In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Twenty-Six: Fear

        It's quiet, faint music and people laughing come from the upper decks. Pyro breathes through his mask and his boots squeak as he walks behind me, Sniper trailing even farther behind. The air is humid and my skin is damp with sweat, baby hairs sticking to my forehead. Water rushing fills my ears but clears my thoughts as we approach the two brothers that stand at the farthest edge at the bow. I stop just a few yards before them and take the time to tie my hair back into a semi-tight bun, unsure of how this is going to play out. One of the brothers leans his back on the railing and the other sits on the edge of a lounging chair he pulled up for himself. Pyro stands next to me, holding his fire ax in both hands and Sniper unsheathes his own knife.

"It's called a kukri," he said while I stood in his room and waited for Pyro to join us. Scout refused to talk to me as he sat on his own bed, angrily reading a comic book. "It's a Nepali machete."

"Was thinking you weren't going to show," the one on the chair yawns as he stands up, picking up a metal pipe from beside him. "And you did bring friends. Nice. Would've been kinda lame if we just pummeled a tiny little woman down by herself."

"I'll have you know that I took on both a heavy and a soldier by myself before I also beat up on your sister," I quietly tell, trying to play myself up to gain a shred of confidence. "We're going to kill you, and then we're going to kill the Peytons."

"Hey, one step at a time," the unarmed one joins his brother. "Let's get this out of the way first."

"Before we quit piss-farting around," Sniper holds his arm in front of Pyro to keep him in place for a moment longer, "what class are you? Only a bogan doesn't let a bloke know about his adversary."

The one with the pipe laughs and checks his watch. "Spy."

"Crikey," Sniper whispers as they vanish. "Accomplice, o'er here!" I come near the two, and we all turn our backs to each other, Sniper having us move slowly around like a pinwheel. "Spies favor backstabbing since you don't see it coming, so we might as well eliminate that avenue."

"Doesn't mean that you're safe." One of them taunts, Pyro taking a downward swing where their voice came from. The slight break in our formation gives enough room for one of them to push Sniper away and separate us. He takes a swing with his knife, the unarmed brother becoming visible again and stumbling back, holding a long scratch on his chest.

"Come 'ere ya mongrel," he grins, advancing to him, I turn my attention to Pyro and try to keep an eye out for any disturbances, unsure if that'll do me any good. I'm pulled back by a pole around my neck, pushing against it with my hands to keep my airways open. Pyro follows, raising his ax and looking for an opportune time to swing. I look at the reflection coming off of the glass where his eyes are and try to telepathically communicate my next move. I'm yanked over to the railing, an elbow burrowing into my spine to press me against the metal barrier. I look down into the dark abyss, moonlight barely illuminating the side of the ship and the long drop should I fall over. I see Sniper out of the corner of my eye coming up, so I turn rapidly and deck him in the jaw which causes him to drop his pipe.

He vanishes and tackles me, pulling out a knife of his own and rushing it toward my neck. I cry out, Sniper's face and the deafening ringing of the fort alarms presented in front of me. Sniper whacks him over the head with the pipe he dropped, the spy out cold.

He hands me the pipe after Pyro helps me up, and we resume our pinwheel formation. My chest tightens as the Aussie turns and scans me for a split second. The air shifts, but I don't act upon it in the event I'm simply picking up on a lowly breeze. Pyro breathes gently and taps his fingers against the wooden handle of the ax. Sniper grumbles. "All spies are just phony scoundrels, backstabbing frauds."