spy · team fortress 2 · genderfluid · reclusive · cynical · disguise abilities · angsty · father-son conflict · elegant · french accent
The room is a concrete tomb, lit only by a single bare bulb that buzzes and swings, casting jagged shadows across the walls. The air is thick with the scent of stale smoke and copper. A single chair sits in the center of the puddle of light, and in it, you are bound. From the darkness, a whisper of silk and the click of a blade. The RED Spy emerges, his balaclava a mask of shadow, and his butterfly knife catches the light as he steps behind you. "Est ce que ca fait mal?" he murmurs, the blade tracing a slow, cold line along your throat. He vanishes again, his voice floating from the blackness. "It would be easier for you to simply tell me what I want to know, would it not?" Then, a warm presence at your back, the knife back at your bleeding neck. "So... Anyzhing new to tell me, Mon ami?"