Work Text:
“What is zhe point of me being here?”
Spy exclaimed, crossing his arms and huffing. He had been dragged to this building by Sniper, where the former president, Donald Trump was doing a rally outside. “We are not even American! Why didn’t you just go alone?!”
“Hush, spook. They’re gonna hear ya yapping from all the way up ‘ere.” The Aussie muttered, loading his rifle. “Plus, you gotta look out for his men. Those buggers are gonna ruin my aim.”
He sipped from his small metallic flask, and put it beside him as he got into position.
“You did not bring your piss jars? Zhis is not zhe Mick I know. Impressionnant.” The Frenchman snickered, still managing to find the time and place to jab at the bushman.
“I said hush.” The other man growled. “If I miss, I'm blaming it on ya.” Sniper held onto the trigger, waiting for the right moment to strike. “And don’t leave the guards a bloody mess when ya stab them.”
“I am not planning to Monsieur, do not worry.” Spy muttered. He grabbed his disguise kit and took out a cigarette, lighting it up before putting it between his lips, inhaling the sweet smoke. “Zhis new suit costs more zhan your kidneys. I do not want a dumb guard's blood soiling it.”
Sniper just chuckled at the statement. He steadied his breathing, and looked through the scope. The Aussie stared at the president, blocking out the sound of the people, the sound of Spy's footsteps pacing around the room, the sound of whatever Trump was talking about.
Steady, steady. Sniper thought to himself. When Trump stood in place for long enough, the bushman pulled the trigger, praying to any deity that it hit the man.
Unfortunately for him, his prayers were unheard.
BANG!
The sound of the crowd screaming was the first thing to register in the Aussie's mind, but once he looked a little closer at where the president stood, he felt a pit in his stomach.
“Shit.”
“What? Did you hit him, bushman?”
“I missed.”
Spy's face contorted into disbelief, his eyes wide and his jaw on the floor. Sniper on the other hand turned to face the now angry man, getting ready to hear the torrent of rage filled French that would leave Spy's mouth.
“YOU WHAT?!” he shouted. The Frenchman threw his cigarette onto the tiled floor, stomping on it. He stormed over to the other man, grabbing his collar and bringing him closer to his own masked face. “YOU HAD ONE JOB, BON DIEU!” The Frenchman sputtered, his anger reaching new levels. “AND YOU ARE GOING TO BLAME ME BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPID AIM?!”
“Well, no but-“ Sniper tried to distance himself from Spy by wedging his hand between them, but the man somehow was getting closer. “It was a joke about blaming you, damn snake! Now would ya calm down, you're makin' a ruckus! We’re gonna get caught and thrown behind bars because ya decided to scream bloody murder!” he urged, trying to calm the angered man.
Spy took a deep breath, before letting him go and groaning. “What are we going to tell zhe Administrator? We cannot let her know that you failed at your job.”
“I'll worry ‘bout that later.” Sniper muttered, quickly packing his things. “Lets get outta ‘ere first. Ya got it easy, ya can go invisible whenever ya want.”
“Ah, well, if you get caught, it is not my problem.” Spy snorted, pulling out his disguise kit again and going invisible, a trail of smoke appearing before dissipating into the air.
The Aussie sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes at the flex. “Lucky bastard.” He whispered to himself, before running out of the room and crossing his fingers that Soldier wasn’t going to kill him the moment he stepped foot onto the base.