In The Sewers

by TheGrangerChronicles

An old Teufort tale haunts the mercenaries of the modern day, bringing back memories and problems for the employees of Blutarch and Redmond. Incomplete, review it if you want more! :)

Pounding the pavement was a good way to start a victory, Scout surmised, juggling the Intel in his hands. That thought lasted him all of two minutes, until he rounded a corner and was jumped by a BLU Battle Medic.

He was still screaming in terror when he appeared in the spawn point. "Shit." He dashed off, eager to rescue the Intel before it got back to the desk. He emerged on the gangway, sprinting for the entrance to the BLU Fort. A bullet grazed the toe of his shoe and he jumped back in surprise, spotting the BLU Sniper raising his rifle level with his head. He dived off the side and ran for the sewers, hoping the RED Pyro had done a Spy Check. He wasn't very familiar with it, which showed when his foot caught the edge of a manhole and he went sprawling in the murky water. Water swirled around his ankle and he scrambled up to kick it back into place, but he overshot it and it ricocheted off the cement wall.

The unusual sound resounded around Scout, echoing around the tunnel and out across the 2Fort base. Every single mercenary stopped what they were doing to stare at the Scout emerging from the sewer entrance, sopping wet and paddling around in the high water. Silence filled the field. "Sorry, everyone," Scout waved a hand, embarrassed by the attention. The BLU Soldier was the only one who moved a muscle, pushing his helmet off his face and looking at the sewer behind Scout with his alarmingly big blue eyes. Scout scooped up the manhole cover from the quickly receding water.

The RED Sniper spoke in disbelief, also looking behind Scout. "Scout, you need to stop moving. Right now." He spoke calmly and quietly over the Scout's mike, he voice crackling uncomfortably in Scout's ear. Scout froze, gripping the metal disc so tightly his fingers hurt. Something moved in the water behind him, and the water pooled around his sodden sneakers. Sniper barely moved his lips as the BLU Soldier slowly, and so very, very calmly raised his rocket launcher and slowly moved into position. "Scout,, I need to you to move slowly, so slowly to your left. Please."

"ONLY 30 SECONDS REMAINING!" The speakers roared suddenly into the deathly quiet. The Soldier's trigger finger twitched and fired, just as the Scout lifted his foot. The rocket sailed through the air and time froze, sound leaving Scout's ears, apart from the sounds emerging from the tunnel behind him. He looked up at the rocket as it arced in the air… and tipped nose-down… directly towards him…

A shadow appeared in the water below him and as the rocket plunged down, arms and hands wrapped themselves around him as he straightened up to escape from the bomb. The were cold and scaly and there seemed to be hundreds, gripping him tighter.

Two metres.

One metre.

The heat was brushing across his face as the arms yanked him back into the shade of the sewer.

BLU and RED members watched as the Scout disappeared from sight and the bomb landed where he had been not a second before – and exploded.

The BLU Pyro and RED Demoman were blown away from the canal edge as the cement structure gave way, crumbling under the impact and collapsing the mouth of the sewer. The Heavies ran forward as the debris settled, pulling the huge blocks of cement away.

The RED Sniper dashed through the BLU fort, rivalling the BLU Scout's speed, to the other opening of the sewer, throwing himself down the stairs to be confronted by a mass of rubble. The light from the machines behind him did little to light the darkness ahead of him, and he coughed and gasped as the settling particles of dusty cement coated his mouth and sunglasses.

Something, a giant hulking mass of slippery darkness, shifted slightly as Sniper jumped over the rails and landed with a thin splash. He crept forward. A flash of red caught his eye and Scout's face revealed itself in the mass, scratched and bleeding from the flying mortar. He was barely conscious, and as he moved his head to look blearily at the Sniper the man saw the blood running down the side of his face. The Sniper darted forward and put his hand up to free the Scout from the wet cloth that he had become tangled up in. "It's okay, Scout, everything's going to be fine." He grabbed – a fish!? It was wet and porous, a skin, and as it released the Scout – he glimpsed red, raised circles of skin where the something had held on tight to the Scout's frail body. It was a tentacle.

A big, blue tentacle.

And Scout was in the middle of them all, crushed by a giant blue octopus. The legends were true. The great mass stirred and the tentacle Sniper was holding tensed, attaching itself to his glove and forearm. He reached for his Kukri but a tentacle like a brick threw him against the sewer wall, winding him. Scout murmured, fading fast as the tentacles draped themselves around him and the whole thing slithered across the floor. Sniper gasped and threw himself back at it but it only batted him away again, like a ragdoll. He could only watch, bruised and battered as the giant blue octopus slithered towards the open grate in the floor with Scout in its grip, disappearing from sight. The last thing Sniper saw before blacking out was a gloved hand reach out of the manhole for a dropped cigarette.

Back at the RED Fort, the Medic emerged from the Sniper's Medical Bay and shook his head at the rest of the assembled team.

"Zis dus not look gud. 'E is… babbling. Lunatic. I try to make sense, but it does not work!"

"What's he sayin', doc?" Engie asked, worried for his friend.

"'E is spouting some nonsense about octopuses."

"Octopi, Doktor."

"Ja, Heavy, danke. Octopi. Big, blue ones. Und zis is vat took ze Scout, ja?"

"Mmmfph!"

"Pyro's right, we all saw zis beastie in le sewer." The RED Spy nodded, dragging on the cigarette hanging from his mouth. "We all feel very…superstitious from zis event." He crossed his fingers and put them behind his back.

"Luck is good. Octopi – not good. Lead to problem. Do you know, Doktor? Do you know the story?"

"Nein. Please, I am new. Enlighten me so I may cure our fallen comrade."

Engie took the doctor aside for a moment, and reappeared with a white-faced Medic, whose eyes darted from side-to-side before readjusting his glasses and concluding that the Sniper didn't need a Medic, just a psychiatrist, and that Medic was going to have a lie-down and wanted nobody to disturb him.

"Ooh, Heavy join you, Doktor? I shall read your favourite story."

"Ja, Heavy, bitte. A story vuld be good. A... nice, story."

Later that night, Engie tapped on the Sniper's door, then walked straight in. Sniper was adjusting his bandages, so Engie averted his eyes until Sniper shrugged his shirt back on.

"How'r'ye doin', pardner?"

"Not so good, mate, but better than I bloody was."

Engie sat down on the bed next to Sniper, who looked miserable, bruised, cut and deflated.

"D'ya think Scout'll be coming back soon?" Sniper looked, almost too hopefully, into Engie's goggles.

"I dunno, Snipe. I just don't know."

If breathing was such an essential part of life, why couldn't he do it? Something was heavy on his chest, pressing him in from all sides. There was an obnoxious ringing in his ears as struggled to sit himself up and shrug off the bedsheets, which had twisted around him. It was a feeble attempt, but even so, pain flared up all over him. He felt as if he had been attacked by a piece of sandpaper. He forced his eyelids open as painful as even that seemed, and glimpsed in the dim light a figure in red.

The man came closer and spoke, but he couldn't hear anything, but recognised the yellow-lensed glasses the man wore. What was he doing in his bedroom? Did he sleepwalk?

"Sniper, you should go back to... ugh..." He murmured faintly, but his eyelids snapped themselves closed again as a massive throbbing began to pulse in his head. He didn't realise how abnormally cold his bedsheets were until they suddenly tightened around him, twisting themselves around him as if he had been spinning in his sleep.

Then they were dragging him away from the Sniper, who was lying on the floor, looking at him, one arm outstretched. And then he was falling. Definitely a dream, then.

Then all of a sudden, cold water slapped him in the face and he woke up fully, every cut, bruise and graze on fire. Salt water. Sea water.

He tried to pull himself free but his prison just got tighter, and that's when he realised. Not sheets. Tentacles.

He had fallen into the manhole, into the underground chasm of sewer tunnels, and an octopus or a squid or something was picking a fight with him. He would show them who was boss – as soon as he got free, writhing and squirming like a fish as the current in the tunnels dragged them further away from 2Fort. He wriggle, twisting himself around, but it was no use. He couldn't get himself free.

"There is no use trying, moi petit c'eu fleur. You will only succeed in hurting yourself." The sudden, disembodied voice of the Spy called out somewhere behind him. The French accent hit him in the ears like a hammer.

"Spy? Dat you?" Scout looked around for his teammate, as far as his neck would let him. "Where are you, man?"

The Scout stuck his foot out to drag it through the shallow water, trying to find some purchase on the smooth cement floor, but a powerful tentacle just reached out and scooped it back up, reinforcing Scout's building feeling of helplessness.

"Help me outta here, you jerk! Spy!" It struck him that it could have been the BLU Spy that threw him down here. That bastard.

The laughing only got louder and more obnoxious, and Scout's temper rose. He thrashed about, furious.

"You might want to hold your breath now, moi petit c'eu fleur."

The Scout complied, expecting the Spy to de-cloak and attack, but instead his world tipped and he and his assailant were falling, rushing past sheets and sheets of cement, water rushing around them, falling further and further as the sound of the water roared in his ears.

And then daylight. Scout was amazed at how much blue sky there was above him, with no buildings teetering above. And then the sky rushed towards him and he saw the ripples and waves well before he saw his reflection.

Impact.

The tentacles moved around him, becoming more streamlined and the rippling surface fell away his impossibly strong kidnapped almost flew into the depths of the vast blue ocean. Scout watched as bubbles of air escaped all around him, and he realised that he had just experienced the last few moments of his life. He had drowned before, but he had simply respawned. It was highly unlikely that they'd extend the spawn area all the way out here. His captor moved so fast it was unbelievable how quickly the sea around him got dark. Fish danced past them as he held his breath. They sped over stunningly beautiful coral as his lungs burned and his throat convulsed. He closed his eyes and waited for the euphoria of drowning, knowing his brain cells would be shutting down in the space of seconds.

The tentacles suddenly convulsed and he was thrown from them through the water, towards a giant bubbles… of air.

His head cleared the skin and he gulped in the air. It was sweet and stale, and his vision spun, and he floated on the surface, eyes still closed, just breathing and trying to remember how to move his body again. He was sore, and it felt like he had been pricked with a million needles all over his body. Finally, the damn octopus had given up. Or it thought he was dead. Or he was. His body suddenly went completely numb and his throat suddenly felt like it held his furiously beating heart. Everything felt distant. He opened his eyes and he was seeing double of what seemed to be a barnacle-stained cave ceiling. Then his mind went fuzzy and he was sinking through the water slowly as a brightly coloured starfish rippled beyond the water's surface just above him.

Two strong arms propelled him up and he was back at the surface and breathing normally again. He saw a masked face and watched the lips move, but it was a second or two before anything reached his ears, how distant it seemed.

"Scout? Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale." The BLU Spy's voice was tinny in his ears, not the usual smooth rumble.

Scout spoke, and it seemed to make sense at first, but then his mind realised it was just a handful of random words strung together, and then he was trying to grab the Spy's coat and then he was freezing and the Spy grabbed his head and turned it, staring at it intently. Scout started to cry, as a random memory floated into the front of his mind: the first time he had ever seen a rainbow.

"Stay with me Scout, stay awake, damn you!"

No. He thought lucidly, and then, five more minutes, Mom.

An acrid stench suddenly filled his nostrils and he irritatingly remained conscious, suspended in a sleepy, detached state of limbo as he felt pressure on his head and felt the coarse material of leather gloves brush over his face every so often. He heard the Spy's voice and listened to what he was saying (even if his addled brain wasn't letting him understand), and it made him feel better. He felt safe, as if he was back at the 2Fort medical ward peacefully recovering and anticipating Medic's dismissal so he could join in the next battle.

When he opened his eyes next, his head felt a good deal lighter, and a coarse bandage was wrapped around it. He was lying on a rocky surface and he could feel water lapping lazily at his outstretched arm. He raised his head to look around for the BLU Spy, but that was obviously a bad move as the world spun and little bursts of colour appeared behind his eyes.

"How are you feeling, moi petit ceu fleur?" It was the Spy, who had emerged almost silently from the water, scaring the Scout out of his wits.

"Spy! You're here? Where the hell am I? What happened to dat octopus? Sit up here and spill the beans – is dat octopussy still in one piece?" He patted the spot next to him on the edge of the water.

"I am fine. Everything is fine, Scout. You should rest here for a while." The BLU Spy patted Scout on the bandage, but his glove lingered a little too long. Scout saw something cloud the Spy's eyes. Sadness? Regret? He wasn't sure, and it was gone too quickly to be sure it was even there.

The Scout looked up and surveyed the ceiling. "I'm probably not gonna get any more sleep, spook."

"Nonsense. And I am not zis 'spook'. I resent zat. I must tell ze Sniper to stop calling me by zat name."

"I must'a been runnin' at da mouth – sayin' all sorts a' crazy shit before. I can't remember a thing, not properly. Was I drunk?"

"Scout, you were in shock, delirious and suffering from a mild concussion. You had every right not to make ze slightest ounce of sense. Zat huge cut on your 'ead was not helping things either, so you're also under a lot of strain creating new blood without ze help of ze 2Fort respawn effect."

"Dat's nonsense, spook."

"Stop calling me zat. I forgot you were not proficient in ze art if English, moi petit c'e fleur."

Scout splashed water in his face. "Even so, you're crazy for followin' me. Do da udders know where we are?"

"Not a clue."

"Dat's good. Don't tell 'em I got bashed up by an octopus."

"Ok, Scout."

There was a silence as the water lapped lazily and rhythmically on the bank. Scout adjusted his shoulder so the rock underneath him stopped digging into him. He felt numb and grazed.

"Would you like me to sing you to sleep, Scout?"

Scout raised an eyebrow. "What da hell, man?"

"I know a beautiful lullaby by Brahms – "

"Dat's gay, man. I'm not gay."

"How about a story, then?" Silence. "I'll take that as a yes. Once upon a time, zere was zis homosexual male called ze RED Scout – "

"Dude!? What da hell! I'm not gay!" Scout's forehead reflected his sudden rage.

"Ok, Scout," The Spy caved in, chuckling. "I will explore zis cavern until you wake again." And all that was left was a ripple in the water.

In his room, the Sniper couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned and paced the room, then threw himself back into bed again, but every time he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, the image of the octopus – no, it have been the Kraken – startled him out of any fuzzy-minded sleepiness. What if the Scout was dying? What if he was already dead? It would be the Sniper's fault for not knifing that thing when he had the chance...

Respawn.

There was still a chance.

Sniper leapt out of bed, threw himself into the corridor and raced down to the Spawn Room. He pulled up the roller door, expecting Scout to turn and glare at him, where da hell you been, man? I was getting lonely in the sewers, and tell him everything. But there was nothing, only the cupboards showed anything remotely human, the only sign that the room was every used.

Sniper wandered over to the lockers and rummaged through his stuff, checking pockets for anything that might cheer him up. Then his fingers closed over something small and cylindrical. He turned it over in his hands. A cigarette butt? But the Spy had been nowhere near the –

"Snahperrr? Is thaht yoo?"

He spun around so quickly he almost fell over, startled by the sloshed Demoman, who was looking him up and down, eye opened wide in surprise.

"Nayce knickerbockers, mehyt." The exceedingly drunk Scotsman slurred, waving an empty bottle at Sniper's boxers and bare chest. Sniper suddenly started shivering, feeling the cold rouse him from his depressed stupor. Teeth chattering, he asked him if it was possible to respawn while outside the boundary. "Oh aye, for def'nat'ly. Joost kiddin', yer screwed." The Demoman stumbled off to find his near-depleted stash of liquor. Sniper followed him, out of interest. He had never known where Demoman hid his vice, the man's lips were tighter than a jar of... well.

He followed him through a series of hallways, confident that the Demoman was in too unco- a state to realise he was being followed. When his muscles started spasming from the lack of warmth halfway across the battlements, he crouched in the darkness and waited for the Demoman to return, wishing he had grabbed at the very least his jacket from the locker.

"Oi-yah! Snahperr! Where've yoo got to?"

Sniper was surprised that he had been noticed. He followed the Demoman's voice to a hole in the ground – no, a sort of underground storage, and stepped inside. It was warm, and full of boxes and boxes of some of the most toxic poisons known to man, bottled and ready for consumption. The Scotsman had gotten a small fire going in a corner (well clear from the brandies and whiskeys) and was waving him forward, offering a bottle at him.

"Yer look layke ye need it, lad. Yer quiv'rin in yer jimmies! God noss ye need a drink, ter strengthen yer spirits. Ye look layke a flippin' zombie!" The Demoman chuckled at his joke and the Sniper grinned acknowledging the comment, knowing he wasn't the best at hiding emotions. "Siddoon, siddoon. Git warm, ye wee fool. Why're yoo oot and aboot in yer jammies, eh?"

Sniper took a swig of the whiskey and blanched as the fire in his throat consumed any word he would ever say again.

"Dinnae fash yersel'," The Demoman's accent thickened as he downed a bottle in one go. " 'Eel coom back when 'e's oongry."

Much later, in the small hours of the morning, Demoman and the Sniper were wandering the corridors of the RED base, an arm around each other and swapping songs they could belt out so loudly and out of tune at 3 in the morning.

"-TAKE ME KOALA BACK JACK JUS' TAKE ME KOALA BACK –"

" – ZING GREYCE HOO SWEHT THA SOOND – "

" – WE TANNED 'IS 'IDE WHENNEE DIED CYLDE AN' THA'SIT 'ANGIN' ONNER SHED ORTOOGEVER NOW – "

The Sniper and the Demoman suddenly collapsed laughing, giggling like schoolgirls, when the door they were leaning on opened and Medic poked his head out to find the source of the drunken wailing. "You two shizerkopfs had better shut ze hell up or I vill personally kill you right now."

"Coom at me, brah."

"Get'm Demmerm'n, yew bloody legend."

Medic glared at them.

"'Ang onna minnit. Isn't that 'Eavy's room?" Sniper narrowed his eyes at Medic, craning his neck to meet his gaze when Medic savagely threw the door open and the two of them fell flat on their backs. Sniper continued to penetrate the Medic's icy stare.

" 'Ello leetle Sniper, 'ello leetle Demoman." The Russian waved at them from the bed, and yawned. "Docktor vos keepink me company." Sniper and Demoman's eyes were synchronised, looking at Heavy, then at Medic, at Heavy again, and finally back to the Medic.

"Heavy is having trouble sleeping. I am trying to find out why. If drunken hooligans must parade around outside vile the Heavy is sleepink, it is no vunder. Go to bed."

"No." Sniper pouted angrily and received a kick to the head. "Deserved that. Sorry."

Demoman giggles and shushed him, which Sniper seemed to think was hilarious. Eventually Heavy had to carry each of them back to their respective rooms, and after much coaxing, the two of them were fast asleep and Heavy remarked to the Medic: "Gud thing for leetle Sniper that tomorrow is weekend, da?"

"Ja, Heavy, zat is for sure. I vill not eny him ze headache he vill have in the morning."

When Scout woke again, he once again heard the silence of the cave around him, and splashed the water beside him to make the phosphorescence dance along the roof and walls. He felt less woozy than before, but it wasn't long until he realised how cold he was, and how violently a frame like his could shiver.

"S-sp-s-SPY!" He wrapped his arms around himself for warmth and not finding much comfort. His earpiece crackled, damaged by the water, so he took it off and stowed it in a nook in the rocky wall to let it fizzle and die in peace.

Spy's balaclava'd headhead broke the surface of the water."How are you feeling, Scout?"

"Ah'm freezing! I've prob'ly caught hyperthermia!"

"It's hypothermia, Scout."

"I don't care! I need warmth! Why haven't you built a fire or somethin' yet?"

Spy motioned towards the water. "It is warmer once you are in the water. Besides, I have not found a way out yet, unless you can hold your breath."

Scout silently accepted the challenge, standing up, and before the Spy could protest, dived over him into the water and down into the badly-lit cavern. He saw a tunnel of light, which could only be an exit, but was yanked out of the water again by a gloved hand.

"-must be an idiot to jump into dangerous water like that, merde, you could have killed yourself! Do you know how much – "

"Hey! I found it as easy as pie, spook! It was right there! I could've – " The Spy dragged him back onto the rock and slipped back into the water to check for wounds. But this wasn't before the Scout had seen him. Actually, the Scout wasn't sure what he had seen. He had seen the Spy's moving, breathing torso and head, but to Scout's utter bewilderment, below the jacket of his blue suit lay sprawled an octopus – no pinstriped blue legs in sight. The Spy and the octopus seemed one and the same.

The words on Scout's tongue vanished as his mind sought for logic in the situation. Spy's face contorted into one of shock and silent apology, as if he couldn't believe the Scout had found out.

"... I feel... dizzy. I'm seein' things, Spy." His hand went up to his head and he braved another glance at the Spy, who was coming closer to the ledge again as if to roll out of the water again.

It hadn't been the octopus he was fighting, and the BLU Spy hadn't followed him to try and save him – it had been the Spy who had kidnapped him from 2Fort and brought him here, almost killing him twice without apology and ruining his chance at the victory for the day.

He had to get away from this monster.

His eyes darted to the water rippling below his little ledge, and the Spy hesitated. Scout flicked his hand spasmodically, signalling 'Go away', and the Spy moved slowly from the shallow water and climbed onto a rockpile in the centre of the cavern, the thick blue tentacles dropping and curling lazily around the column as if they had a life of their own. Scout snapped his gaze upwards. The meagre light from the hole in the cavern roof revealed very little below the surface of the water, but was it big enough for an escape route? The light was silvery, almost tangible. Moonlight, on a full moon.

His attention snapped back to the Spy. The eyes were focused and the body tense – he knew what the Scout was about to try, and every single one of his limbs rippled in the anticipation of stopping him. Let him try.

The Scout leapt to the nearest pile of rocks, then to a broken stalagtite, avoiding a grasping tentacle and launching himself at the wall and bouncing off it, twisting mid-air and throwing his arms up to catch and hold onto the edge of the hole. He swung precariously for a moment and then threw an arm up into the space above, followed by his head. He could hear the Spy-octopus mutant splashing around in the water below him, and as he was desperately trying to twist his hips to get through it went silent, He could hear the disturbed water lapping at the walls of the cave below, and a low-quiet buzzing – his head hurt.

Just as he cleared the hole, bringing his legs up and getting his sodden sneakers covered in sand, the Spy's balaclava exploded towards him as the octopus-man launched himself from the water towards him. The Scout kicked sand in his eyes and the Spy cried out, grabbing the hole's edge. Scout grabbed his useless scattergun and smashed the butt of it on the Spy's nose with enough force to shatter it. The Spy shrieked, falling back into the water and writhing around on the surface as the Scout quickly looked around him for a sufficient hole cover. He brushed around the wall next to him and found an almost immobile rock, which he rolled over the hole and sat down on top of, out of breath, gasping for air in the sand-filled cavern he was in. It didn't even seem to be made of rock. There was sand everywhere, piled up against the wall, which were close enough for him to stretch out both arms and brush his fingertips against. He looked up and whimpered when he realised he had trapped himself in a giant, sandy funnel, a beach chimney. There was an opening directly above him, but directly above him seemed so far away he didn't think he could reach it even if he had the skills of the Soldier's Rocket Jump. He was screwed. He had just trapped himself more effectively than the Spy had achieved. He curled up on the rock and tried not to cry.

A few hours later:

"How are you feelingk?" The Medic asked the Australian, who had woken in a panic, making the Medic race into his room to calm him down and stop him punching the walls.

"Not good, doc, I just lost one of my best friends – to an octopus! You have no idea how that feels."

The Medic nodded sagely. "Not everyone experiences zis, so I can only offer my condolences, Sniper. The Heavys are still clearing ze debris and our Soldier is down in the sewer now. Ve are doingk our best to keep ze Pyros from gettingk down there, but they are both so enthusiastic... a temporary ceasefire has been organised by Mann Co., and a search party has come together to search the beach tomorrow. You have keen, experienced eyes – vill you join us? Ve vould value your support, as the BLU Sniper is apparently allergic to seawater. He von't tell us why."

Sniper poised on the edge of his chair, a half-empty bottle of alcohol hanging loosely between his fingers. "Maybe."

"The salty air vill clear your head, comrade. You need zis."

"I'll think about it."

"Doctor's orders."

Sniper chuckled, tossing the bottle between his hands. "You can't make me, doc."

"Ve'll see about that tomorrow morningk... which is in about 2 hours." The Medic stood up to leave, snapping the locks on the medical briefcase shut. "And I shall take zat." Medic snatched the bottle from his hands, nodded and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Sniper huffed, throwing himself from the chair to the bed, and tried to visualise himself getting any sleep without the alcohol to sustain it. He was pretty sure what he had been guzzling what was absinthe, knowing the Demoman. He wasn't going to drop off so easy...

He looked down at the body of the Scout, lying twisted and mangled at the bottom of the sewer tunnel. Tears were still falling from the boy's eyes and flowing through the muddy water of the tunnel, their pure crystal trails leading his gaze into the dark.

He sat bolt upright, breathing heavily and trying to erase the vision from his head. He checked the time. 4:26. He'd only been asleep for half an hour. He laid back down on the pillow and tried to think of happy things.

He was being thrown against the wall, hit, kicked and bruised. He couldn't see anything, could only hear the snort of laughter that followed him everywhere he was thrown. He hit a wall and slid down its length. A punch to the stomach forced his eyes open and he saw the balaclava-clad face of his assailant. The BLU Spy grinned.

"Ta petit cheri la mienne, Sniper! Abandonner!"

Sniper brought up his arm in a right hook but the Spy caught it and slammed it back against the wall. "I don't speak frog, you bastard!" Even though he seemed to understand every word.

"Sssshhh..."

"What the fuck have you done with the Scout, you bloody mongrel?!"

The Spy's body leant up against his, his weight pinning him to the wall. His lips brushed the Sniper's ear. "Cela ne vous concerne pas," He felt the Spy's weight shift a little and suddenly the biting cold metal of the butterfly knife was at throat. The metal spread itself across his skin, wrapping like a scarf around his neck. The Spy began to laugh, loudly and manically and the knife turned into tentacles wrapping around him and the spy, who laughed and laughed and laughed and the Sniper sat up in bed again, sweating and tugging at his clothes, subconsciously trying to get the nonexistent tentacles off of him. He looked at the clock. He had been asleep for 20 minutes. The Sniper resigned himself to waiting until dawn, not wanting to confront the terrors of his subconscious again.

The Scout woke to a knocking on the rock beneath him. It could only have been the tentacled Spy, his sleepy mind reasoned. Heehee, Tentaspy. Another knock woke him fully and he resolved to get more sleep until he managed to escape.

"Scout? I know you are in there. Could you answer me, please?"

The Scout huffed angrily. He didn't want to believe it, but this TentaSpy scared the shit out of him. He rapped his knuckles on the on the rock and rolled over onto his back.

"I'm sorry for the way all of zis has turned out, I had no intention of... kidnapping you like zis. I actually need to talk to mon ami... ze Medic, but it seems ze atmosphere since my disappearance so many years ago 'as only gotten more tense and... paranoia-driven."

The Scout stayed silent, willing him to go away. He watched the stars wink at him through the opening in his sandy cage.

"I only wanted to save you from the poorly-aimed rocket the neanderthal shot at you, believe me."

Scout could hear the change in the Frenchman's voice. He had broken his nose. Victory. He grinned smugly, putting his arms behind his head. But then his stomach growled noisily, ruining everything.

"I heard zat."

Shit, how thin was this rock anyway? He put out his foot and disturbed the sand, watching it trickle down the wall.

"Do you like seafood, Scout? I can get you some, if you like."

The fallen sand revealed that the funnel he was in wasn't a funnel – it was a pipeline. Silvery, rusted metal and a serial number glared at the Scout's intruding sneaker. He looked up properly at this point, surveying the sand- and shell-encrusted pipe for a way up to the top.

"Sure, dude. Sounds great."

"... On one condition."

The Scout froze. Was he trying to bargain with him?

"You come back down here where I can see you."

Should he stay up here and infuriate the Spy, eventually starving to death if this pipe was no escape-route in disguise? Or go down there and submit to the Spy's constant supervision, losing his chance to escape right now?

His stomach and guilt at misunderstanding the Spy's intentions won him over. Besides, he could always jump back up and try again when the Spy left to go get their dinner. Or breakfast, whatever the time was. Ugh, it'd be raw fish, wouldn't it? The Scout pulled a face as he shifted the rock out of the way and got on his front, sticking his head through the hole to see where the TentaSpy was.

"Alright, I'm comin' down. None of 'dat funny stuff, okay? And I don't like raw f- oof!"

Strong hands grippe either side of his head and pulled. He toppled headfirst through the whole, powerless to stop the inertia that had been set in motion.

He plunged into the cold water, and it rushed up his nose and into his ears. Something moved in the darkness and he spun in the water, trying to follow it, but it was too fast and he lost sight of it. He was screwed. This fight was in the water now. This was where the TentaSpy had dominion, and this was where the Scout would lose. He had to get to dry land to even the odds. He had almost broken the surface when tentacles wrapped around his newly-healed arms and he felt the needles in the suckers embed themselves once again into his skin. Wait. If the Spy was down here, whose hands had –

His ability to think was lost as the Spy dashed the squirming Scout against an underwater stalagmite and he fell limp. Wrapping a tentacle around the dazed Scout's chest, he raced him to the surface.
Bringing the boy to the surface, he cradled his head on his shoulder to keep his bewildered face out of the water.

"He vill be coming arount any second now."

"Oui, he is only dazed."

"You should not rough-house wiz a concussed man, you du–"

"Excuzez-moi, zis was your idea, madman!"

"Who is ze one wiz ze bonesaw? Who is it? Who is it!?"

"Oh, here we go – next, you will be ordering me to call you Creator, or Master, and I can assure you, monsieur, zat you can shove your bonesaw–"

"Wha's 'ap'nin'? Arrrrghhhh, faaaaaahhhk..." The Scout clasped his head, groaning and curling up in the Spy's embrace. "Mah 'ead urrrs..." He mumbled into the Spy's shoulder.

"Bring ze boy up 'ere."

The Spy glared ad hugged the Scout closer. "Can't you see zis boy is unfit? Let 'im rest!"

"Ssshhhh... mah 'eeaaaad..."

"Zis does not matter. I can fix zis easily. Und you are gripping him too tightly."

"You won't!"

"I will do better zan you. You caused zis for him. Give him here."

"Non."

"I could reverse all I have done to you, but I guess zis is not vat you vant – ja?" The Spy's grip on the Scout released, ever so slightly. "Zat is it, Herr Spy. Just help me und I vill set you free. You vant to see zis boy's mama again, ja?"

"Don't you bring 'er into zis, you swine!"

A laugh, deep and booming in the echoing cave. "Here, forget her wiz zis. I brought it for you." The Spy grabbed the bottle of absinthe.

"It is half-empty. You are still a swine." He approached the ledge and looked up into the Medic's eyes. "If you kill 'im, I'll kill you."

"Hey! Nobody's killin' nobody, ya hear me!?" The Scout was awake and thrashing now, with a monster headache.

"Und he is ze one whose first language is English..." The Medic shook his head. "Stand up, herr Scout. Nobody is going to die."

The Spy sank into the water slowly, clutching the alcohol, until he was out of sight, glaring daggers at the Medic the whole time.

"But – hey! Doc! You're – you're here! How did you find me? I was almost out of here, anyhow... how is everybody? They weren't too worried, were they?"

"Scout, slow down, you are speakingk too fast for me. Here, sit down in zis chair." The RED Medic gestured at an alcove that looked highly medical, with an old-fashioned, rusty-looking dentist's chair. The Scout obliged, astounded he hadn't seen the surgical equipment before – but he had been concussed, so what was he to know?

"Sure, Doc, I – "

"Scout," The Medic interrupted him, leaning on the arm of the chair. "Before we proceed, I need your opinion on a little matter. I was cleaning out the Medical Bay when I found zis 'oxytank' – a way to get you out of here – "

Scout jumped at the chance to escape. "Gimme the tank, Doc! Let's go before that TentaSpy thing rears his ugly head again!"

Medic put a gloved hand on his chest, pushing him back into the lean of the chair. "Nein, Scout, you must be calm or you will not take it in properly. Here, try it now." He handed him a simple oxygen mask, tying it around the back of his head and cracking the tank and attaching the nozzle to it. He turned the clamp and it was only a few seconds before Scout sensed that something was wrong. This wasn't the brisk, clean feeling oxygen loaned – his body felt heavy and clumsy, and he sank into the cold, hard steel of the medical chair as if it were a pillow.

"Dat's... dasnotokshyun, Do'..."

"I know zis, Scout. It is a general anaesthetic of my own invention. The fact that you succumbed so quvickly means you are not strong enough to be a part of our team; zough by your efforts on the battlefield, this was very obvious to ze uzzer mercenaries. They told me of zis problem und I resolved to investigate your abilities before I too named you a pathetic excuse for un assassin und a discredit to RED. Do you understand vat I am saying?" The tears that had sprung up in the weakened Scout's eyes were an obvious answer. He had tickled the heartstrings of the easily influenced, gullible young boy, just as he had planned. "Now, herr Scout, I give you a choice."

Scout's eyes had trouble focusing on the Medic's face, and his eyesight drifted across the dim light of the eerily empty cavern, settling on the Tentaspy, who sat in an alcove in the wall holding the bottle of alcohol tenderly. The Spy's eyes flickered over to the Scout's, met, and darted away. He took a big swig from the bottle and glowered at the wall, sinking down into an octopus-shaped hole of depression.

"You can either let me... modify your body to help the evolution of our team, from average mercenaries to supermen..." Scout tried to sit up, pushing against the force of the anaesthetic, but fell back, exhausted. He tried to swing his arm up into a punch, but his arm only flopped uselessly towards the Medic, who calmly brought up his hand and pulled the Scout's arm back to the bench, wrapping a Velcro strap around it. Scout sighed inwardly. He was going nowhere, super fast. How did he get himself into these situations? He wished that he had stayed up in that beach chimney... "Or I vill leave you heer wiz ze drunken... TentaSpy forever, und ve vill never let you return to ze team. You let us down and ve can easily... order in a new, stronger, more efficient Scout." The Scout wriggled again, but the straps the Medic had put in place held firmly. He pulled out a medical mask and put it on. "So vich vill it be?"

The Scout looked at the TentaSpy again. He looked positively murderous. It was a quick decision.

He nodded weakly at the Medic, not trusting his now drooling, flabby mouth not to scream, and trying to figure out what the Medic meant by 'modify'. He'd turn out super strong and faster afterwards, anyway. What was there to lose?

The Medic's eyes glimmered as his brow furrowed. He grinned behind the mask, turning the nozzle on the bottle of anaesthetic. "Very gud. Let us begin."

"LEETLE SNIPER WAKE UP NOW."

Heavy roared into his ear, making his brain explode and his body splinter and break. He knew that if he moved a muscle, his sanity would disintegrate and he'd be hurled straight to the ninth bloody circle of hell...

"LEETLE SNIPER."

Go away you great big oaf.

"HEY. LEETLE SNIPER NEED TO PUT ON PANTS."

Somebody giggled. Actually, he did feel a bit of a breeze...

"HEEHEEHEE. LEETLE SNIPER HAS LEETLE ROUND BUTTCHEEKS. HAHAHAHAH – "

"Get out of here, Heavy! Ow..." Sniper threw a pillow, hoping his aim was alright. From Heavy's point of view, the throw was appalling.

"LEETLE NAKED SNIPER THROWS LIKE LEETLE GIRL. LEETLE NAKED SNIPER NEEDS TO PUT ON SHOOTING PANTS TO BE GOOD AT BULLSEYE."

He felt his brain do flips in his skull. Damn that bloody Russian... his stomach heaved and he was violently sick into a bucket somebody had placed beside the bed. Damn that bloody Scotsman, damn that bloody absinthe...

When he next opened his eyes, he was fully dressed and being mollycoddled by someone, bouncing around in what he immediately realised was his own van. Something was in his face, and he butted it away with his nose, twisting his neck to see who was cuddling him so tightly. Gods above, they were even stroking his head...

"Geroffa me, yew fire-breathing half-wit no, don't nuzzle me! Get that bloody baby's bottle outta me face! I don't need water! Who stole my van? You're a fine bunch of bloody thievin' wankers, that's whatchu are..." The Pyro let him go with a sad little 'mmrphf' and he sat up, squinting to shut out the meagre light that was blazing holes in his eyeballs. "Okay, who's driving me van?"

"That'd be me, private!" The Soldier called back from the wheel.

"Faggot!"

"Maggot."

"Where are we going?" Sniper turned around, deciding not to engage in a battle of insults with the American, who only had one.

"Doktor not tell you last night, leetle Sniper?"

Sniper squinted again in recollection. "To tell the truth, Heavy, I barely remember a thing." Another fault in his life he could blame on the Demoman.

"We are going to ze beach, monsieur Sniper, at ze end of ze pipeline. Ze Medic is meeting us zere." The RED Spy spoke up.

Sniper nodded, then clutched his head in agony. He staggered as the van suddenly turned a corner and the Pyro pulled him back into its lap, holding him so tightly that the pain actually seemed to ease. Sniper was okay with this. What are the chances we're going to find the Scout out here? He tried not to think of the answer, instead concentrating on the image of the massive blue octopus and the BLU Spy's gloved hand reaching for his dropped cigarette, spiriting his friend away, far beyond his reach. A thought occurred to him – what if the Scout was dead? What if they found a half-eaten corpse, bloated, blue and washed up on shore? Sniper almost puked again.

The van finally pulled to a halt and the mercenaries tumbled out onto the white sand. The sun shone and beyond the yards and yards of brilliant white sand was the ocean, blue and forever, its waves sparkling in the sunlight. I'm back in Australia, the Sniper thought, just as he blacked out from unfiltered UV light overload.

When the Scout opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was how sore his throat was, and how painful his wrists were as the straps caught at his broken skin. And then he remembered everything.

The anaesthetic had eventually left him, leaving him conscious to what was happening, watching, screaming and trying to tear himself away as the Medic had – oh no. The Scout squirmed out of the head strap the Medic had put on him and lifted his head to look down at his legs.

Had he had any anymore, they would have turned to jelly.

There was a bandage around his hips, just covering his bellybutton, covering the join between his pelvic area and his new... limb. He didn't even know how to move the darned thing, it was a fish's tail for god's sake! His lungs began to hurt all of a sudden. Aching, yet stabbing pain, and he was searching for a reason until he realised his throat was straining and he was gasping for air. He was suddenly so thirsty, so very thirsty. He thrust his arms up in a desperate plea to free himself and the straps suddenly gave way. He took hold of the ones around his torso and... tail, and ripped them apart, throwing himself off the operating table and onto the rough cavern floor. The tail fell down uselessly behind him, puling at muscles he didn't even know he possessed. He dragged himself towards the water lapping lazily at the edge of the rock.

Tentacles suddenly shot out of the water and wrapped around his outstretched arms and torso, dragging him the rest of the way. The water enveloped him and he opened his mouth to cry out but his muscles contracted the wrong way and he felt something open up on his neck. Gills, he thought as the water passed over his new mixture of skin and scales.

The tentacles reeled him in, pulling him closer to the quasi-Frenchman. Scout couldn't be bothered resisting him, he knew he wasn't getting out of here now. The Medic had tricked him. There was no way he would be accepted back into Teufort now. He couldn't even breathe air properly, and even if there was some way around that, there was no way he could be Scout anymore. To be a Scout you needed two legs. He didn't even have that left.

If only the Sniper, in that last bleary memory of normality, had managed to pull him out of the tangled mess his life was about to become...

He wriggled in the grip of the TentaSpy, but half-heartedly. He must look like fish food now. He looked down at his tail, watching the scales gleam and the tentacles twist around him as he tried to get used to the idea. Two blue-sleeved arms draped themselves over his shoulders as the Spy pressed his balaclava-clad cheek to the Scout's.

"You came back to me, moi petit fleur!" The Spy sounded genuinely pleased, rather than grumpy, as the Scout had feared. The Spy mumbled into his ear, and the Scout could almost taste the alcohol in the water around them. The Spy was absolutely sozzled.

"Je ne me sens pas à ma place ici... je me sens si seul... un retour à la normale... pour de bon..." The Spy's voice trailed off and the Scout twisted in his grip.

"Get offa me, ya fuckin' jackass!"

"Qu'est-ce qe vous voulez dire? Je ne comprends pas – "

"I don't speak your freakin' language, frog! Let me go!"

The Spy twisted the Scout around to face him, and the Scout was shocked to see the Spy's face scrunched up, as if he were about to cry. When the tears didn't form, the Spy wrenched him into a tight hug and refused to let go, despite the Scout's violent – yet restricted – protests.

"Viens ici!"

"Get off!"

"Quelle charmante surprise – quand je me suis reveille, j'ai découvert que je ne pouvais plus bouger mes jambes, j'ai tout de suite su que quelque chose n'allait mal– "

"Do ya sprecken da English, or are you just too drunk t'uh remember?" Scout tugged an arm free and pulled at a tentacle, only to be wrested back by the lonely tentacle.

"Mais regardez, je peux bouger après tout. Pouvez-vous le voir? Je suis fier," Then the Spy pulled him into a bone-crushing hug and promptly fell asleep, mumbling "...Je suis fier..." The Scout could only wait until he woke up and pray he didn't have a horrible hangover. He watched as the empty absinthe bottle floated up to the surface of the water, bobbing gently, just out of his reach.

The RED Search party split up into pairs along the beach – they weren't particularly happy to be in the presence of the BLUs, so they took the west length of the beach and the REDs took the east. It wasn't long before the Soldier had grouped them all around the sewer exit and paired them off. The Sniper was to search the dunes with the Pyro, the Spy and the Soldier were to interrogate the rocks of the pier, and the Heavy opted to scan the pier's shallow water with the Medic as soon as he showed up. The Demoman, for obvious reasons, was not chosen to be in the search party, due to the fact that he only had one eye and refused to put down his liquor long enough to search properly. The Sniper, thanks to constant hydration from his ridiculously affectionate teammate, was feeling a hell of a lot better, and could scan the sand without much pain. The Pyro just decided to burn what... they... could, sending the Sniper flying every so often with the backburner. At least, if they found the elusive BLU Spy and the equally blue kraken, they could leave with stomachs full of takoyaki. They swept the dunes for a few hours, as close to the craggy cliffs looming dark and dangerous as they could be bothered, and it was just before midday when the Medic, who had turned up just after the search had begun, suggested a change in scenery. Sniper turned to his masked, mumbling friend and pointed noiselessly at the shallow water and the sand downhill. The Pyro nodded eagerly. "Mmphf!"

That dunes work was a waste of time, The Sniper thought but didn't say, fearing the wrath of the Soldier, who liked to be strictly thorough in a search. Octopi won't hang out here in the sun, it's too bloody hot. After walking up and down the beach with the Pyro for another hour, a thought suddenly struck him. I can't straight out accuse the BLU Spy of taking the Scout, but what if I corner him now? If the Soldier sees me gone, I'm dead meat, but it's a fair go if I do it now. The Pyro will understand. Or will he? She, I mean she. Or he. Strewth, that's not important. I need to see that damned Spy! He turned to the Pyro, who glanced up in surprise – or at least, that's what it could have been. "I'm going for a walk down thatta way," He pointed down the beach, to where the BLUs were searching a small sand ridge stretching out to the horizon. Pyro mmphfed in agreement, and doubled their search 'efforts'. Sniper took off at a jog, hoping the Soldier was busy looking elsewhere. He reached the sand ridge, climbed the worn surface up, and raced towards the BLUs. The BLU Scout had noticed, turned around and stopped still, preparing for an attack, when the Sniper waved to him in what he hoped was a friendly gesture. "Nah, mate, I don't want to start a fight! Where's ya Spy?" He called out. The Scout eased up, and pointed behind him, further down the ridge.

"I know what's on ya mind, and it ain't right. Our Spy's a good guy." The BLU Scout drawled emotionlessly, a thicker accent and deeper voice than the RED Scout.

The Sniper halted. "How d'ya know what I'm thinkin', mate?"

"I saw ya and your Demoman last night, and you pulled a cigarette butt out of your pocket. You were pretty angry and drunk, then, and started swearing about our Spy and the octopus. Ya threw it at me when you passed me in the general headquarters, before you were booted out. Threw water on my book, too, ya jerk."

"Book? When was this?"

It was after midnight. I was comin' back from the library."

"What were ya doin' in the library at midnight?" Sniper was surprised to find out this Scout was a book nerd – so unlike their own Scout.

"Lookin' up rumours. So we could find your RED Scout easier. Our Sniper was pretty shaken up about dat octopus appearin', and he was tellin' us ghost stories about a RED Medic that had to be deferred from his old station because he was takin' team members from both sides and... changin' 'em. Medical-like. I was just checking files in da archives to see if he was tellin' da truth."

"So what did ya Sniper have to say about them ghosts? Was it true?"

"There were some records of a Medic bein' replaced, at the Dustbowl, where our Sniper's from, but nothin' about da experimentin', he was only removed 'cause a popular demand, from both sides.. I didn't want to show him, though, he wasn't actin' too good." Book nerd or not, this Scout still had the same terrible sentence structuring skills as the RED Scout. "And he told me dat da octopus was one of the guys who da Medic took, and dat he used to know da guy, but he wasn't sure, 'cause he didn't see his face, ya see. But our Spy's in da clear, so you leave him alone." With this last remark, the BLU Scout thrust a finger in the Sniper's face, and the Sniper backed down.

"Okay, mate. I was just gonna ask 'im a few questions, is all. But if you're so sure, I'd like to talk to your Sniper when we get back to base. Is that alright?"

The Scout shrugged. "You'd better ask Head Honcho Lady."

"The Administrator?"

"Whatever. I'm gonna get back to searchin' for ya friend."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." The Sniper dipped his hat and turned back to the beach, kicking up sand in frustration. Back to square one. It was all up in the air again. And he had been so sure. He cast his gaze towards the definite lack of clouds in the sky. How close were they to finding the RED Scout, really?

And then his foot connected with solid air and he was falling down a metal chute, sand rushing past him. He connected with the floor with a solid clunk, his leg striking a rock hard enough to leave a colourful bruise, already forming when he rolled up his trouser leg to check. The metal reverberated, humming annoyingly, and sand fell down towards him as if he were in an hourglass, revealing rusted metal imprinted with the Mann Co. Logo and small rungs embedded in the chute wall. At least there was a way back up, once his leg stopping hurting so much and he got his breath back. What have I found? And have the BLUs found this yet? He wheezed momentarily, panting in an effort to get his breath back faster, rubbing his sore leg. He looked up at the sun, directly overhead.

A shadow crossed it momentarily, and was joined by another. "RED? Is tha'choo?" The BLU Scout's voice was joined by the BLU Heavy's.

"RED member, why are you in beach chimney? Are you hurt? Respawn does not work out here, leetle RED."

Beach chimney? "Is that what this thing's called?" He called back up.

"Da, is beach chimney. Leetle ones made for small animals in rocks and sand. Big ones? Heavy does not know."

"Can you get outta dere? Do ya need a rope?"

"Nah, I'm good, mate. There's a ladder here, just gimme a sec." He hoisted himself up the ladder, with as many 'oof's and 'ah, that hurts's as it took to get to the top, pulling himself over the edge to find the surface that the BLU Heavy had cleared away with massive, sweeping hands. The 'beach chimney' had definitely been installed some time ago, as there was a shoddily escavated hole with a slightly better installed metal surface that had survived most of the wear and tear from years of being covered by sand.

"We will tell other BLUs, and we will come back to leetle beach chimney. Leetle RED must tell other REDs of beach chimney. Could be important, da." The Heavy steered the inquisitive-looking BLU Scout away from the chimney, back to their group and waved the RED Sniper back to the beach. "Leetle RED and... two friends meet back here in... 30 minutes?" The Heavy held up 3 fingers to emphasise his point, figuring it would cover all the numbers he had spoken. The Sniper nodded and strode back to the beach, eyeing the sand ridge from a distance as he looked around for the Pyro.

When he couldn't find the strange little pyromancer, he approached the RED Soldier. "Where's the firebug, mate? He – uh, it was right here when I last checked."

"I don't know, private. And you get the same answer as the Heavy, who seems to have lost his Medic as well. Should be keeping an eye on your own teammates, wouldn't you think, private?" The Soldier growled. When the Sniper opened his mouth to speak, he interrupted him. "Demoted!"

"There's no rank below private!" The Sniper protested.

"Yes, there is. Latrine Duty. Now go find Private FireButt and finish the job!"

The Sniper groaned, turning to the RED Spy for help. "Have you seen the Pyro?"

"Non, mon ami. I would 'elp if I could, but I did not see where ze gentleman, er, ze, uhm – " The Sniper waved it off.

"Okay, thanks anyway, mate," He lowered his voice until the Soldier walked out of earshot. "I went for a talk with the BLU-shirts, and we found something called a beach chimney." He winced in recollection. The Spy noticed this, stubbing out his cigarette and leaning in to hear the gossip. "We dunno where it goes, but you, me and some BLUs are gonna check it out. Once we find 'FireButt', let's head over there to find out more, yeah?"

The Spy nodded. "Oui, oui. But 'ow do we know zis is not a dirty BLU trick? We could be ambushed and permanently down two more assassins. It would be a perfect chance, no?"

"We'll have to take the chance. Besides, respawn doesn't work out here, and I'm sure they don't wanna risk their necks any more than we do. And their Scout has read up on it, the kraken."

"Kraken? Merde..."

"Er, I mean the octopus."

"It was big enough to be ze Kraken, it is an 'orrible thought, monsieur. Do not worry about it. You are probably right. Let us go and find," The Spy snorted with immature laughter. "...Firebutt."

20 minutes later, the Pyro was still nowhere to be seen, and so the Sniper and the Spy found themselves back on the sand ridge, looking down the hole with the BLU Heavy and Medic.

"Leetle RED is back with friend! But only one?"

"The others wanted to keep searching," The Sniper lied.

"Ja, ja, zat is vell und good, and ve need to get back to searching as quvickly as possible, too."

"Oui. I shall go first." The RED Spy descended down the ladder, and motioned for them to move out of the sun to stop casting shadows, rolling the boulder away and cloaking.

"Zat alvays creeps me out."

"Yeah, I know the feeling mate. We call 'im Spook 'cause of it."

"Is gud name!" The BLU Heavy laughed. "Heavy will tell BLU Spy when we find leetle RED Scout!"

The laughter was cut short when an alarmingly loud French curse rang out of the beach chimney. "holy fuck!" The Sniper leapt down the ladder, closely followed by the Medic and the Heavy, and glanced into the space below the disturbed rock.

It appeared to be a cavern, filled with stalagmites and stalactites and dark, ominous water. The Sniper called out to the cloaked Spy. "Oi! Spook! Where are ya? Are you alright, mate?"

"Oui, oui, I am 'ere." The Spy sounded out of breath as he uncloaked, standing sopping wet on a ledge at the edge of the cavern. "Zat water is... freezing. Also, somezing touched my leg and I am not so secure in my thoughts of what it could 'ave been, thanks to you."

The Sniper looked down, alarmed. He was pretty sure something moved in the depths below, but he wasn't sure. It could have been paranoia, easy. He spotted a broken stalagmite he could stand on, and swung from the edge of the strangely circular hole to it, crouching down and looking around, motioning to the Medic to do the same.

" 'Eavy, I suggest you go back to ze ozzers, zis is not safe for a man of your size."

"But Doktor! Heavy is not leetle baby! Heavy is man!"

"Ja, Heavy, und zis is ze problem. Go back und vait for us."

Grumbling, the Heavy slowly threw himself up the ladder again, muttering under his breath and disappearing over the top. The Medic sighed. "Zat vas unnecessary. I am sorry."

The Sniper shook his head and began to make his way across stalagmites to the shore where the RED Spy waited, and the Medic swung himself down, following him. "No, that was bloody trustworthy of you, mate. Thanks for that."

"I haff no vish to risk Heavy's neck in zis small cave, nor do I vish to start a fight vith either of you. I suppose you do not mind?"

"Nah, not at all," The Sniper shrugged. "Oi Spook, what's that shiny stuff behind you?"

"Que?" The Spy looked around him, confused. "I see only rocks."

"On the ground." The Spy looked down, bent and retrieved a metallic object. "What is it? Pliers or something?"

"Oui, it is a pair of surgical pliers, no?"

The Sniper jumped down from the last stalagmite to join him. "That's weird. BLU, did you drop these here?"

"I haff not seen zis cave before, so it vas not me."

Sniper stepped around a large rock and jumped back in surprise, his boots splashing in the shallow pool of water. "What the fuck is all this doin' here?" He exclaimed loudly, his eyes alighting on the rest of the surgical toolkit hidden in plain sight. There was even an evil-looking chair with straps and bloodstains. The Medic walked up to it. "Oh god, mate, no offence, but you look so at home in here." The Medic had stooped down to investigate the bloodstains on the chair.

"These are very fresh." The Medic said in an icy tone, glaring at the Sniper.

"I'm sorry, it just slipped out. Wait, whaddya mean, fresh?"

"This blood was spilled minutes ago."

They all exchanged confused looks. "We 'ave been down 'ere for at least ten." The Spy stated. " 'Oos blood is it?"

The Sniper saw something move out of the corner of his eye – something in the water? He leaned over the murky black water, watching and waiting for something to stir. Again, just out of reach, something flashed quickly, catching the light. He reached for his kukri...

"Sniper! Look at zis! We have found – uhm..."

"Wha'? FIREBUG!" The Spy had jerked aside the curtain which had revealed the barely-moving lump of red fabric that was the Pyro. The Spy put an arm around the Pyro to hoist it to its feet, but the Pyro whimpered, sinking back to the ground. The Spy pulled away, his red sleeve soaked with blood.

Pebbles rattled on the opposite side of the chamber. Sniper spun around, kukri raised. Silence.

The Medic audibly unsheathed his Bonesaw, the metal grinding the still air. The Pyro whimpered again, breaking the silence as the Sniper scanned the faintly rippling water with an expert eye. Eventually, the Spy coughed.

"Err... per'aps it was ze wind?" He suggested. The Sniper lowered his knife and turned back to face the Medic.

"Wait, where's the saw?"

"Sniper?"

"I heard you take it out."

"Vat?"

A sheen sound sizzled in the air and then a sickening crunch. "Merde-" They spun as the RED Spy sank to his knees, his eyes glazing over, a polished bonesaw sticking out of his back. The Sniper turned on the Medic, eyes blazing, his kukri at the German's throat, ready to slit it, when the look of horror in the BLU Medic's eyes stopped him. Had they been focused on his own eyes, he would not have hesitated. The Sniper caught the reflection in those glasses and took a breath in surprise – how was that even possible?!

The BLU's glove caught at his vest, trying to pull him forward towards the exit as he glanced back. A RED glove reached for him out the corner of his eyes. He was jerked away, his boots splashing in the water, and something grasped them, throwing him off-balance, closer to a stalagmite. He dug his hands in and climbed out of the hole as fast as he could, throwing himself down the pier to warn the Soldier. He rushed up the beach and saw the Soldier deep in conversation with another RED.

"SOLDIER! SOLDIER!" He yelled, panting and waving his arms. The Soldier turned to him, revealing the brilliant white coat of the RED Medic. The Sniper stopped dead, wheezing and frowning. Could he have imagined it? He bent over, trying to catch his breath, and the Soldier thumped him on the back.

"What's wrong, maggot? The sun too much for you?" The Soldier chuckled.

"He could use a drink off vater, Herr Soldier." The RED Medic doffed his hat. "I can escort him..?"

"Nah, I'm alright, mate, I've got me canteen." The Sniper patted his back pocket. He just needed time to talk to the Soldier, and to convince him he was telling an abstract truth. "Soldier, can I talk to you?"

"Talk away, man."

"I meant... alone. Can I talk to you alone... please." His eyes darted from the Soldier to the Medic. He had been so sure. The Medic moved away, and the Sniper eyed him, searching. There, the bonesaw. In its sheath.

Wait, in its sheath?

The Soldier flicked him on the ear. "You had something to say, maggot?"

"Uh..."

"Speak, boy!"

"Never mind." The Sniper slunk away, confused. He sat down to rest on a pile of rocks by the pier as the Heavy dragged himself out of the shallow water, coming to a rest beside him.

"Has leetle Sniper seen Spook? Spook is not helping Soldier and leetle Soldier has big temper."

"Wha'? He hasn't come back?" So I didn't imagine it. "Heavy, I have something to tell you."

The RED Heavy was wringing out his vest and pulling seaweed out of his pockets. "Is leetle Sniper love interest, hmmm?"

"What? What!?"

The Heavy laughed. "Is that not question? It is always question in big movies! 'I have to tell you something, Brrrad..! I am loving you everyday since meeting..!' Is question every time!" The Heavy laughed again at his own falsetto impression of an adoring female. Sniper huffed.

"Never mind."

"Oh, come on! Heavy was playing leetle joke on Sniper. Heavy wants to know."

"No, it's not happening now."

"But why!?"

"Because," Sniper crossed his arms and looked off into the afternoon sun, baiting the 6-foot baby. "You're being mean."

The massive Russian flung himself over the stick-thin Aussie, wrestling him and shouting "TELL ME! TELL ME! TELL HEAVY WHAT YOU WILL SAY!"

Sniper had managed to get a leg up against the Heavy's chest when the bigger man slammed him against something white-hot. He yelped for mercy, which the Heavy gave, picking him up and dusting him off. "What was that, mate?" He searched the ground for the heat source.

"You tell Heavy secret now?"

"Wait a minute – what's this!" He kicked away some sand to find another opening in the sandy beach, only this time it was a metal lid with a handle, the uncovered parts burning in the afternoon sun. There was a clear inscription – Mann Co. Has also manufactured this. Why? "I'll tell you later, mate, let's check this out first."

Heavy offered him his beach towel and Sniper wrapped it around his hand, lifting the heavy lid just like he did with everything that was usually too heavy for a man that wasn't a trained mercenary – easily. Another cylindrical shape, identical to the one they had called a 'beach chimney' all the way across the beach. This one has much less sand and more wear-and-tear on the steps leading down. Frequently used and well-cleaned. It was also hidden incredibly well at the base of the pier, hiding anyone entering or exiting it from the other bodies on the beach. Sniper and Heavy exchanged looks. "Heavy will not fit down there, muscles too... manly. Leetle Sniper will, though!" He patted Sniper on the back.

"Thanks, mate." The Sniper rolled his eyes, concealing how butthurt he actually was about this comment. Snipers didn't get much exercise, for sure. His last girlfriend had told him to stop sitting around, telling him he was getting a 'flabby bum'. They had broken up soon after that, but mainly because he had been employed by Mann Co. Nothing to do with her or what she said. Nothing at all. He did work out, when he could, but the Scout usually took up all the time in the gym on the machines that he wanted to use. It was bloody irritating how the guy just knew which one he wanted to use. It was like it was deliberate.

He slapped himself in the face, the last of the depressing thoughts dissipating as the Heavy looked on, confused, then walked away. "You tell Heavy what secret is later, da? Or Heavy make sure tonight there is only dessert for Heavy." Sniper was relieved that the RED Heavy was quicker to catch on to the team members' needs than his counterpart. The BLU Heavy was an idiot, as far as he could tell. The BLU Medic must have his hands full trying to tame the bugger.

Sniper swung his legs into the tube, and folded himself under the pier so he could fit. He lowered himself in, his legs just touching the rungs when suddenly he heard someone crunching their way towards him across the sand. Heavy footsteps. Sounded like the soldier. He threw himself out, closed the lid and sat on it, crossed his legs and propped his elbows on his knees, his head on his hands, gazing stupidly at the water under the pier.

The Soldier's tin helmet 'donged' loudly against the pier as he bent to look at the ridiculous-looking Sniper. "What are you doing, maggot? Or should I say, what have you been doing?"

The Sniper accidentally let out a nervous giggle. He was cornered. "Wha'd'ya mean?" He gave a nervous grin to show how innocent he was. The Soldier harrumphed. And then said six terrifying words.

"The Spy wants to see you."

Sniper's grin fell off his face like butter off hot toast. "What? Where is he?"

"He just rolled up, lookin' scared, and asked for you." The Sniper leapt up and banged his head. "You don't have'ta hurry, he refuses to leave his car."

Sniper began to push past him, but the Soldier grabbed him by the arm, making eye contact through the helmet.

"There's only one way he could have gotten back to base and here again alone. Without taking the van. I know what happened, maggot. I know exactly what happened." He pushed the Sniper away from him, towards the crowd or REDs and BLUs forming around the van in the late afternoon sun. As he tromped up the dunes to reach it, he saw the RED Spy sitting in his red Mercedes-Benze, stiff and jittery-looking. It was strange to see him not dragging on a cigarette. The Sniper walked up and atpped on the window, startling the Frenchman out of his wits.

"Mon dieu! Sniper! You are alive!" He exclaimed when he calmed down.

" 'Course I bloody am. Can I sit in there with you?"

The Spy leaned over and unlocked the passenger-side door for him. "Of course, mon ami. Make yourself comfortable." The Sniper climbed in awkwardly, adjusting himself to sit in such a low-riding car.

He poked the Spy in the shoulder.

"What was zat for?" The Spy raised an eyebrow. "Oui, I am still alive. It appears zat ze respawn effect is still in action all ze way out 'ere. I died as I do in any ozzer match. I appeared in ze spawn area much confused, believe me."

"Do you know who did it?"

"I 'ave my suspicions. And if zey are correct, God 'elp us."

The Scout gently slipped the last slumbering tentacle off of his tail and even more gently swam towards the surface, leaving the hug-loving drunk Tentaspy to sleep. He crawled up the bank, back to the operating table, ignoring the effect the air instantly had upon his skin. His muscles flared in agony. What muscles? New muscles. Where were they?

Whoa.

The Medic hadn't been kidding.

He really did have the potential to get stronger – his muscles were way off the chart! He just needed exercise... He slipped back into the water and started exploring the aquatic part of the cave, his powerful tail smashing him into rocks on occasion. Eventually, his muscles screamed mercy again and his lungs ached, as if he needed even more air than his new gills were filtering for him. He surfaced under a metal platform with some metal rungs leading down to the rocky bank. There was a medical partition hiding behind a rock. He commando-crawled to it to push it aside, his tail scraping the rock.

"holy fuck!" A splash.

What was that!? He froze. It sounded like the Spy. His Spy. Well, it sounded French.

"Pssht! Boy!"

He whipped his head around. The RED Medic was standing behind him, over the RED Pyro's inanimate body, beckoning him forward. Scout sneered at him and climbed slowly back into the water.

"Oi, Spook! Where are ya?"

Scout nearly jumped out of his skin. The Sniper was here! His team was actually looking for him! He reached out to throw himself in the water again.

"Pssht!" Medic caught his attention, waving nonchalantly at his legs and then at the Scout's. The Scout mentally cursed, remembering the condition he was in. Would the Sniper recognise him? Would Spook kill him on sight? The Medic was waving at him again, moving his hands and pointing at the water. He wanted Scout to create a distraction. Scout slid into the water again, deliberately putting a grumpy face on for the Medic and kicked furiously. Somebody (presumably the Spy) was standing right at the edge of the bank, shaking himself like he was trying to dry off. Scout cast his eyes to where he had left the Tentaspy.

Gone. That was alarming.

He rose to the surface, hiding from the Spy behind a stalagmite.

"...Zat water is... freezing. Also, somezing touched my leg and I am not so secure my thoughts of what it could 'ave been, thanks to you." So the Tentaspy was awake and feeling playful, huh? Where was he? From his viewpoint, he could see a silhouette in the phosphorescence of the Medic, dragging the Pyro's body. What was with that? When he got a spare moment, he would get the Sniper to find the Medic, as long as the man stayed where he was... Taking a quick glance out from behind the rock, he saw the operating table, hidden in the darkness of the cave. Was the Medic hiding in there? He thought he could see the outline of the Pyro against the medical partition. There. A glimpse of the Medic. He had to tell them somehow. He pulled his dogtags from his neck and caught the phosphorescence, hitting the various surgical tools with the light, making them glint and gleam.

"Oi, Spook, what's that shiny stuff behind you?"

The Sniper was directly above his hiding place, making his way to the Spy. Pebbles fell off into the water where his boots kicked them, one bouncing off the Scout's head. He gave up the reflection act and backed up against the rock, sincerely wishing he still had his two normal, natural legs. He would just jump up and give the Sniper a great big, gay-ass hug, just for the hell of it. The BLU Medic's voice startled him out his thoughts.

"I haff not seen zis cave before, so it vas not me."

They were one colour off... if they only knew. They were all peering at the prep table, chatting amongst themselves. They would find the Pyro soon, hopefully, and figure it all out and make the Medic change him back. Wait, what was stopping him from telling them everything? He glimpsed the RED Medic making his way around the edge of the cave, out of sight of the other mercenaries. He pushed away from the stalagmite and cupped his hands round his mouth to yell out. Sniper was beginning to turn around to face him.

Two tentacles whipped out of the water, barely making a splash, wrapped around him and pulled him under. He saw the Sniper whip around, searching above him as the Tentaspy tried to drag him away from the surface.

"You idiot!" The Tentaspy snarled viciously, the tentacles wrapping around him even tighter as he kicked his powerful tail, furiously trying to warn the Sniper, who had turned back again. He had an idea, loosening in the tentacles, which responded gently, then changing direction and, with one kick, went spinning through the water to the edge of the cave. The tentacles chased after him, and he leapt at the surface, arm outstretched. His hand broke the surface and clasped the rocky ledge there, and a tentacle wrapped yet again around his tail and other arm and tugged. He dug his fingers in, only to find he had a handful or rocks, which, with his last second of freedom, he threw at the wall, where they bounced (hopefully noisily) back into the water with audible 'plop's. The Tentaspy dragged him mercilessly to the bottom of the cave, deeper than he had thought possible.

"Cretin! You almost fucked everyzing up, you stupid, brainless... T'es vraiment trop con..." Scout tuned out the Tentaspy, searching the surface so high up for a sign that the Sniper noticed. Nothing. The former BLU Spy had dissolved into an angry French fit, glaring angrily at the walls around him and muttering to himself, dragging the depressed Scout behind him. He swam circles around the pillars of rock, obviously trying to wear off the aggression that had just exploded, and the Scout tried to avoid smashing his skull open on the sheer rock without the use of any limbs. Eventually the Tentaspy slowed down, and his cursing became slightly more understandable, even though it was still rapid-fire French. Finally he brought the Scout up to face him, and gripped him by the shoulders, still breathing heavily.

Scout couldn't help but cringe. He looked terrifying when he was angry.

The Tentaspy's expression suddenly changed from angry to sad, and he pulled the Scout into a big hug. Scout couldn't get the image out of his mind that his shirtless chest was touching the Spy's shirtless chest. Did that make him gay? Did the Medic change his sexuality as well?

The Spy held him out at arm's length, examining him. "I am sorry for what 'as 'appened to you, and I understand what you are trying to do, but it is just zat if zey catch the Medic, he will not change us back. And only he knows how." He cocked his head to the side suddenly, as if listening for something. Scout thought he could hear something splashing the water somewhere. He looked up, hopeful, then back into the Spy's eyes. The Spy shook his head and released him. Scout's heart seemed to fall out of its place in his chest and sink into his stomach somewhere. He had lost his only chance. The Sniper didn't notice after all. They weren't going to come back. He wouldn't ever be human again.

The tentacles reached for him again, but not in any hurry. They were... hesitant, almost. Scout could feel the tears coming on when he realised the Spy wanted to hug him again. He nodded and the tentacles encircled him gently, followed by the Spy's arms. He didn't know how, but he began to cry into his shoulder, quietly at first, and then powerful sobs that came as a surprise even to him. The Spy just settled on the cave floor with him, holding him tight as if protecting him until he could breathe properly again. He pushed away from the other... man's oddly muscular chest and nodded his thanks. He wiped a hand across his nose and the Spy wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Zat... is disgusting."

Scout laughed. "Sorry, man." He wiped at his eyes out of habit and swam to the surface. He pulled himself up onto the ledge with the operating table and looked around to see if they had taken the Pyro. As it turned out, no. The medical partition had been pulled away and the RED Medic was kneeling over the Pyro, brandishing his bonesaw and talking gently to the Firebug, who was only moaning weakly in response. Scout was horrified. How could anything as adorable as the Pyro end up in this situation? The Pyro made him a batch of cookies whenever new supplies rolled in for the mercenary team. Pyro, the first one to start the party when they had an easy win. Pyro, who was the one to soothe him (even though he hadn't appreciated it at the time) when he had been dominated yet again by the BLU Engineer. He seemed to have a habit of finding out where the damn sentry was and then running right at it. Why couldn't the Medic just leave everyone alone? Pyro was perfect, a little bit madness, a little bit love. Whatever the Doc had planned, Scout would do anything to stop it. His limbs suddenly snapped into gear and he torpedoed himself out of the water and onto the shore, grabbing at the Medic, who quickly brushed him off to jab something in Pyro's arm, leaving them both there.

Scout's arm encircled Pyro as Pyro blearily looked him up and down, his fingers fluttering in a dreamy state. Scout shook when he saw the blood pooling below them both, the drag marks that led back to the shadows. He pulled out the needle, massaging the firebreather's arm, wishing and hoping that Pyro wouldn't hate him for what he was.

Instead, a latex hug enveloped him. It surprised him, but reprimanded himself. He didn't what the Pyro looked like. Was the Pyro giving him confidence? Support?