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No. 6581
And torture Pyro, Spy would. But it had to be gone about carefully, creatively, else his message be lost in a midst of meaningless, haphazard means to cause agony.
Torture via pain was terribly trite and overdone, Spy thought, as well as unoriginal. It lost its purpose very quickly and even quicker on a battlefield, where pain and death was something the boys were exposed to every day. To simply hurt the Pyro then send him off to respawn was boring. Pain, being the physical thing that it is, is almost instantly forgotten after the sensation ceases, making it unfitting for Spy’s intentions.
Spy wanted Pyro to remember this, remember how he put him in his place. He had to afflict him mentally, give him something he could carry away with him, something that would fester in the back of his mind in the dead of night. Such a Spy way of thinking.
So, it had to be gone about imaginatively, thus starting the torture with the tug of a zipper.
Spy guided the small device down its metal road, slowly, flicking his eyes back up to Pyro’s to find that they were not locked with his, but staring intensely as the action caused his suit to part down his chest. Spy stops and Pyro looks up,
“Are you some sort of faggot?”
“Remember my knife, cheri.” Spy clicks his tongue and presses the cold metal of the blade to Pyro’s soft neck. Spy ignores the question completely and takes hold of Pyro’s suit, parting the flaps as if he were opening a book, exposing Pyro’s upper torso,
“It is ironic, no? You think that you’d dehumanize someone by stripping zem down, making zem naked, like an animal, less human…but for you, it makes you more human, revealing you from underneath zis heavy disguise.”
“Get offa me!” Pyro struggles, but despite the lankiness of the Spy atop him, he cannot buck him off, not with his hands roped behind his back, restricting him from sitting up. Spy pretends not to hear and goes on,
“Zis fire resistant cloth must make you so hot. Aren’t you glad to have it off?”
More vulgar Italian on Pyro’s part. He’s struggling wildly and Spy finds it to be terribly fun trying to keep him pinned down, like riding a mechanical bull. Pyro kicks, Spy lets out a laugh that surprises even himself finding that he’s enjoying this so much more than he’d thought he would. The gas mask stares idly at the two struggle on the floor from a distance.
“But there’s not much that I can do to make you feel any more naked than you do now, now that you are unable to hide behind that stupid mask of yours.”
“I’m not like you, I don’t do it to hide, I do it for protection!”
“Ah, but hiding iz a form of protection,” Spy grins, removing his knife from Pyro’s neck to slice away at the tough fabric that he is unable to slide off, due to his victim’s hands being roped. It doesn’t cut easily and is dreadfully precise work between Pyro’s relentless squirming, “We hide to protect ourselves…from what…we don’t want people to see…or know. We do it so zey view us as a faceless, accurate killer. We do it so we are respected for our successes, not judged by our human mistakes.”
“Stop comparing yourself to me! You think that you have everyone all figured out, but people aren’t-a so simple that you can just make assumptions!” Pyro snarls, the words tripping over his accent.
Spy loves this because it’s all so new. He’s hated a mask for so long so, now, to see that he is able to conjure such emotion in an actual human is thousands of time more satisfying than having mumbles screamed at him through a filter. It is an actual person that he’s been despising, and to see him become more unclothed, more human, made it so much easier to pin his hatred to him.
“Oh, so you ‘would’ like to be viewed az human?”
“I would like you to shove that damned knife up your ass!”
Pyro undulates his body trying to stop the knife from cutting away his suit, which Spy has tugged down to his waist, but it backfires and he is lightly nicked by the blade, right in the valley of his hipbone.
“You want to be cut? Because if you do, by all means, keep jerking around.”
“What are you proving?” Pyro yelps, thrusting his head backwards so his jaw points toward the ceiling. He breathes rapidly through clenched teeth for a few seconds, before relaxing his arch so that he can glare daggers at the masked man before him, “How is this-a revenge?”
And wouldn’t it be just like a Spy to keep him in the dark. But enjoying the reaction he has gotten, the Frenchman decides to reward him with a little hint,
“Since it seems I cannot dehumanize you I am going to…az you say… demasculinize you.”
“’the hell?”
Pyro understands but frantically tries to convince himself that Spy wouldn’t actually do it.
Then Spy pulls his flame-suit off completely , grins, and Pyro realizes that, yes, he would.
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