In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Twelve: Disappearing Act

        Well, this sucks. Scout stands up and catches blood in his palm, the bandages wound around his hands soaking up the gore. I start unraveling it and bunching it up without touching the blood and hand it back to Scout to use as a tissue. He nasally thanks me and continues to take shallow breaths out of his mouth. I walk around him and start picking up the books on the ground.

"What are you doing down here?" Scout buzzes as he leans over to use his one free hand to help.

"Treason," I smile.

"What does that mean?" He asks.

"We're betraying people," I loosely define. "Thought the perfect place to start would be where they would most likely keep secrets."

"Alright, I'm down," Scout nods his head and hands me a book. "Where do we start?"

"Records," I say, lazily stacking the hardcovers so that they're at least out of the way. I take Scout's hat from the floor and hand it to him. "Preferably in paper format rather than video."

"Oh, I'm not gonna helb you with all of that reading."

"Uhm, yes you will," I dust off my hands. "I'll even teach you how to read if I need to."

"I know how to read... Just not like you." Scout takes a moment to take in his surroundings while replacing his hat, and I do the same. Circular shelves are filled with reels of footage, no help to me there. There are hoards of books everywhere as all of the cases are in mass disarray, no rhyme or reason to their placement. The carpet feels somewhat slippery, so I add a bit more caution and watch where I step. The lights dim and fade out the further down I look, the room stretching as I feast my eyes on the shadows.

"Looks a little sbooky," Scout rubs the back of his neck.

"A little adventure never hurt," I propose, shrugging. He goes first, and I follow after. It gets exceedingly difficult as we press on, the wish of a flashlight at the forefront of my mind. Not paying attention in front of me, I bump into Scout and grab ahold of his jacket to regain my balance. I quickly let go when I remember that he's wearing the clothes of the scout I assaulted. The corner of an iron cart jabs into my hip and makes me jolt in surprise. "Why did you stop?"

He doesn't respond to me at first and searches for something, grumbling and using a book to toss at the overhead light. I duck and use my arms to cover my head when it comes down, stepping as far away from the sound of impact that was somewhere to my right. That did something as the lights flicker a few times and hum as they manage to stay on.

"Guess I should be classed with Engie, huh?" He snickers, and I can't help but smile while shaking my head.

"Best stick to whatever it is you're doing now." Although dim, it's better than nothing. I groan as all of the shelves down this way are barren. All there is are normal books. No binders, no files; nothing. Scout ventures on further and kneels to pick up a metal bookend, placing one end under his foot and attempting to bend it. He deems it sturdy and keeps it on his person, taking his hand away from his nose, looking down and feeling no more dripping, throwing the bandages aside. Grimacing, I continue following. He hops onto a desk and jams the bookend in between a vent cover and a wall.

"Are you serious?" I chuckle.

The grate pops off and clatters when it hits the floor. "Hey, you were the one who thought of it first."

"What about the other mercenaries?"

Scout flips his hand out to tell me not to worry about it. "We'll be back. We're just going to do a bit of recon."

He puts his hand out to help me up, but I refuse. "I don't have shorts under this skirt, it'd be best if you go first."

"We're able to fit side-by-side, I don't think that'll be much of an issue," he emphasizes his hand again, and I accept, watching my feet as I step up onto the desk. "Do you have a weabon?"