Ah, h'lo! Long time no see, eh? Well I'm finally able to write more frequently, since I finally got my laptop! I'm working tirelessly on part 5 of my Christmas special (let it be known that only Jinny would finish a Christmas special in the summer), but here's a little thing for you while you wait~

Blood. That was all he could see and smell and taste. The rain hit his form like bullets and thundered against his head as it swam and made the world spin around him.

Spy lay sprawled on the muddy ground, half submerged in a puddle as the wounds in his body turned the murky water red.

They had left him there. Every one of them. He was pretty sure that Scout and a few others had seen him, too. None of them said a word or done anything to help.

He wondered if they even knew that respawn was turned off after battles.

Spy closed his eyes, feeling his headache grow. The coolness of the puddle helped a bit, but not by much. The gashes all over his body warmed the water quickly and took away any hope of comfortably bleeding out.

Could he really blame his teammates though? He was a backstabber for God's sake! Nobody cared if he was dead or alive, they'd probably be glad that he was out of their hair. Scout had gone so far as to make his dislike for the Frenchman extremely noticeable, calling him a backstabbing frog, a coward, a bastard on a daily basis. He said he wished Spy would die, that he would suffer and be truly alone. Well, Scout, he thought, you got your wish.

Stupid kid. He didn't know what happened. He had no idea. There was a reason Spy did these things. It wasn't like he was born that way. He used to have a family. A tender, loving family. He grew up in a beautiful city where the flowers and sun greeted you happily every morning.

Until the day it was all taken away.

The day he was informed of how sick, twisted, revolting, disgusting, and cruel the world actually was.

There was a reason he trusted no one anymore. A reason he wasn't kind or gentle towards anyone anymore.

By this point, Spy had lost profuse amounts of blood, and the puddle was now more concentrated in the red liquid than it was with water. The Frenchman felt himself slipping away, the sound of the beating rain on his skull now subsiding into a dull thump.

He was ready to drift away from this hell hole.

Before he could pass on, however, steady arms enveloped him, gathering him up tightly before hefting up his limp form. He didn't even have the strength to open his eyes, so he had no choice but to left himself be swept away from his oh-so comfortable spot in the mud. The person clutched him tighter, murmuring soft reassurances and soothing words as they carrying him. Spy let the honey-rich voice lull him to sleep, seeing as he didn't have any other choice.

He awoke after what seemed like seconds. Now he was warm, warm and comfortable. The owner of those arms had brought him somewhere inside, though he could still hear the pitter patter of rain against the window and a slight chill was still residing in his body, despite his apparent location in a bed. Spy groaned and shivered, wanting to pull the blankets over his head and go back to sleep.

Suddenly, a gentle, calloused hand rested itself on his forehead, most likely checking his temperature. He didn't bother to open his eyes, he was too tired. The hand left his forehead, and he immediately missed its comfort, but it then took hold of the blanket on him and lifted it up higher on him. Seconds later, what felt like a hot water bottle was inserted under the arch of his back, and the chill dulled substantially. He could almost hear the sweet beckoning of sleep calling him, and he intended to return to it as soon as possible.

The hand returned to his forehead, but this time, it lingered, sliding down to his cheek and cupping his face. The thumb lightly brushed his cheek through his mask.

"Stupid bloody spois…" was the last thing the Frenchman heard before drifting off.