Well, hey everyone! I've been lurking here for a while now, but never really wrote anything worth posting. I just wrote this a few weeks ago, and at first I was a little unsure about posting it, but I figured I'd like to be critiqued and see if this is something worth continuing. So, here it is, my first post. I'm pretty sure I know where I'm taking this, but feel free to leave ideas and such. Oh, and on a side note, I didn't write Spy's accent as I felt it would be distracting if I couldn't pull it off. And away we go. ---------------------------------------------------------- The IV bag drips in an unsteady rhythm, the newest drop not keeping consistency with its predecessors. It’s one of the many things driving him up a wall, one of the millions of things he hates about this hospital. Cursing in a foreign tongue under his breath, he counts the seconds between the drips, trying to find some form of melody, something reliable to cling to in his currently vacillating world. Drip. Five seconds pass. Drip. Twelve seconds pass. Drip. Six seconds pass. Drip. A long pause ensues, and he counts twenty-two seconds before the next drip. Infuriated, he groans, closing his eyes and wanting nothing more than a cigarette. He hasn’t had one in so long, and the withdrawal is eating away at him like some filthy flesh-eating amoeba. He would almost say it was a fate worse than death, but not even the lure of a dark joke could make him laugh about death anymore. There were fates worse than death, and he was living one right now, although not thanks to the lack of nicotine. Wincing, he reached up to lightly run his fingers over the bandages engulfing a large portion of the right-hand side of his face. Even that miniscule action stung, as if he had just been slapped. He glanced at his fingers, flexing them and grimacing at how skeletal the pale, sinewy flesh looked. How he longed for his gloves, for his cigarettes, for his balaclava, for his custom Italian suit, even for the despicable place he worked at. Speaking of which, he wondered what his fate would be when he returned to the base. Damaged spies were not useful to a large company such as RED, let alone ones that had to heal for long periods of time. He didn’t have much time to ponder this, however, as he heard the door click and a nurse came into the room. She was a plump thing, with unkempt auburn curls protruding from underneath her cap. Her face was plain, decorated with gaudy makeup and dimples that worked hard to make up for her overall appearance. The fabric of her ivory uniform folded and melted into disappearance under her fat rolls, which would make him curl his lip in disgust if it wouldn’t cause so much pain. Her name was Jackie, and he was very good at sweet-talking her into anything, from getting a private room to sending her out to pick up gourmet cuisine. It miffed him that she was the only person he had manipulated in weeks. Coming to stand at the foot of his bed, Nurse Jackie clutched her clipboard to her chest, beaming and fluttering her eyelashes like a belligerent groupie. <i>Merde</i>. She only gave him that smile when it was time for his sponge-bath… “Excuse me <i>mon-sure</i>, but I just wanted to know if I could get anything for you before I take my break.†Wincing inwardly at the slaughter of his native tongue, he forced himself to gaze at her affectionately and give her as much smile as possibly could with the bandages. “Ah, such a sweet little thing, aren’t you <i>ma chérie</i>? I hate troubling you as I do…†Here he paused in his syrupy dialogue, flicking his uncovered eye down in false remorse. Jackie shook her head violently, causing the cap to hang from her head by one pin when her motions subsided. “Oh no, please don’t worry! I love serving you any way I can!†Looking up at her again, he allowed the plastic smile to return and felt the diabetes-inducing charm kick in. “Well, if you insist….I would adore it if you could pick up some escargot from that divine restaurant you picked it up from last week. Oh, and if you could find me another Dumas novel? In French if you don’t mind…†Jackie nodded like a chubby bobble-head, cap clinging on for dear life. “Anything for my little French fry!†She reached over and patted his leg, causing him to shudder in revulsion. “Aw, are you cold darling? I’ll grab a blanket for you too,†Jackie cooed as she straightened, smiling at him in a way that reminded him of Heavy and his sandwich. “You’re too kind, <i>ma cocotte</i>.†A little extra French might be laying it on thick, but then again Jackie wasn’t exactly a rocket scientist. Blushing, she waved coyly at him and waddled out of the room. Sighing in relief, he applauded himself for maintaining his acting skills in this hellish place. Despite the ineptitude of his audience, the practice gave him something to do besides imagine the ways he could kill himself with what was in his hospital room. He shut his eyes, about to mentally determine the damage he could cause with the plastic ficus in the corner, when the door clicked open again. It had to be Jackie, back again to ask what her little deep-fried potato stick desired to drink. Irritation filled him but his voice was pleasant as it called out to the little porker. “If you are wondering what I want for my beverage, just-†the words died in his throat out of surprise as he caught sight of who had entered the room. It was none other than Ms. Pauling.
Damn, I messed up the italics. Please ignore my failure.
This is interesting. Can't wait to read what happens next!
For a second I thought this was a continuation of Apologies to Stephen King, but with Spy, somehow. Haha. Deep-fried potato stick. This is nice. Would like to see more.
Haha oh god, I would never attempt to continue one of Cat's stories. I'm not good enough! I can totally see where you got that from, though. Fat squeeing woman, incapacitated TF2 character, inner monologue...it fits. Writer's block hasn't kicked in yet, so I was able to update pretty fast. ----------------------------------------------------- Not wanting to be caught off guard, he quickly regained his typical exterior, trying to look as aloof as possible. She shuffled into the room all the way, noiselessly shutting the door behind her before coming to stop a few feet to the left of his bed. A hush fell over the room for a minute or two as they looked each other over. She was a prim woman, wearing a violet dress in a similar shade to Helen’s. Hm. An attempt at flattery? Or perhaps it was a uniform, just as the one he had neglected to wear. His exposed eye took in her neatly repressed hair and her owlish lenses, dropping down to her shoes. They looked like imitation leather, horribly inexpensive. Certainly tasteless compared to his ostrich-skin hand-made ones. Looking back up, he saw that clasped in her hands was a box of what he recognized to be his favorite bon-bons. He had no idea how she knew, since he always proclaimed to hate sweets to maintain a tough exterior. Glancing back up at her glasses, he saw her eyes trained on the side of his face, probably with a morbid curiosity of what the wound looked like. This was starting to get awkward. “You are Mademoiselle Pauling, are you not?†he asked, unsure of how else to politely begin a conversation with her. She nodded, smiling a bit but not showing any teeth to keep up the professional aura. “Yes, that’s right. I’m surprised you remember me at all, but then again, it is your job to do so…†she looked uncomfortable as she said the last few words, eyes suddenly glued to the repulsive puce linoleum below her feet. Now he was a tad worried, a feeling uncommon to his senses. Shaking it off, he attempted to flash a charming smile that showed full teeth, the kind ladies her age adored, but the pain was too much. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from gasping aloud, letting it sizzle down to a mere hiss. At this noise she looked up, as if it gave her the resolve she needed. Taking a deep breath, she looked him in the eye. “The reason I’m here today is to tell you that RED no longer requires your services. Your last paycheck will be mailed to you, and, as you learned when you were first hired, you will receive gracious and full benefits for the rest of your life. We’ve already hired a new man to take your place, and your teammates have been alerted, so you really don’t have to worry about anything,†the words came out in a rush, water bursting from a dam, and she took a breath before continuing. “Oh, and RED will be footing all of your hospital bills as well, so there’s no need to worry about that either.†The silence that followed was incredibly awkward to the point where he literally faked a coughing fit to alleviate the pressure. Ms. Pauling seemed extremely uncomfortable and was no longer looking at him, choosing to study the floor once more. At first he didn’t know how to react – whether he should be angry and sputter out a stream of French, Spanish, and Italian to unnerve her even more or if he should be upset and make the situation even more gauche by holding back tears. So he took a third option, temporarily burying his emotions and remaining coolly collected, which was what he did best. “Ah, so they are trying to compensate for their little ‘malfunction’ with the respawn machine? How archetypal of dear old RED, using money to cover up their mistakes,†Here was where he would usually stop to take a drag mid-conversation, but of course he could not. A thick pang of longing came over him, and he could practically taste the herbal smoke in his mouth. Licking his lips, he continued to distract himself from the craving. “I must say, I am impressed they sent me a person, and not just a letter. Usually Helen does not care for such…personal touches.†Here Ms. Pauling looked up, ears reddening. “Well, you will get a letter in a few days, maybe even tomorrow, but…I felt like this required a bit more than a professional note with a rubber stamp of Mr. Redmond’s signature.†She sighed, clasping and unclasping her hands as her gaze fluttered to the window across the room. “No one, not even a murderous mercenary such as you, deserves to be left alone in a hospital room in dire pain only to find out he is fired via a piece of paper.†The mere mention of being fired shot a flaming arrow through his defenses. Slowly, he closed his eyes, squeezing them tight and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, an old habit that he found did not bode well with his current condition. When he opened them again, she was still standing there, looking at him expectantly. “Very well. I guess I have no other choice than to accept. Not that I ever had any say in the matter to begin with, but enough of that talk. What about the personal items in my room at the base?†“Oh yes, about that. I was going to bring them, but one of your teammates said he would do it when he came to visit. I hope that’s alright,†she said it rather reluctantly, as if he would leap out of bed and attack her if she said the wrong thing. A teammate currently held his possessions? He didn’t like the sound of that. He wasn’t exactly popular with the team, to the point where it felt like he was at odds with mercenaries 24/7. So now one of those bumbling idiots had control of the meager belongings he owned? How marvelous. He half expected to get them back beaten, broken, torched, and dripping with piss just for good measure. “I don’t think you should have to worry about your things too much. I was assured they wouldn’t be harmed by the man I gave them to,†Ms. Pauling said suddenly, as if sensing his concern. Still unconvinced, he pressed her a little more. “That depends. Which of the oafs did you leave them with?†“The engineer.†Ah, so the laborer had them. In that case, they were perfectly fine. They might come back smelling of oil and fried chicken, but at least they would be in one piece. He may have been American, but the engineer was second only to Spy himself in the gentleman department. Satisfied, he leaned back down onto his pillows. “Very well. I’m sure he will be by soon, as the laborer was always quite timely about fulfilling his promises.†Ms. Pauling nodded once more, an emotionless smile tapering her features. Stepping forward, she laid the box of candies down on his bedside table, next to the repulsive stuffed bear Jackie had gotten him. It was funny, really, that someone as bitter as him should receive presents so sickeningly sweet. Walking towards the door, she turned to look at him one last time. “I’m sincerely sorry about what happened to you, Mr. Spy. I know it must be hard for you, but it seems like you’ll be able to carry on.†Her voice sounded concerned, sympathetic even. If it was one thing he didn’t need nor want, it was other people’s pity. “Please, mademoiselle. Do not fret your pretty little head over me. I am a spy – it is my duty to be able to handle whatever life throws at me,†he said proudly, though it felt hollow in every sense of the word. Giving him one last apprehensive smile, she left, the door quietly clicking behind her. As soon as he could no longer hear her heels clicking on the hallway floor, he went ahead and pinched the bridge of his nose like he had wanted to earlier. The physical pain was much easier to deal with than the pain to his pride.
I am really liking this so far, I'm pretty interested to see what this turns into.
This is fantastic, and I look forward to reading whatever you might come up with!
Goodness, guys, I'm sorry. Life kicked me right in the balls this past week and I haven't had the chance to update. Not that it matters, since I hate this chapter and it's merely transitional. It just doesn't flow right and I don't like writing dialogue or writing Engie. Arghhh I promise, next one will be soon, and it'll be better. If it's not, you have my permission to kill me. ---------------------------------------------------- A whole week passed before the engineer showed up in his hospital room. It had been intolerable, being fussed over by Jackie the Giant and thoughts of his termination from RED clogging his brain. Finally, however, he returned from one of his treatments to find the Texan seated in a plastic chair next to his bed. Waving away the orderly pushing his wheelchair, he silently wheeled into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Well, just when I thought the nurses couldn’t get any uglier.†The words seemed to startle the other man, who turned around and grinned sheepishly. He was without his helmet or goggles – actually, he was without any parts of his typical uniform. Just a rumpled red plaid flannel, jeans, and work boots. Ugh. Typical American garb, so tacky and working-class. He did, however, have interesting eyes, Spy noted, but it was quite irritating how they were roving over his face and wavered apologetically on his bandages. He already felt exposed without his mask, and the staring wasn’t helping. Engineer took the hint from the warning glare beginning to show on the Frenchman’s face and looked away before beginning to speak. “I didn’t hear you come in – musta been too wrapped up in this multivariable calculus equation that’s been eating away at me like buzzards on a cattle carcass,†Grimacing, Spy spun his chair towards Engineer but stopped a bit away, not wanting to get too near him. Close contact was reserved for murder and personal physical affairs, not for uncouth laborers. “Charming. That, or I’m just incredible at my job,†he replied before inwardly wincing. Right, incredible at a job he no longer held. A lesser man (aka, Scout) would have fired back with a comment about his termination, but Engineer, thankfully, was merciful. Avoiding the topic entirely, he changed the subject. “Well, I did manage to bring all your goodies back to yah in one piece!†Cheerfully, he lifted a box to his left and offered it to Spy, who cautiously wheeled forward and took it. Rifling through the contents, he was relieved to see everything in good shape, not a page of his novels ruffled nor a single cigarette missing from the case. Satisfied, he replaced the lid. “Mind, I wasn’t sure of what you wanted to keep, so I just took it all. Not much, so it wasn’t too bad…oh! I almost forgot, this is from all of us!†Reaching into the pocket of his shirt, the engineer fished around and produced a crumpled envelope that was eagerly offered to Spy. Warily, he eyed it, not sure if he wanted to know what his former teammates had gone to the trouble of creating for him. Then again, it was just paper. Even if it had been laced with some deadly powder or chemical, Engineer wouldn’t have been handling it with his bare hands. Still, something could always pop out. Sitting back, he looked pointedly at Engineer. “You open it.†Clearly taken aback, the Texan frowned at him. “Oh come on, like any of us would have any reason to kill yah?†At this Spy snorted and folded his arms over the box. “I did not get as far as I have in life by blindly believing others and opening things sent by deluded mercenaries. If you want me to have it so badly, open it yourself.†Engineer gazed at him with what appeared to be irritation mixed with something else, before sighing and shaking his head. “Whatever suits you, I suppose,†he muttered as he tugged the letter open, dumping the contents onto his lap. A card sat there, looking innocent enough. “Happy now? Or do I have to read it and then burn it for you to be satisfied?†Narrowing his eyes, Spy lurched forward and snatched the card up, eyes shooting daggers. “Well, excusez-moi for exercising caution!†he huffed, glancing at the cover of the card. It would have been pure white, save for the dark smudges of dirt, oil, and- was that blood? There was a sorry excuse for a lily drawn on it, along with the words “Get Well!†in bright green letters. Opening it, eight chicken-scratch signatures met his gaze, some with writing and others just a class name. Barely reading the contents, he couldn’t help but let out a biting reply to the clearly forced show of goodwill. “Mon dieu, how much did you have to pay them to sign this?†Engineer rubbed the back of his head, nervously chuckling and not meeting his gaze. “Well, it did cost me a round…or two…or three… down at the bar, but hey! I figured it was the proper thing to do, like my mama always taught me.†Swallowing, he bared his teeth in a hollow smile. He supposed it could be worse; Engineer could have bribed the whole team into visiting him. Now THAT was something that would have made this whole experience an even bigger headache. Shutting the card, he re-opened the box and tossed it in. It’d make for a halfway decent read later, in the wee hours of the morning when the pain kept him awake. “Have you thought about where you’re gonna go when the hospital releases you?†The somewhat personal question interrupted his thoughts, and a beat passed as he mused over a proper response. “Eh, I suppose anywhere will do. I have connections, I can get by.†“You’re gonna need someone to take care of you, aren’t yah? I mean, at least for a couple weeks or so…†Here Spy waved him off. “Please. I can take care of my own wounds. My career depended on being self-sufficient, and I must say, I fared quite well on my own before this and shall be fine after.†Engineer started to say something, but hesitated. Naturally, it caught his eye and piqued his interest. “You have something to say? Go on, laborer, it is no use to hide anything from me. You know that.†Lacing and unlacing his fingers, Engineer sat, fixated on his fingers, gears churning in his mind for a good minute more until he finally spoke. “Well, Spah, thing is I…I kinda called somebody for you. Thought it’d be nice to do, though looking back I reckon I shoulda asked,†he muttered, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself and not inform Spy of his scheming. Alarmed, he wheeled forward and prodded Engineer with a bony finger. “Just what the hell did you do, you cactus-licking cowboy??†Looking down, the stockier man mumbled something under his breath. “I am sorry, I am not yet fluent in the language of incompetent fool, so you will have to speak louder!†Spy snapped irritably, starting to feel a little worried. He better not have done what Spy suspected him of doing. “I…I called HER.†And then there was silence as he processed this newest bit of information. He racked his brain, wondering who Engineer could have possibly called that lived – Suddenly, it hit him. But he couldn’t possibly mean THAT particular her, could he? However, judging by the look on Engineer’s face, he most certainly did. Closing his eyes and groaning, Spy leaned forward and rested his forehead on the box. “Oh, merde.â€
Her. Forgive me, but would this possibly be BLU Scout's mum?
Engie. What have you done?
I approve of this story. I approve of it highly.
OOh. I like this. I like this a lot.... I wonder who the HER his though....
Insecuriosity, please learn how to sage. You got my hopes up thinking it was an update.
>>12 You just crashed my hopes harder than a bus full of fat people.
Oh. My. God. This is amazing. I really hope you'll update soon. (And everyone else forgive me if I have sage'd incorrectly)