Disguised as the Heavy, Spy moved silently through the BLU base, his shapeshifting ability making the infiltration effortless.

The mission was routine—grab intel and leave. But then he heard a rustle, followed by a soft sniffle behind a stack of crates.

Investigating, he found a child curled up inside, eyes wide with fear. Not part of the plan. He hesitated, then sighed and, against better judgment, picked the kid up and brought them back to RED.

Months passed.

Now the kid ran through the base like they belonged, laughter echoing as they wore one of Spy’s old masks, too big and slightly tilted. Most of the team had grown fond of them. Spy stayed distant.

He watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, cigarette in his mouth, eyes narrowed.

“Pourquoi est-ce que je supporte cette petite chose…” he muttered, flicking the cigarette down and stomping it out before following after you.