I'm Gonna Beat You Like A Rented Mule (18+)

Battle had gone well for Trish. She'd avoided being backstabbed a few times, rescued all her machines from sappers, except one, and BLU was leading the day. Everyone was where they were supposed to be, doing what they wered supposed to be doing, and with a quick glance at the watch face she'd tethered to her tool belt, she surmised that there was only six or seven minutes remaining in the day's battle. Unless something very strange and uexpected happened, on an absolutely ridiculous scale, the victory would belong to BLU and all the girls would enjoy a celebratory barbecue and bonfire that evening. It had been a long time since they'd had so sound a win that they'd had cause to celebrate.

She whistled a little to herself as she went about her final mindless tasks. Taking a look around to ensure there were no Spies lurking about, then turning to run to her dispenser. It was a brisk run to get to the machine, and once she got there she scooped up a couple of armfuls of scrap metal before hustling back to her sentry. She nearly dropped all her metal when she saw standing there, beside her baby, that dastardly RED Spy. She grit her teeth and tossed aside her pile of metal and drew her shotgun, pumping it and aiming it at the Spy. "You git yer ass away from my sentry, Spah. I'd bin havin' a good day, n' I won't have ya ruinin' it."

She must be dreaming. Today was utterly dreadful. Were her teammates always so incompetent? It was like she was the only one on the team pulling her weight. She had spent the entire day scurrying back and forth trying to run damage control, but it was no use. Not being one to accept defeat gracefully, she lurked around, looking for a sentry to abuse and in turn, make her feel a little better. She always enjoyed the look on that dopey Texan broad's face when her toys lay in ruin. Particulrly after she had been so quick to cath onto her attempts at knifing her. So frustrating. Her red stained lips twisted into a cruel smirk as she began the tedious task of sapping.

Of all the things to happen in the last few seconds, that damned texan drawl met her ears and she twisted to glare over to her. "Sorry to pop in unannounced. You should not leave your toys lying around." She cackled and twirled the sapper in her hands as she began to dash away from the rival woman. Swapping her sapper for her revolver, emblasoned with the figure of a beautiful woman.

The BLU Engineer bypassed the sentry mid-sap - the battle was nearly over anyways, there wasn't much reason for her to save it when BLU was certain to win at this point. Itstead she took off after the Spy. When the revolver came out though, she ducked back behind a large rock. She poked her head out after a moment, and just barely withdrew her head before a bullet pinged against the rock where her head had been second before. She heard light footsteps moving rapidly, probably running, and launched out from behind the rock, chasing the Spy, trailing by only ten feet or so.

With a fierce grin, the slender figured woman turned to fire maliciously at the Engineer. "I don' care if we lose. I am taking you down with me!" She cackled wickedly and ducked around a corner, quickly cloaking herself out of sight. "Try to catch me now, Fire 'ead!" Sniggles at her petty comment in regards to the other woman's hair. Makes a few lude symbols in her direction, knowing she cannot see them. The woman really hated losing. She never did it graciously either.

Trish turned the corner after the Spy and all she needed to see was the vague shimmer of the Spy's cloak to know that the woman was lost to her now. She sighed and around a bit. Once she saw what waited in the direction the Spy had taken off, she grinned and continued trucking along after her. She'd taken a turn down a passage that ended in a dead end, and when she reached it, Trish would be there, ready and waiting.

Safe in the knowledge that she was both nimble and cleverly disguised, she sprinted back toward her base through a familiar short cut. She logged within the alley and then paused...this....wasn't....merde. Looking around frantically she began to realise this was NOT the short cut, in fact it was far from it. This was a dead end. She watched as the bars of her watch dwindled and looked around hopelessly.

The redhead was sure to walk a wide berth down the passage to try and prevent the Spy from slipping past her. When she reached she end of the path she raised her shotgun again, eyeing the empty space. The slimy hussy would flicker into view there, any second now. "C'mon out now, Spah." She growled, eyes narrowed behind her goggles. "We kin make this quick."

With a flicker of her cloak, she was in sight. Her arms raised and her revolver in her hands, pointed at the ginger Woman. She remained straight-backed and stiff as a statue as she stared down the Engineer. "Come now, you did not sink I would give up so easily?" She cocked her head to side and twisted her red lips into a smirk. "Did you, labourer?"

"Kinda did," Trish said, and shrugged. "Woulda bin surprised if you had, though. Mighty surprised." Guns trained on eachother now, it was just a game of chicken, really. Trish began to take slow steps towards the French woman, her boots crunching against the coarse desert dirt under her with each step. "C'mon now, hun, battle's nearly over. Ain't worth th'fight."


[Fun fact, I nearly wrote 'boobs' instead of 'boots' up there. Her boobs definitely do crunch against the coarse desert dirt. Yep.]

Holding her ground, Renée glared down the barrel of her gun at the approaching enemy. "I don' care if it 'as no benefit to ze battle" she tilted her head down so her blazing eyes could be seen above the frames of her shades. "I will no' back down from a stand off."
A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "You, 'owever, can jus' lay your weapons down and walk away."

{That is an interesting visual...}

"M' not really the stand off kinda gal," Trish said, with a shake of her ginger head. She rolled her sleeves up a little. "But I can agree with droppin' all my weapons. But you drop yours too, and we'll settle this the old-fashioned way. A brawl."

Cringing, she pulled her revolver a little closer. She was fully aware that brawling had never been her strong suit. However, she was capable of throwing a few sharp punches here and there. She had studied the Engineer long enough to know her weak spots, if she was lucky she wouldn't get her jacket dirty. Very lucky... All she had to do was land a few good punches and be on her way. With a reluctant sigh she lay her revolver on the ground and stepped away from it. "You Americans are all ze same. You always want to 'andle sings wiz your fists."

"Least it's handlin' things, not like skirtin' around everythin' like your kind does," Trish bent down to play key shotgun on the ground too, and stood back up, rolling up her sleeves. She squared her stance and stood across from the Spy, tense and ready for a good old fashioned brawl.

Having a few regrets, Renée stared down the woman in front of her. Why. Whywhywhywhy. What are you doing? This is silly. Yet, she found herself crouching into a fighting position, though it was somewhat awkward compared to Trish's pose. This was not going to end well.

They stood like that for a long time, poised and ready to go at eachother, but neither moved. Trish was waiting for Renee to make the first move, and she assumed the RED Spy was doing the same. They wouldn't get anywhere if they carried on like this, and so Trish took the intiative to get things started. She stepped forward and her hands darted out, closing around the Spy's shoulders. She wrenched her upper body to the side, attempting to throw the smaller woman to the ground with as much force as she could muster.

WHY. WHYWHYWHYWHYWHY.

That was all Renée could hear. It echoed through her head as she was quite easily knocked to the ground by the Ginger woman. In a desperate attempt to regain some pride, she delivered a swift kick to the other woman, not being sure where it would land.

The kick Renée delivered was just enough to knock Trish off balance as she bounded towards the RED Spy, intent on landing another strike. Instead she fell, tumbling into the small woman and knocking her off her feet as well.

When they hit the ground, Trish made the best of her situation by straddling her slender waist with her thighs. Her hands scrabbled to take the Spy's, and she got her by the wrists, pressing them back into the dirt under them.


"Y'give up yet, Spah?" she asked, panting slightly.

The smaller woman wriggled slightly under the other woman, but knew that it would not get her far. Patricia was too close. She could feel the warmth of her body against her own. She shifted her wrist and tried to shimmy free, brushing her waist against the other woman's thighs. Pointless. Hopeless.

She scowled up at the Engineer grimly. "Zis." She looked down her chest and back up to Patricia to emphasise. "Is getting awkward."

Trish snorted. "S'not awkward, you're just sayin' that 'cause you're losin'." He acknowledged down close her breasts were to Rem, specifically her face, but made no comment. Besides, if all else failed she could smother the Spy with them and suffocate her. That could totally work.

"Oh, is zis what 'appens to losers? My, my.." She had given up the silly, half assed attempt to wrestle and now had her eyes on another prize. Perhaps intentionally, she leant upward, pressing her own chest very gently against Patricia's, a smile playing behind a forced frown on her red lips.

Trish pushed her shoulders in to try and pull her chest away from Renée's, but only succeeded in pushing her own breasts together with her arms. She was embarrassed, and she could feel her face get hot. She just scowled at the RED Spy in a way she hoped looked formidable.

"Yeah, this is what losers get." She squeezed Renée's wrist firmly, only enough to hurt a little. She smirked darkly, with an air of superiority. "D'you like bein' a loser?"

"tough words for a woman blushing like a little girl, oui?" the Spy asked with a smirk, even more bitterly impressed with the Engineer's cleavage.

"Zat is a rahzer dead ended question, cheri. If I enjoyed losing I would no' 'ave challenged you." she chuckled at her own foolishness. "but please, show me 'ow women of your caliber deal wiz zose who are second best" she said with a mischievous grin, not willing to say she was loser.

"M' not blushin' like a little girl," Trish grumbled. She tightened her grip on the Spy's wrists, probably bruising. "Gonna crush yer thin lil' wrists, then your thin lil' windpipe. Reckon you don't want that shown to ya, huh?"

She smirked down at the Spy. Surely the woman could admit defeat, the siren could go to end the battle, then they could go their separate ways.

A small, pained gasp escaped her lips as the Engineer bruised her wrists. Fuck, it felt like they might snap. Augh, how embarrasing. This was not her finest moment. However, she refused to admit defeat. Welling up her pride and some other things, the refined and classy female spy spat in the face of her enemy.

"Fak off." she turned her nose up and looked away from Patricia, somehow managing to snoot in such a hopeless situation.

Initially she'd had to push down the urge to let go of one of Spy's wrists and wipe the saliva from her face. She was certain that if she hadn't been wearing her goggles, it would've gotten in her eye.

"Now that wasn't very nice," she said, tone low and dangerous. She shifted to take hold of both the Spy's wrists in her human hand, and reached her metal one down to her neck. Metal fingers nudged the scarlet scarf aside, wrapping around her neck and giving the slgihtest bit of a squeeze. "Didn't your mama ever teach you manners? Spitting ain't polite, hun."