Burning with a new-found determination, Vince runs out of the room and makes way for the second floor. As he approaches the door to his flat, he reaches his arm out for the knob when he flinches. He can't just rush right in, can he? Why is he even here?
“Vincent,” Ooshiro chimes in, carrying a bag. “I thought I would check up on Mundy-san, make sure he is feeling better. Let us go together.” He opens the door for Vince and struts in. “How are you doing, Mo... Oh.” He looks down and finds Mortimer and Alan, asleep in each other's arms. “I... I guess I'll just leave this here.” He mutters a soft apology as he sets down the bag and cautiously backs out of the room. “Astor-chan looks so peaceful, so happy when he's with him. As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think either of us have a chance.”
As if some primal instinct has awoken, his brows furrow as his eyes grow wild. “'Either of us'? You dare imply...?” The Scout grabs hold of Ooshiro's coat lapels and slams him against the wall. “Let's get this straight: Alan belongs to me and only me. You are not to touch him or talk to him. If I catch you even staring at him, I will hurt you so badly, even Respawn won't be able to fix you. You got that?” His throat tightening, Ooshiro nods, and is let go. But for a long while afterward, he finds himself still shaking.
The remainder of the workday, Ooshiro and Vincent keep their distance, to prevent a repeat of their earlier bout. In order to appease the Scout, he even offers to bunk with Mort, allowing him to sleep with Alan. In the end, Ellen drops by to tell them Alan will be staying in her office for the night. Vince, disgruntled, insists on sleeping by himself. No one has dared to confront him about it.
“Vincent is a rather frightening character,” the Asian says, a slight tremble in his voice. “To think, he was so friendly just the other day.”
“Yer tellin' me. He's been givin' me the stinkeye the whole day.” Settling into the top bunk, Mort plays around with his newest gift from Ooshiro, a stuffed koala with a blue bow tie. “It's like he hates me or somethin'. Sammy, do you hate me?”
“What? Of course not! If I did, would I have gone through the trouble of giving you anything? Well, even if I did—which I don't, by the way—I probably would have done it, anyway, as a polite gesture. After all, you are the only other person who knows about my secret.”
Mort, half-distracted, is playing airplane with his toy. “Oh? So who's the other bloke?”
“Astor-chan. To a certain extent. He has yet to connect the story I told him to me, but knowing how smart he is, he will figure it out sooner or later.” Beat. “Mort, I must be honest with you: you belong with Astor-chan. You've known him for much longer than I have, and it's clear he likes you back. I do not deserve someone as perfect as him.”
As Ooshiro makes his confession, the plush koala—in a fit of shock—crash-lands on the Sniper's face. “Whaddaya mean by that? Al's just a friend. There's nothing goin' on between us. If you like 'im so much, just tell 'im already.”
“No, I can't! Astor-chan is... And I'm... It will never work out.”
“Aw, nonsense! You two would make a cute couple. Yer smart an' sweet an' gentle an' caring, an' so is Al. You have that much in common already. I say give 'er a whirl!”
“Um, okay. But what about Vincent? I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but he likes Astor-chan, as well.”
Mortimer, embracing the stuffed bear, ponders this over for a few seconds before concluding, “I wouldn't worry too much about him. I mean, yeah, he does seem to care about him, but I don't really get the feeling he actually likes him for him. Ya know what I mean?”
“Um, not really.”
“You like Al, right? Like, really, really like 'im. You would give 'im the world if he wants it. 'Cause you like him for him. But Vinci, I don't get that same feeling. I don't think he's in love with Al. Hell, I don't think he even likes him as a friend. I think he's clinging onto Al 'cause he's got nothin' else to hold onto.”
“I think I understand now. But the question is, why him? What has attracted him to Astor-chan?”
Mort shrugs and flickers his droopy eyelids. “I'm sure he's got his reasons. We'll find out when we have to.” The next moment, he's fast asleep.
Sleep does not come as easily for Ooshiro. His dreams, set in pitch blackness, are plagued by voices, voices that sound similar to him, yet not like him at all. There are other voices, too—which sound vaguely familiar, if he can just remember where he last heard them. He is lost in a dreamlike state, yet he does not feel at all asleep. In fact, he feels as if he has been awake all this time, his body going through the motions without his conscious thought. What am I doing?, he wonders. What is he up to now?
Meanwhile, somewhere outside of the RED barracks, three men are standing around, as if waiting for something to happen. Two of them, Luca and Dante, exchange some meaningless old-man chatter while the youngest, Valdo, tunes them out, more interested in the approaching speck in the distance. The speck, dressed in white and blue, becomes less of a speck and more of a giant, towering over the Scout. “'Sup, li'l batty? You feelin' any better?” The giant, Hohojirozame, ruffles Valdo's reddish-blond hair—a habit that initially bothered him, but grew fond of over time, as he found the other's presence comforting.
“Mostly. My bones still need a-fixing.” He cocks his head, his neck letting out a loud crack as he does so. “Take notes: never, ever get crushed by a train. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.”
“Fledermaus's condition has been improving rapidly, thanks to zhe Lifeblood. Even vithout my Medigun, he has been getting better at a faster pace zhan I expected.” He brushes his finger against the Scout's arm, where a scar from the railroad incident is still healing. “But enough about him. How is Mr. Mundy? I'm sure he enjoyed our time together. Gott knows I did.”
“Yeah, I'm sure he did,” Hohojiro retorts with a sneer. “And I'm sure he enjoys having his own ally manipulated to turn on him. Ain't that right, Luca?”
“Whatever do you mean? The only ones I've subjected to any sort of brainwashing is Anonyme. Unless they have regained their senses and gone turncoat...!”
“I'm talking about vamp bro's twin, ya idjits! Vince has been actin' weird recently, and since earlier today, he's gone completely bonkers. Somethin' smells here, an' I'm diggin' to the bottom 'til I find out what it is.”
Luca raises a brow. “Vincent, you say?” Plucking a cigarette from his pocket, he flashes a crooked grin. “Signore Zame, would you like to hear a story?”
Back in the BLU base, Ellen is performing a series of tests to check up on Alan's health. After finishing up the X-rays, she sets aside her medical tools and picks up her clipboard and pen. “You're in pretty good shape, miss. A little low on blood pressure, but nothing to call the ER about. And you've managed to pack on a few pounds.”
Alan, stripped down to his underwear, examines himself, his fingers brushing the surface of his soft skin and grimacing at the hideous scar lined over his chest. “And my heart?”
“Oh, that? Beating like a drum. Don't worry, Alan: SPAI only hires the best of the best, doctors included.”
“You're just stroking your ego now, aren't you?”
She chuckles. “Maybe. But if the boot fits.”
“Ellen, why did SPAI choose me? Why choose some sickly kid with no home or family? There must have been a million other contenders more capable of espionage.”
“Alan, my dear, Luca chose you because he saw a great potential within you. Perhaps not quite the same sort of potential that they saw in me, but something equally worthy. And I think he was feeling a bit lonely. For all the women he seduced, not once did he ever think about settling down; I never expected him to bring up a child.”
“He's not the best man, but he's still my dad. That's why I need to prove myself even more.” He pinches the small bit of flab forming in his once-flat stomach, reminded of Mort's comment the other day. “Ellen, am I fat?”
She gives a curious look. “Have I told you not to worry? Whatever Luca or the other Spies think should never get in the way of you doing your best. Besides, they're totally wrong, and that is a scientific fact.” Ellen rustles the young blonde's hair and escorts him to the nearest medical bed. Shortly after he lays his head to rest, the phone starts ringing, pressuring her to rush over and pick it up. “Hello?”
The voice on the other end, a low, growling timbre with an accent hailing from the exotic Scotland, answers. “Oi. It's McCullen. Just calling to check up on the boys.”
“They're doing fine. I've just sent Alan to bed. You have some exceptionally talented rookies, Duncan.”
“Wish I could say the same. New Scout's kind of screwy in the head. Speaking of new kids, is that Ooshiro bloke getting along with everybody?”
“Sammy is a spectacular Medic. Now, if only Vincent would behave a little better. He's been acting awfully bitter, not to mention aggressive.”
“He does take after Mallory. I hope Morty's able t' deal with 'im.”
“He...” She twirls the phone cord as she comes up with a proper reply. “He has done exceedingly well on the battlefield. Granted, he's working a bit outside of his comfort zone, but he has shown amazing physical skill. And he's an absolute sweetheart!” The two of them laugh. “Back to Mallory, how is he doing? Have you spoken with him yet?”
“Not much, but I've met with his new cohorts. Listening to the grapevine, the REDs've been celebratin' since Val an' Dante left. Doc seems a bit wary 'bout the whole thing. Can't say I don't agree with 'im; this whole situation's givin' me weird vibes, like something bad's gonna happen.”
“So even when the head honcho's gone, the place is still a hellhole.” I oughta know, she muses. I've been there. “Well, I'm afraid it's getting late. Got the graveyard shift tonight. Good night, Duncan—”
“Hold on. Promise me you'll protect them. 'Specially Mort. Lad doesn't know the danger he's in.”
Ellen hesitates before saying, “I'll try, but I can't make any promises.” She hangs up before Duncan can speak further. It's too late for that, anyway.
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