Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They were pretty sure they knew what awaited them when they got to Gray Mann's base. Or, Spy was sure, anyway. Mann was after the same Australium they were, and they'd be interrogated for what little they knew. And he wasn’t going to get that information out of them easily.

Spy’s tongue nudged one of his fake teeth. The time would come for that eventually.

His suspicions were confirmed when Demo, still distraught from the loss of Sniper, was dragged out by a couple of the enemy mercs, who snickered over the ways they could "make him talk."

That left him, Miss Pauling, Soldier, Zhanna, and Pyro, all of them chained up in a tiny room, waiting out their fate.

Well, until that thing entered.

It was the other team's pyro. Their Pyro perked up with an interested hum when it saw the other, only to jump—as much as it could with its feet chained to the floor—when the enemy pyro removed its face.

Spy had, admittedly, been caught off-guard, but rolled his eyes immediately after. This was not like their Pyro. This one was a human—a woman, her face scarred with old burns and one eye missing, her hair pepper gray with half her scalp scarred over. The fact that she was human had startled him more than any disfigurement could have.

Of course, he had to remind himself that his team was the exception, as always. They'd become so accustomed to the incredibly strange nature of their comrade that it felt eerie to actually see a human behind a similar mask.

Pyro must have felt the same, with the way it tilted its head with a hum of consternation.

The woman stared at it in turn. "Hm. This one seems promising."

Miss Pauling's head shot up, but Spy nudged her and subtly shook his head.

Unfortunately, Soldier was not on their wavelength. "That one? HAH! If you need a building burned to the ground, maybe! But Pyro doesn't talk!"

One of the woman's eyebrows raised in interest. "Really."

Spy shut his eyes, imagining himself flipping open his butterfly knife and driving it through Soldier's throat.

"Nope! It's completely incomprehensible! It can’t tell you anything! The rest of us won’t, either—we will not yield under torture, especially not me. Though I'd love to see you try!"

"Soldier, no!" Zhanna cried. "I must be tortured first!"

But the enemy pyro did not respond to them—likely still staring at their Pyro. "It doesn't, eh?" she said, putting a heavy emphasis on the pronoun. "Good. I like a challenge."

Seconds later, several robots filed into the room, immediately heading for Pyro and unlocking its shackles from the floor. Pyro mumbled something at them.

"Wait, no!" Soldier cried. "Pick me, pick me! I'm a good challenge!"

But the robots paid them no mind as they escorted Pyro out, and Spy cracked an eye open to see it showed no signs of worrying about what was about to happen. The door slammed shut, and he let out a sigh, tipping his head back. "Soldier, you are going to get us all killed."

"We're gonna die anyway!" Soldier protested. "We can at least go down fighting!"

"We are not going to go down fighting, you imbecile. We are—" He stopped himself there, deciding he didn't particularly want to reflect on their fates with someone who wasn't going to care anyway.

"Poor Pyro," Miss Pauling murmured. "What are they going to do to it?"

Spy shrugged. "Better it than us." He lowered his voice. "With luck, they'll waste several hours trying to get information out of it before they realize Soldier, idiot that he is, was more-or-less telling the truth. That may buy us some time."

"You think we can still get out of this?" she whispered, hope edging into her voice.

"Not likely. We're probably delaying the inevitable." His tongue nudged one of his molars.

"We'll have to hope.” Miss Pauling sighed, staring at the door. "I guess Demo or Pyro could break out."

Spy barely resisted the urge to snort. "The drunkard? Not likely. Pyro? Who knows."

"I still can't imagine what they would do to it."

Spy tipped his head back to regard the ceiling for a moment. "Who can say? Waterboarding, perhaps?” A random guess, and he snorted at the absurdity of it. “Though I struggle to imagine what could break that creature."

"Neither could the Administrator. That's one of the reasons she recruited it." Miss Pauling shook her head. "If that's the case, maybe it'll find a way to break out. And break us out of here."

"Unless it decides to burn down the whole base with us inside. Regardless, resisting torture and breaking free are two different things. But we shall see."

Soldier groaned. "But when's it gonna be my turn to get tortured for information?"

"Will be our turn soon," Zhanna reassured him.

Spy heaved a sigh, and Miss Pauling shut her eyes.

They sat in uncomfortable silence (save for Soldier and Zhanna's chatter) for some time, Spy keeping an eye on the door while Miss Pauling stared at the floor, lost in her own thoughts.

The minutes ticked on. For how long, Spy was uncertain—he couldn't reach his watch to read it, and the feeling of dread in the air was not helping with their perception of time. Next to him, Miss Pauling occasionally muttered to herself, and every so often he could pick up phrases.

"...and we could go back to Australia, and..."

"...if Scout or Heavy are still out there..."

"...and Sniper could... wait, no..."

Sighing, he almost considered tuning her out, but it was a good distraction from his nicotine cravings, at least.

At some point, she raised her head. "Where is it?"

Spy raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"Pyro. They've been keeping it for a long time."

"Yes. Demo has been gone for some time, too."

"Yeah, but... they can get information out of him." She turned to face him again, and an unspoken question hung in the air.

Spy returned her gaze. "Miss Pauling, if you are under the impression that we are in the hands of anyone other than violent sadists, I do not know what to tell you."

Before she could react, the door burst open.

“I VOLUNTEER!” Soldier cried, straining against his manacles.

But instead of their captors, Pyro stumbled into the room.

Spy would have hoped that it had indeed broken loose and come to rescue them had it not been for the fact that its hands were shackled behind its back.

The robots escorted Pyro to the end of the bench, where they shackled its feet to the floor. Meanwhile, the enemy pyro stepped into the room.

"Finally!" Soldier exclaimed. "You've had your turn, Pyro. Now it's mine!"

"Our turn," Zhanna corrected.

With an unfriendly smile, the woman turned to face them. "If you insist."

While the robots got to work escorting the two least intelligent people out of the room, Spy and Miss Pauling looked over their recently-returned companion. "Pyro?" Miss Pauling whispered. "You okay, buddy?"

Pyro said nothing, sitting still on the bench and facing forward.

"...Well, it looks okay, anyway." Miss Pauling shrugged. "Guess the Administrator was right."

"Hm." Spy's eyes narrowed as he continued to look Pyro over. While it was true that it looked more-or-less uninjured—the suit was a little roughed up, but that was it—he couldn't be too sure that it was unharmed. The enemy wouldn't have just done nothing with it, and the way Pyro did not answer them, nor even respond to its surroundings, was not encouraging.

Nor was the fact that it was trembling.

But before he could analyze Pyro's behavior any further, the doors burst open again, and this time a barely-coherent Demo was practically dragged into the room.

In the whirlwind of events that followed, the torture that their fellow mercs had endured was nearly all but forgotten.

But it would not stay that way.