, even if it means hurting someone who’s already stressed out by this whole forced fusion thing.

Alain hesitated, before quickly straightening his posture, “Fine then, if that’s how you feel, then why did you even agree to this?”

“Because I’m tired, Alain! I want my damn privacy back! I don’t know… maybe I thought I could convince you. But no. You came in here with the intention of crucifying me, not hearing my side of the story. Well I’m sick of it. So, if you won’t listen to me , here’s another piece of evidence for the pile.”

Bandit pushed himself off the table, to his feet, and carried the all-important tape to the TV, then shoving it into the VCR and pressing play. He then plopped himself back in his chair, crossing his arms.

Lo and behold, it showed the moments just before the incident that left Bandit stuck in existence. When he first watched the tape, it had been pretty weird to see the whole thing unfold from third person, but now he felt absolutely nothing as the magic ball hit the both of them.

“Say one word about doctored footage, and I slit your throat,” he threatened, voice low.

Spy only frowned, eyes never leaving the screen. 

What’s the matter pal? Your whole story crumbling before your very eyes? Aw, what a shame.

Once everyone went inside, Bandit paused the tape, and waited for Alain’s response. Clearly he expected Bandit to explain himself, but he had already made it pretty clear that explaining wasn’t worth the effort.

“Um,” Alain said, finally cracking. “I would like to review the tape myself.”

Bandit slid the remote to his side of the table, then proceeded to watch Spy rewind the tape, over and over. Reviewing five minutes, then ten minutes, then twenty minutes before the incident. 

“Alain, I think that’s enough. He has a pretty solid case here,” Medic said.

“Bu-but I’m not finished!”

“Shut up.” Bandit snatched the briefcase from Spy, “Let’s let the doctor decide if your ‘evidence’ is legitimate.”

Tentatively, Medic sifted through the papers. Some of them seemed to be notes about Bandit’s behaviors and mannerisms, while others were theories as to who he was, and why he was there.

Underneath it all, were small, square photographs. They looked to be from a polaroid camera, or something like that. What struck him so odd was how Bandit’s progression from being relatively okay and running like he usually does, to laying around, just staring off into space with a vacant expression. 

The last few pictures made his blood boil.

 They were clearly taken after Bandit had just finished crying. They were paperclipped to a note that said ‘He’s a good actor, but a few fake tears will not sway me that easily.’

To the untrained eye, Medic might have appeared calm. However, Bandit and Alain’s eyes were far from untrained. 

“Give me your watch,” Medic said, firmly. “Now.”

“It’s not what you-”

“Oh it isn’t, is it?” The doctor got up, and Alain scrambled to his feet. “Then tell me, what exactly drove you to photograph my friend in such a state?”

“I just wanted to protect everyone. He could have been a spy sent to murder us all! I had to make sure it was them!”

Medic stopped in his tracks, then turned to Bandit. “Lieb, did he make you cry?”

Bandit blushed, then nodded, “Twice.”

“I see...” he turned back to Spy, who had backed himself into a wall by this point. “Give me your watch. Don’t make me say it a second time.”

Gingerly, Alain undid the clasp, then handed over his cloak. Medic stashed it in one of his labcoat’s inner pockets.

“And your disguise kit.”

For a split second, he wanted to protest, but then thought better of it. So, he reluctantly gave him that too, and watched it disappear into that same pocket. 

“You can have these back for missions only, and until we find a way to unfuse them, you will have someone with you at all times to make sure you stay away from him. Do I make myself clear?”

Alain nodded, face pale. 

“Gut.” Medic pulled out his comm, and without breaking eye contact, he announced, “Could I please have someone watch Alain for me? He keeps stalking Bandit, so I need someone to keep an eye on him.”

“Sure thing, partner,” Dell’s voice came crackling through the speakers. 

“Thank you. We are in the meeting room right now.”

“Gotcha. Be there in a minute.”

It didn’t take long for Dell to arrive and drag Alain out of the room. Before he left, he shot Bandit a sympathetic look, then shut the door, giving the doctor and the fusion some privacy.

Bandit let out a long sigh, rubbing his face like he had a migraine. “He better fuckin’ stay away,” he mumbled, slightly under his breath.

Medic sat down and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah…. Yeah I would.” He looked Medic in the eyes, “I wanted to talk to you for awhile now, but I was worried Alain would listen in. No, scratch that—I knew he would listen in. I know I should’ve talked to you before I started spiraling. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“There’s no need to apologize, mein Freund. You were concerned for your privacy; that’s perfectly understandable.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve spoken up about it sooner.”

“Probably,” Medic shrugged, “But oh well, it’s over now. I’m not upset with you for waiting this long.”

Bandit looked down at the table, “Honestly, I don’t know why I waited. I could’ve told anyone that they were stalking me, and put a stop to it then and there. Insead, I just sat around, pissed off and trying to ignore it.”

“Knowing when to ask for help can be hard sometimes. A lot of people would rather handle things on their own, because it’s generally more convenient.”

“It is,” he agreed. “I thought that maybe if I showed him how unsuspicious I was, he’d give up and move on. What I didn’t account for was how stubborn he would be. Fucking asshole even had the nerve to say I was faking when I broke down from all the bullshit he subjected me to.”

Medic grumbled something in German. Bandit could have translated it, but he found that with languages his counterparts didn’t share, he had to actively focus on translating it to English. It didn’t take two braincells to guess it was probably something about Alain, anyway.

“That definitely crossed quite a few lines,” Medic admonished, in English. “He should be ashamed of himself.”

“He should, but I really don’t want an apology unless he means it. A half-assed one would only piss me off.”

“Oh don’t worry. Even if he doesn’t feel guilty about it, we’ll make sure he regrets it.” The doctor had a weird glint in his eyes when he said that, which is never a good sign.

“Josef, are you gonna steal his kidneys?”

“I could! But everyone knows what he did now, and I’m sure the rest of the team will not take this lightly. Nothing to cause him bodily harm, just some good old-fashioned ostracization.”

Bandit let out a puff of laughter, “Works for me.”

“Excellent! Now, since we’re way overdue, would you like to have a session right now?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s what we’ve been doing already; but okay, might as well make it official.”

“Wunderbar!” Josef said, clapping his hands together. Bandit couldn’t help but let out a quick breath of laughter at that. “So, do you want to keep talking about Alain?”

“Uh yeah.” Bandit let out a sigh, and stared down at the table. “I’m pretty sure he’s seen my scars by now. I tried hiding them; you know, by only changing in the dark, but that probably wasn’t enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but the alternative doesn’t seem likely.”

Alain could have very well cloaked and followed him as soon as that meeting ended. He wished he could remember whether he changed or not before he figured out what Alain was doing. Knowing his luck, he probably did.

Medic gave him a sympathetic look, “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Bandit grunted. “He better not be a gossip. So long as he keeps it to himself, I’m fine.”

It’s not like he can just ask him if he knows. Not without telling him, anyway.

“Really? It’s alright to be upset, you know”

“I am upset, but other than him just not knowing; that’s the best case scenario.” Bandit looked at him. “If it’s that, then I can deal with it.”

Medic hummed, “What if I tell them that if they share their findings with anyone else, their punishment will be far worse?”

He shrugged, “I guess.”

That probably wouldn’t stop him, but he honestly was fresh out of ideas that would.  

“Besides,” Josef added, “He’s not going to be anywhere near you for a long while. Hopefully by then he’ll have a halfway decent apology ready.”

“If he’s even sorry .” The guy called Bandit breaking down an act, and he did it without even a hint of regret or remorse. That’s not something that can be excused with a simple apology. Alain’s gonna have to earn his forgiveness.

“Of course. And you are under no obligation to forgive him, even if he is sincere.”

“I know.”

This was far from his first rodeo. Plenty of people have wronged his components before, and he doubted this would be the last time either. Some of them he forgave, or at the very least stopped dwelling on what they did, but many he did not.

Whether Alain would be the former or the latter, well... that was still to be decided. 

It all depends on how he makes up for it. That is, If he even bothers. Alain is nothing if not stubborn, so Bandit wouldn’t put it past him to keep thinking he’s right until the sun engulfs the Earth.

Regardless, Bandit and his components are still gonna have to tolerate him for however much longer they spend working together. He knew all too well that Ren and him would be assigned to plenty more missions together. It’s their job.

Generally, people of the same classes would be paired up when possible, both to do the job more efficiently, and to jack up the prices. The spies have already spent quite a few missions together, doing stakeouts, murdering their targets; you know, normal spy stuff.

Maybe if he did Miss Pauling a couple favors, he could get out of working with him longer. Being a CEO in everything but name is hard work, so he’s sure she will appreciate the extra help.

It’s been awhile since either of his counterparts have seen her in person. You would think being an unofficial CEO would give her more time off—and it did, but not by much. Not with Saxton breaking planes and laws left and right.

Mann Co’s legal team must be swimming in paperwork. Bandit hopes they’re paid well. They really deserve it, what with all the bullshit they have to deal with on a daily basis.

“Speaking of scars,” Medic began, “How has everyone been reacting so far?”

“Huh? What are youーOh, right.” 

He had completely forgotten that just a few days before this whole mess, Spy finally got around to telling the rest of the RED team about his scars. Before then, the only ones who knew were Medic and Scout respectively.

“It’s been going about the same as when they found out about Jeremy’s.” He itched the back of his head. “Honestly, I completely forgot, but now that you bring it up, yeah, they’ve been asking questions about it kind of a lot.”

“What kinds of questions?”

“Nothing bad , like, I’d say something that sounds concerning without one-hundred percent thinking through the implications, like the other day I said something like ‘I just want this to be over’ when I mean I wanted the fusion thing to be over. Engie was worried I meant I was suicidal.” Then, as a hasty afterthought, he added, “Which I’m not, by the way.”

“Ja, ja, of course. Still, are the questions bothering you at all?”

Bandit shook his head, “Not really. It’s not often enough to be too big of an issue. They just need time to get used to it, like with Scout. Besides, them adjusting is the least of my concerns.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” Medic said, nodding. “But if you ever need them to back off, I’d be happy to talk to them for you.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll be fine, as far as that goes. Now that Al is taken care of, my main concern is unfuzing.”

“Has it been difficult lately?”

Bandit sucked in a breath through his teeth. “‘Difficult’ would be one word for it. Another would be uncomfortable, stressful, and just straight up bad.”

Josef raised a brow, “That bad?”

“Yeah.” he ran his fingers across his lap, rocking himself back and forth in his chair. “I- I mean Scout and Spy had a fight, kind of? Anyway, I’m pretty sure they almost unfused, but they couldn’t, so I just had a panic attack and passed out instead.”

The doctor sat there, agape for a moment, before exclaiming, “That’s horrible! Did you get hurt?”

“No, I just spilled some Bonk and scared the shit out of Sniper. He was sitting across from me when it happened; apparently I started talking out loud towards the end of it.”

“What was the argument about?”

“Um…” God, he hopes this doesn’t trigger another panic attack. “Well, Scout kinda called himself annoying, and Spy said he wasn’t, but then lots of memories of people calling Jeremy annoying or implying it started flooding in, and Spy got mad at those people for doing that to me- I mean him.”

“Oh.” Medic looked thoughtful for a moment. “Bandit, do you think you’re annoying?”

“Uh.” Bandit paused, “Are you asking what I think of myself, or what Scout thinks of himself?”

“Mm, both.”

“Okay um.” He sat up in his chair. “Well Scout’s driven a lot of people away for that reason, so it’s kinda hard to believe you’re not annoying when so many people think so. As for me uhh…. Uhhhhh….. Doc, you’re melting my brain.”

“It’s alright, take your time.”

Bandit reached up to run a hand through his hair, only to realize the mask was in the way. Without thinking about it too much, he just pulled it off. Medic’s brows shot up, but he didn’t say anything.

“I don’t know. Self is hard because I’m definitely not a neutral party, not in this, anyway. I’m like….both of their thoughts and opinions combined into this big gray area; the problem is, there is no gray area with this. Maybe it would be easier for Scout to agree with Spy if he didn’t have all those people reject him, but the things they did stuck with him, so it’s gonna be pretty hard to get rid of that thought.”

“I know. Humans are creatures of habit, and once a habit is formed, it takes a lot of work to break it. The same applies to ways of thinking, if you get in the habit of criticizing yourself, then that habit will be hard to break down the road.”

“Right, so even if Spy thinks those people were wrong for doing those things, Jeremy doesn’t, and unless that changes, they’re not gonna come to an agreement.”

“Well then,” Medic said, scooting his chair a little closer. “Perhaps that’s something we can work on.”

Bandit let out a reluctant sigh, “I mean, we’re probably gonna have to. I don’t really see any way around this; other than trying to ignore it.” Which they both knew wasn’t a good way of overcoming anything . Especially not confidence issues. 

That put a little glimmer in the doctor’s eyes. “So, would you like to get into it now?”

“Yeah, I guess. Might as well.” No use in putting it off. Besides, venting might do him some good.

“Alright. Then why don’t we start with what prompted the argument in the first place?”

Oh boy, they were really doing this, weren’t they? “Scout, or I guess- I said something like, ‘The guys are probably happy that I’m a lot quieter as Bandit.’ Not the exact words, but close enough.”

“Have we ever given you that impression?”

“Um... kinda? It doesn’t happen that often, but sometimes after I mess with you guys, I worry you guys might stop being friends with me. I don’t mean like, end our friendship right there. More like that’s the first hint of you wanting me to go.”

Medic nodded, and pulled out a notebook from his inventory. It was the same one he usually used for therapy. “So basically you’re worried about it snowballing from there?”

“Pretty much, yeah. It’s not any of your faults, though. Nine times out of ten it’s just my brain overreacting to the tiniest most insignificant thing; nothing new there .”

His teachers could definitely attest to that, what with all the meltdowns he’s had over lost pencils and difficult math problems. It got so bad that sending him outside to cry became a daily thing.

“Has that been a problem lately?”

“Uhh…” Bandit itched his face. “Kinda? Mostly when I’m depressed, but I used to a lot more when I was a little kid. I mean um, when Scout was a little kid. After he got meds for it though, it got better.”

“I see, and how do you feel the medications you’re taking now are helping?”

“Uhh….” Fuck. “I haven’t been taking them.”

“What.”

“The one I- I mean, Scout takes Spy- made Spy…..” Oh God, he can feel himself stretching out already. He took in a breath, and tried his best to block out the memory. Scout didn’t need to see that. He let out the breath and continued, “They made his symptoms a lot worse, let’s put it at that. I wasn’t sure who’s meds to take, so I just stopped.”

Medic stared at him blankly, “Oh my God, you’re in withdrawal.”

“Well, yeah. I mean nicotine addiction is no joke.”

“No- well yes, but that’s not what I meant.” The doctor rested a hand on Bandit’s shoulder, “I mean you’re probably in withdrawal from the antidepressants too. If the last time you took your medications was the day you fused, then by now the antidepressant Spy takes should be out of your system, assuming it doesn’t wear off faster in fusions.”

Bandit’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh wow, that…. Makes a lot of sense, actually. I swear, my symptoms have been shit today.”

“Right, so we really need to get you back on medication again. Because the fluoxetine is extended release, there’s typically less withdrawal symptoms than other antidepressants. The paroxetine, however, has a shorter half-life than the fluoxetine, so it’s likely the one giving you problems.”

He figured that was what the doc would say, so he nodded.

“I think it would be best if you took Spy’s paroxetine as usual, along with Scout’s guanfacine. Hopefully that will improve things for you, but please tell me if you experience any troubling side-effects.”

“Don’t worry, I will. And uh.. thanks, doctor; for everything.”

Josef smiled, “Of course, it is my job after all. You’re going through a difficult time right now, and it’s my responsibility as your therapist and friend to help guide you.”

“Well,” Bandit returned the smile. “Either way, I appreciate it.”

He felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Though he wasn’t quite back to normal yet, it was certainly a significant improvement. Sometimes you don’t really realize how much something’s weighing you down until it’s gone. Now he could actually breathe a bit. Hopefully Alain wouldn’t spoil that for him, but only time will tell.

For now, he could relax a bit.

Chapter Text

Alain has never been more humiliated in their life . The RED Engineer may not be glaring at them, but that disapproving frown speaks volumes as it is. To make matters worse, everyone knew exactly what they did, and they were undoubtedly judging them as well. 

“Son, none of this would’ve happened if you’d just minded your own business.”

“I was just trying to make sure he wasn’t an intruder. But you don’t care, do you? He could have shut down respawn and killed us all, and you were just content to accept his story at face value,” they snapped.

Dell pressed his lips into a line. “But we didn’t. We made sure it was them, and you should’ve trusted that we did. I ain’t mad at you for being cautious, I’m mad because you crossed a line. You saw he was miserable, and then you had the audacity to call it an act .”

“Well-” Okay, yeah, that was a pretty good point, “I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t . Pity and guilt are powerful tools when it comes to manipulation.” It was a tactic they had used plenty of times.

“Maybe so, but the fact of the matter is you hurt Bandit. He didn’t do anything wrong; The least you can do is feel sorry about it.”

He was getting real tired of hearing this snake trying to slither themself out of responsibility. Alain had no business snooping as much as they did, nor did they have any right to make Bandit cry. The poor guy was under enough stress, he didn’t need some suspicious bastard butting into his life on top of that.

For a moment, Alain was silent. It was long enough that Engie was about to question whether they were going to answer, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Alain spoke up. 

“Yes, I know that now. It would be foolish of me to deny the evidence any further, wouldn’t it?”

“Then why’d it take you so long to come around?” Engie asked, quirking a brow. If he was being completely honest here, that just sounded like something they’d say to get out of this lecture.

“I don’t know, it’s difficult to say. I just thought fusion was a half-baked alibi not worth trying to confirm, and that Scout and the other Spy were tied up in somebody’s basement somewhere. For all I knew, it was a race against the clock, and if I didn't prove he was an intruder in time, they would be killed.”

Engie sighed, then nodded. “Alright, I see where you’re coming from. Still, you need to give him some space to calm down, and then give him a serious apology. Regardless of your intentions, you still hurt him.”

“Yes, I know.” They felt a twinge of shame in their chest. “He certainly has a right to be mad at me.”

All those times Bandit cried were real, not some impostor pulling out the waterworks to shift the blame onto Alain. How could they have not figured it out? The magic, the shared mannerisms, and his team’s backup all pointed towards Bandit being innocent.

Yet, the idea that the wizard fucked up and fuzed them was just too ridiculous to even entertain the notion that it might be true. As if magical bullshit isn’t something they regularly put up with.

For a moment, Dell tried to read their expression. This just seemed like too abrupt of a change of heart to him. 

“Son, you better not be saying this just to get me off your case. I intend to hold you to this, and if you ain’t genuine, then your apology means absolutely jack shit. Do you understand?”

Spy nodded, averting their eyes. “I do. And for the record, I’m sorry for invading your privacy in the process as well.”

Dell wasn’t really sure what to say to that. “Well….alright then.” Truth be told, he’s still mad at them. Forgiveness isn’t something he’s ready to give out, even if the thing they’re apologizing for is on his behalf, and not Bandit’s.

Though he’s not one to hold a grudge, he ain’t exactly the type to forget what wrongs people did. That would be a bit naive of him, especially to make a spy of all things an exception to this general rule of thumb. That’s just inviting trouble.

The person before him seemed to deflate, just for a split second. Then the mask of indifference covered it up again. Alain probably likes to think they’re unreadable, and maybe to most people they are, but his dad taught him how to notice those little split-second reactions on people’s faces. Having a former merc as a dad did have its perks.

“In any case,” Spy continued, “I’m assuming it will be a long time until I’ll be allowed in the same room as him, correct?”

“Damn right. What he needs now more than anything is space from you.”

They grimaced, “Yes, you have made that very clear.”

Bouncing back from this is definitely going to be a challenge, that much is obvious. Jeremy is relatively forgiving, or at the very least not one to hold much of a grudge. Renard, on the other hand…. Well, they really couldn’t be sure there. All of this isn’t ever addressing how Bandit will feel about this when he’s had some time to collect himself. If Alain had to guess, they’d probably be more angry on each other’s behalf, rather than themselves. 

God knows how protective those two are over each other. Merde, they really screwed themself over, didn’t they? 

If they’re lucky, maybe both teams don’t hate them. Though, with their status as a ‘dime-a-dozen backstabbing scumbag’ they really don’t like their chances. Maybe their own team’s Medic would be sympathetic, after all, he went through a similar thing about two years prior. 

Engie stared at them. Something in his chest just didn’t feel right. “You know, you were real stubborn about this not too long ago.”

“And you don’t trust my word?”

“No, not by a long shot.”

“I see…” Alain tried not to let that affect them. It’s not like Dell isn’t confirming something they already know. “Well, I’m not sure how you expect me to prove that I am genuine.”

“I don’t know either, but you gotta admit this sudden change in attitude is a bit suspicious.”

Alain looked at him. “Believe it or not, I do care for my coworkers. I understand old grudges die hard, and I am hardly anyone’s favorite; not even on my own team, but I try. I did not do this because I saw an excuse to torment your friend, I did what I thought was right, and as it turned out, it caused more harm than good. If that answer doesn’t satisfy you, then I don’t know what will.”

For a long moment, both of them were silent. It was pretty clear that neither of them had any more to say on the matter. Not without repeating their points over and over, anyway. And what good would that do?

“Well…” Engie said. “I guess all there is left is to watch the dust settle.”

You would think having Alain off his back would be a relief, and to an extent, it was, but right now, all Bandit feels is tired . He had just woken up from a depression nap, and is now trying to will his eyes open, and not give into the temptation of sleeping another two hours.

God damn it, he told Medic he wasn’t gonna do this, and now look at him. Laying in bed like a lying sack of shit.

No, stop that. C’mon, that’s just gonna make getting up harder.

Ugh, getting up . One step at a time please . 

All this struggling over basic shit is really getting on his nerves. He must look like an absolute trainwreck from the outside, especially to Alain, who got front row seats to a good chunk of the show. Asshole.

Could this have come at a worse time? Jesus Christ, Spy only decided to tell his team about the scars because he had been a pretty decent place mentally. Well thanks to the wizard and the BLU Spy, people are bound to be all shades of concerned for him. Fuck, he hopes he doesn’t have a relapse. That would send the both of them back to square one. 

The thought alone injected ice into his veins. Jesus Christ, he hopes it never comes to that. 

He took a deep breath in. 

It won’t. He won’t let that happen.

All he needs is to just calm down a little; not think of any spiral-triggering thoughts. Maybe think of something good. Okay uh… good things, good things… Oh! He can finally stop worrying about Alain! Yeah, that’s something. 

He may have seen Bandit at several terrible moments but uh…. Fuck. But nothing . He saw what he saw, and there’s no going back from that.

Maybe thinking about him was a bad idea. 

Still, he couldn’t really think of anything to top that. His breakfast that morning was good, but that’s all the good things he could think of. That left him with two options; keep laying here and feel like shit, or go find something better to do.

The doc would probably want him to do the latter. Though actually getting himself to actually get up was still a challenge. Time to pull out the big guns then. 

He is not getting up, he is just taking off the covers. Okay done. Now, he is not getting up, he’s just sitting. So far so good. Finally, he is not getting up, he’s just standing on the floor.

Well would you look at that. Might as well go find something to do, now that he’s out of bed. Internally, he thanked the doctor for showing him that little trick. 

Alright, next task; finding something to do. He could go and watch Netflix or something, but watching things mindlessly all by himself probably isn’t a good idea right now. He should do something productive, like ask if they found any leads on Merasmus. 

It’s been a long-ass time since he’s asked for an update anyway, so with that in mind, off he went. 

It didn’t take too long to find them, thankfully, and they seemed to be in the midst of discussing the wizard’s whereabouts too.

“Hello guys, anything new?”

Demo grimaced, “Not really, mate. We checked the last place he was living in, but some other bloke moved in and hadn’t heard of the lad. We’re trying to figure out where else he could be hiding, but so far we’ve got exactly jack shite.”

Bandit frowned, “Is there anything I can do to help? One of my jobs is tracking down people, after all.”

“I dunno, we tried looking through his old castle for clues, but we didn’t find anything.”

“The raccoons have eaten all the evidence,” Soldier said. “And the police have sold off all of Merasmus’ crap from his last house.” 

Demo gave him an apologetic look, “Basically, we’re not coming up with anything we can use. He’s a slippery snake, I’ll give him that.”

Damn it, of course they didn’t have anything. That was just his luck. “Have you tried checking his workplace? Maybe someone has information about him there.”

“Negatory,” Soldier said, “He sells his magical items at the flea market, and does favors for the mafia. Neither of them will know where he is.”

“Oh….” 

“Ah, don’t worry, mate,” Demo said, patting him on the arm, “Actually, the flea market thing might be a good lead! There’s only so many of those in Teufort, so we may just be able to steak out a few of them and find him.”

Bandit perked up. “Could I help? Finding people is sort of my specialty, you know.”

“I know, lad. To be honest, we could probably use your expertise here. Do you want to come with us to the steakout? I know it’s gonna be just a lot of waiting around, bored out of our bloody minds, but you’re welcomed to tag along if you’d like.”

“I really would,” Bandit nodded eagerly. “Staying here all day isn’t doing me any favors. Perhaps a charge of scenery could help.” Or at the very least, it would make him feel just a little less helpless about this whole ordeal.

He nodded, “I bet you’re tired of seeing Alain’s old mug around, aye?”

“Well-- I mean the situation has already been resolved. More than anything, I just want to get my mind off it and onto something more productive. Besides, I probably should have offered my services from the get-go.”

“Probably,” Soldier agreed. “We’re not very good at this.”

Demo chuckled, “And we probably should have asked sooner. Either way, we’re glad you’re here to help our useless arses out.”

Bandit pulled out his phone, “I’ll try searching up some local flea markets, though with how small and backwater this town is, I’m not sure all of them will have websites.”

After an hour of searching, he found his prediction to be correct. There’s really only one flea market in Teufort, or at least, only one with a website . It was pretty lackluster, at least compared to more professionally made ones, but not difficult to navigate. 

They had the option to register a table online if they so wished. Along with a list of events being held that month. None of it seemed relevant to their search, though. 

Still, it at least gave them a starting point, and a time when it opens for the day. Bright and early tomorrow morning, they’d have their stakeout, and if they’re lucky, find that wizard.

Chapter Text

I'm gonna be honest here, this fic is pretty old and I'm not satisfied with the writing anymore or the direction this scene is going. I've learned so much more about writing since I started, and so I'm probably gonna rewrite this fic from the beginning before I start adding new chapters.

I don't want to leave this unfinished and collecting dust forever. Hopefully I'll have more time to do creative things over winter break, and working on a rewrite will bring me more motivation to continue this story.

Please let me know if you're still interested <3