The BLU Spy and Sniper didn't get on.
Spy found it offensive the way the bushman would sit around all day in one of his nests and then complain about being too tired to do his share of the cleaning and cooking afterwards.
Sniper said he couldn't stand Spy's stinking cigarettes.
Spy thought that was rich, coming from a man who smelt like sweat and piss and something kind of unpleasantly damp, like stagnant water or pond weed.
Sniper said he thought the balaclava looked stupid and that the Spy was probably really ugly under there.
Spy argued that the horse-faced Sniper was one to talk.
The rest of the team just thought they should both shut up and talk about something new for once.
Despite his hatred for the man, Spy couldn't help but wonder where he sneaked off to every evening after dinner.
It'd taken him a while to notice it, much to his chagrin. Spies should notice everything. But he blamed the Sniper's loner attitude and his distant camper van for it, not any lacking on his own part
Once he'd noticed the bushman's strange behaviour though, Spy hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. Where did he disappear off to every single night? At first he'd presumed the bushman was off hunting. Twilight was probably a good time for that. But the Sniper never took his rifle with him, or even his kukri. In fact, he took very little with him at all. Not even his vest or aviators or trademark hat. Maybe that's what had really piqued Spy's interest. There was something odd going on here.
The Sniper might have just been going on innocent late night walks without his usual equipment, but he never made for the woods. Instead, he headed straight towards the battlefield. Spy had gone ahead and waited for him one evening, expecting him to take the main route across.
But he never appeared.
So Spy had decided that tonight would be the night he followed Sniper wherever he was going and got some answers.
At the usual time, the bushman left his van and began to walk away from the base, looking calm and nonchalant. The cloaked Spy couldn't help but notice though the way Sniper's eyes darted from side to side, watching for movement.
No one came out of the base and he passed Spy's hiding place without disturbance. Spy slipped out and followed after him. This was going to be a little tricky, his Cloak and Dagger wouldn't keep him hidden for long. He had to move in quick, light-footed bursts, stopping abruptly every time his cloak threatened to run out. Away from the base now, Sniper relaxed enough to start whistling to himself. It was a mindless little noise, snatched from some irritatingly catchy television advert.
Just as he approached the main gates to the battleground, Sniper took a sharp left and headed down the embankment. Spy didn't fancy walking over the muddy grass in his good shoes, but he was too curious to turn back now. Where on earth was Sniper going? And who or what was he expecting to find there?
A screeching sound reached his years; rusting metal being dragged over concrete. The grate. Sniper was going into the sewers, wasn't he?
Spy glanced at his watch. He needed to wait just a few more seconds.
By the time his cloak was recharged though, the Sniper was out of sight. Spy gingerly made his way over to the grate and the gaping wound in the wall that its removal had left.
The sewers. Great. Just where he wanted to go.
Though they weren't really part of the sewage system (Engineer assured him that the plumbing pipes for both bases went off in a completely different direction), the whole place still had an unpleasant smell to it and was permanently damp. Spy avoided using it as much as he could help, though sometimes a mad dash down there was necessary when there was Intelligence in hand and angry REDs close behind. One time he slipped off one of the more narrow of the slippery paths and fell straight into the stagnant water. He'd clawed his way back out, looking like a half-drowned cat. It was a pity the RED Scout had been there to see it, but at least he'd saved the Spy from squelching all the way back to his base in search of dry clothes.
In the sewers, everything echoed. Every plink of water droplets falling to the stone below rang out impossibly loud. They happened so often that the sounds all chased after one another, coming from all different directions. You'd turn your head one way to try and catch sight of one, only to hear another right behind and miss that one too when you swung around to check. The only ones you were guaranteed to catch were those that fell on your head or ran down the back of your neck.
Keeping his arms tucked in tightly to avoid the slimy green walls, Spy started off down the path. It was a long, straight section, but he couldn't make out any sign of Sniper at all. Most likely it was just down to the poor lighting. Spy was incredibly aware of how the moonlight shone in behind him. Best to keep cloaked if he didn't want to end up as a clearly visible silhouette.
Something caught his eyes then, a slight movement in the water. Spy recoiled, his elbow cracking against the curving stone wall. Great, he'd jumped at a rat or a frog or such and ended up with green muck smeared all over his arm.
Annoyed at himself, Spy took a step closer and forced himself to peer into the water. There as another tiny movement. For a moment he swore he saw thin, fine tendrils of...something. Like seaweed or long hair. Hopefully seaweed. He didn't like the images that popped into his mind of dead women floating listlessly in the murk below. Is that what the bushman was doing, dragging off helpless ladies and killing them down here? Spy wouldn't put it past the filthy bushman. He must have a pretty sordid reason for coming down here every night, after all.
Spy narrowed his eyes and stared down into the slow-moving water. No sign of anything else. No bloated corpses rising to the surface. No wide, desperate eyes staring back at him. Still, he was on edge as he continued on his way. The Sniper was down here and he was up to something.
Spy turned the next corner hesitantly and found himself staring at the last thing on earth he would have expected to see.
'What? What the hell?'
I'll be posting the second half of the story on Halloween. So if you're reading this any time after that, congrats on not having to wait!