Chapter Text
"Maggots! Tomorrow the war shall start against the BLU Team!"
It was dinner time. Engie and Pyro had made dinner for all the mercenaries who were gathered around the table. They had just arrived about a week ago and started to get their habits. They had received their weapons and had completed the basic training consisting of mastering how to handle them.
"As the Administrator said, failure will not be tolerated!"
"It's gun' tae be fine, Soldier!"
Said Demo, raising his bottle of "scrumpeh" to take a swig of it.
"Affirmative! It will be fine for we will crush the enemy!"
Soldier banged his fist on the table.
"Mmh!"
Pyro got startled.
"Calm down, Soldier, we will all do our very best and our job."
Said Engie, as he put a hand on Soldier's shoulder.
"Ja, it will only be a matter of coordination. We all know how to handle our equipment so it is a question of knowing how to communicate."
"Yeah, like the Doc' said, it's all about the communimi-comminu-uh talkin'!"
Spy rolled his eyes up. Engie nodded.
"Yeah, very well said, Sawbones!"
The door opened and the mercenaries turned their heads. Sniper entered.
"Good evening to you, Sniper."
Said Spy sarcastically.
"Mh."
The Australian growled. He headed to the fridge, got some bread, mustard and sausages. The mercenaries were used to seeing him enter come dinner time, make something for himself and leave.
"Also pardners, the battle is at 9.00am sharp tomorrow. So be on time!"
"Wait what?! Oh man that's way too early!"
Sniper opened the fridge again, put back the sliced bread and mustard. He spun on his heels and exited the kitchen.
"You are weak, Scout! Back in my day, wars were fought before we could even see the sun rise in the horizon! And for breakfast we all had but our victory to savour!"
The rest of the dinner went smoothly. Or at least as smoothly as it could. Soon, the mercenaries moved to their rooms apart from Engie who went back to his garage, followed by Pyro. Spy headed to his smoking room. He unlocked the door and entered.
"Ah, finally."
He locked the door behind him and went to pour himself a glass of wine. Red, from his hometown of Bordeaux, was his favourite. He went to his armchair and sat there, in front of the fireplace. It was the winter and it was a harsh one there. He was used to the cold, coming from France, but not to that extent! He was used to cold rain showers, very thin ones, but nothing like continuous sub-zero temperatures during the day. He took his "Dapper Cadaver" magazine and flipped through the pages, his eyes following the lines of printed characters, gliding on the snow white pages, skiing on the black letters. He enjoyed the dark beverage in front of the fire. The crackling noise of the wood being devoured by the flames, their reflection on the glass he was holding, he found it all quite cosy despite the harshness of the freezing temperatures outside.
He kept on reading his magazine. Articles about men's fashion for that winter season, ideas of recipes for the upcoming Christmas…
Spy grimaced. Christmas was in more than a month! Did anyone need Christmas related things that early?! He sighed. He hated Christmas. A season of fake niceness from everyone. He pulled back his nose and stuck his tongue out in disgust.
Bleh.
He took a quick sip of wine to wash the taste of it all away. The dark red liquid spread on his tongue and enveloped it like a bittersweet hug. Slightly acidic at first and on the tip of the tongue but the flavour of the oak it was kept in, and the rich earth the grapes had all grown in diffused to his mouth, palate and even his nose. He could smell the vineyards and closing his eyes, he could see them. Rows of neatly ordered light green vines with shiny grapes hanging generously off each couple branches. The sun of the South-West of France slowly roasting them to slowly turn them from light green to dark violet. The frequent rain to water them and bring them the hydration they need to grow juicy. And the smell of the earth after the rain. He smiled and sighed. He missed his home. Maybe.
He opened his eyes again and looked back at his magazine. More recipes, desserts, cakes… His smile vanished. Spy was not a sweet person, in any meaning of the word. He did not like sweet things and was never described as a sweet person to interact with. Of course he could fake it and countless times, he did.
His eyes went to the fireplace.
How many times did he have to pretend he was the sweet sort of a man? Nearly as many as the ladies he seduced, which in fairness was a fairly big number. Only a few of them was he really charmed by. Well, only one, really.
He shook his head and looked down at his magazine. He flipped the page.
Dating tips, your winter will be far from lonely!
He smirked.
Ha! As if some petty journalist could give him any advice on that! Spy rolled his eyes up. The amount of nonsensical, sensational and idiotic content newspapers had to come up with to keep their readers was beyond him. And it was certainly going downhill! He remembered when he started his career, there was much less things of that nature! Men did not need "tips" on how to get a lady, they needed "guts"! But the new generation now was all soft and sensitive…!
His eyes went back to the magazine and the title of that article.
Dating tips, your winter will be far from lonely!
He sighed and looked at his nearly empty glass. His winter was going to be lonely. Infinitely more lonely than the previous one and no doubt, infinitely less so than the next.
"Meow."
He looked down and smiled. His cat, Perle, was mewling at him. He tapped his lap and she jumped on it.
"Bonsoir, Perle."
[Good evening Pearl.]
The cat turned and laid comfortably there, facing her owner. Her big blue eyes looking up at him. Perle was the reason he sometimes did not go insane. The thought of her would bring him back to reason when his mind would shoot him to insanity. He put the magazine aside and removed his black velvet gloves. He pulled his mask off and threw them all on the other armchair, the one that was always empty.
"Comment vas-tu ma chère amie, hm?"
[How are you my dear friend, hm?]
Spy was not a sweet person to men and women. But animals were something else. There were times when he wished that Perle could speak. He loved her company. Everything was so simple with her.
He put his hand on her back and stroked her. She was one of those cats with long and fluffy hair and she was all snow white. He loved the feeling of losing his fingers on her back. And she loved it too, as she started purring.
He carded his hand through his hair quickly.
"Demain, j'aurai du travail, j'en ai peur. Mais je te ramènerai quelque chose le soir, d'accord?"
[Tomorrow, I will have work to do I'm afraid. But I will try and bring something for you in the evening, ok?]
Perle meowed and Spy smiled. He scratched the top of her head lightly. He looked up at the clock. Time to sleep.
-- Author's notes --
After the success of Solitude, here is another Sniper/Spy story, quite different from it :)
This is the beginning and as always I don't know where I'm going with this but eh, that's how I start all my fics and they end up being 50 chapters long! ^^
As always, if you like it, let me know in the comments, it makes a huge difference to me ^^
Also, note that my friend Deathtothecrows is editing my work to help my English better and for the story to flow better. Go check their scribbles, they're great! :
Merci et à bientôt,