Hi, I am Sesh and it's been over two years since I uploaded anything to this site. Wow.
So, here's part one of what will probably be a very long fic. A relationship between the Spy-turned-Tentaspy and Sniper is definitely in the outline, but it's by no means the focus of the story. In the 60k words I have written so far, they haven't told each other they like-like each other yet. Although this story will probably most appeal to the Sniper/Spy fans, it's my hope that people who aren't in love with this pairing might like it too, but I can't make any promises. At all. For reasons.
Warnings (Please note that all of the following applies to the story as a whole, and not necessarily for this chapter in particular. I'll only warning once, unless something pops up in a future, as of yet unwritten chapter, that requires a new warning): An erratic writing/update schedule, a Tentaspy, body horror, fighting, non-permanent deaths, gore, hand-waved-away-science-y things, masturbation, and sex. Sometimes, it will contain several of those things happening at the same time! Unless you are reading this on ff.n, which you are, in which case you will not get to read the full sex or masturbation scenes due to site content restraints. When I post a chapter that originally had graphic content in it, I will let you know at the beginning and direct you to my tumblr or some other place.
Hopefully, none of that will scare you off, but I'd rather be upfront with you rather than surprise!squick you several chapters in.
ONE
Since the end of August, they have been moving to a new base each week, leaving New Mexico far behind as they travel further north and east. The moves are complicated by the almost daily battles: desperate attempts at land grabs, bombs to be pushed over enemy lines, and now, now Spy finds himself with his back flat against the wall, revolver drawn and at the ready as he peers into the room. The enemy's intelligence, carelessly stuffed inside a red briefcase, sits upon a desk where it was left after the alarm sounding his team's presence had been sounded. From his viewpoint, it looks completely clear.
He knows better than that. He is certain that it will not be unguarded. Even taking into account the other team's general lack of competence, he can not imagine it would ever be so easy. His last reconnaissance mission had led to the discovery of a new form of sentry the RED Engineer had in the works, and if he strains his ears, Spy can hear the machine quietly humming ahead. He thinks he has a good idea of what waits for him, if the design has not been changed since he last saw it, that is. A sentry built to have even sharper reaction times, and silent enough to lure unsuspecting enemies into a quick death before they can even realize what hit them.
Spy allows himself a brief moment to relish the smug pride that wells up inside him. There is no doubt in his mind that the RED Engineer had had to design a new sentry with his qualities in mind in order to stand a proper chance against him. It will no doubt pale in comparison to the real thing, but the thought is flattering nonetheless. Still, he regrets not having had the opportunity to sabotage the equipment when he first found it, having only had the chance to steal the blueprints before needing to make a quick escape. Flattery or not, he would much prefer it if the Engineer stuck with his old toys instead of testing the new ones on him mid-battle.
With a quick glance at the hallway behind him, he begins to move back until he is a few feet from the door. Out of earshot, he pulls his sapper from a pocket inside his jacket and cloaks himself. Even completely invisible, he still pauses once more at the door, putting only enough of himself through the entrance as to see into the other side of the room. Just as he expected, the Engineer sits on a folding chair behind the new sentry, his shotgun in hand. The sentry itself is compact, and similar in design to the basic sentries both Engineers can have up and running in moments, although the single barrel has been replaced with a minigun reminiscent of its upgraded form. On its top sits some sort of box, a red light in its center blinking steadily.
Spy frowns at it. The addition had not been depicted in the blueprints he had stolen, and there is no indication on the sentry of what it is capable of. Of course, he reasons, it could be nothing more than a bit of exposed machinery on the prototype, or a useless device meant to temporarily throw him and his teammates off. Behind him, the sounds of battle are growing nearer, and he hears distant shouts in addition to the gunfire and explosions outside. His window of opportunity is shrinking.
He pushes into the room, and has just enough time to register the sentry's gentle beep as it snaps its head around to meet him, just enough time to lunge forward onto the ground before the spot where he once stood is pummeled with bullets. He is still cloaked, and already it is turning to face him once more. He throws the sapper directly at the sentry, tumbling out of its range again. A single bullet manages to lodge itself in his upper arm before the machine sputters and dies, and he holds in a shout. It comes out in a long, drawn out hiss as he stands, switching the hand he holds his revolver in. He is not ambidextrous, but in a pinch like this, so close to his target, he knows he can make the shot. He needs just a moment to line it up correctly.
"Knew you wouldn't be able to resist it," the Engineer says, his tone and cocksure grin out of place on someone up against an invisible enemy. The man's shotgun is aimed directly at him, and Spy takes a long step to his right, adjusting his own aim as he does so. It wouldn't do for the Engineer to get in a lucky shot before he could land his own. His eyes widen as the Engineer's shotgun follows his movement, and he has to look down at himself to be certain his cloak has not faded.
He checks his watch: still working, though quickly running out of power. And in the brief lull of explosions outside, he hears rapidly approaching footsteps. He is running out of time now, too. He moves to the left again, then backward in shock as the Engineer's gun stays trained on him.
"Haven't noticed yet, have ya?" he says as he stands, grin widening. And that's when Spy finally does notice: the little box atop the broken sentry is still blinking, and has moved from its original position to point its red light at him. Spy's brow furrows as the realization hits him. He doubts it can see through his cloak, but if it can sense his body heat, or the vibrations in his footsteps...
"Did you think I wouldn't ever come up with something your sapper can't handle? Once I work out the last couple'a bugs, it'll be ready for the field. And I reckon you'll think twice before you come round with your little toys again."
Spy checks his watch. Eight, now seven percent of its power remains. He needs to make every second count. Spy grits his teeth and decloaks.
"Gotcha."
The Engineer centers his shotgun on Spy's chest, and several things happen in rapid succession.
Spy drops to a crouch as the Engineer fires, taking the shot in his shoulder, just above his other wound. He fires his revolver, the bullet shooting through the Engineer's neck and out the back of his skull. The Engineer collapses to the ground, and Spy drops his revolver to clutch his shoulder, the pain from the wounds beginning to spread like fire-
Fire, FIRE!
He feels the first lick of flames against his skin as the RED Pyro runs in, and he activates his watch, the last of its power being used to summon up a doppelganger that screams in agony as it drops, writhing on the floor in a vain attempt to put out the flames before succumbing to them. Spy suppresses a shudder as he maneuvers behind the Pyro, withdrawing his knife and plunging it into the Pyro's back. The wound is not as clean, not as steady as it would have been if he had used his right hand, but it is thankfully enough to drop his opponent.
The disguise activates around him instantly, the real Pyro's body fading away into nothing. Spy hears another person running towards him, and quickly reaches down to picks up the fallen flamethrower, completing his disguise.
"Oi," comes a voice behind him. He does not need to turn and face the man to know it's the RED Sniper, but he does so anyway: the Pyro would not ignore a teammate come to help. The Sniper scans the room, kukri drawn and gripped tightly in his hand.
"Is he dead?" he asks, nodding sharply at the still-burning corpse on the floor. "Really dead, I mean. He's not faking it?"
"Errf crrssh hiirssh," Spy mutters, praying the Sniper is not in a talkative mood. He kicks his doppelganger's corpse in the ribs for effect.
The Sniper does not look entirely convinced, so Spy huffs loudly. "Err chrrrkkd," he grumbles, shaking the flamethrower.
After appearing to consider this for a moment, the Sniper nods, his posture relaxing. "Good on ya, then."
"Errsh nrrrhn," he says with a shrug.
"You're mumbling again, mate. Speak up, will you?"
Spy rolls his eyes and gives him a thumbs up just as a blast from a rocket shakes the building. He runs to the door, turning at the waist to sweep the flamethrower from side to side. "Ahhrr klrrr," he says, waving the Sniper forward. "Lrrsh goh!"
"Right," the Sniper runs ahead of him, and despite the pain in his arm, worsened from being forced to hold the Pyro's flamethrower, Spy grins. The Sniper is thankfully making this easy for him. It only takes a second to catch up to the man, and another to drive the knife deep into the Sniper's spine, meeting little resistance as it slices through his vertebrae. He lets the Pyro's weapon clatter to the floor as the new disguise engulfs him. His fingers flex, itching to cradle his injuries. He fights the reflex and instead takes out a small radio.
"It's all clear," he says, leaning heavily against the wall. "Get in here and finish the job."
"It's about freakin' time," Scout grumbles through the radio, and Spy can hear his rapid footsteps approaching from a short distance away, coming out of hiding.
"If we knew you were gonna be this slow about it we might as well sent the frickin' Heavy," Scout says as he turns the corner to meet him. He stops as he passes, giving Spy a hard look. "Hey, man, you alright? You look like shit warmed over twice."
"How kind of you to say so," Spy growls, shaking his head. "I'll be fine after I find the Medic. Get going, before these imbeciles have a chance to respawn. The whole base will be crawling with REDs looking for you in seconds."
"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Whatever you say, man." He runs into the room and grabs the briefcase, another alarm sounding the instant it leaves the desk.
Scout pauses at the door, in as much as jogging in place can be considered pausing. "Hey, last I saw the doc, he was right in the middle'a things helpin' work the offense. Lay low if ya need to," he says, then sprints to the end of the hall, skidding as he turns the corner.
Spy checks his watch once more, and notes with satisfaction that it has nearly recharged. He hears rapid gunfire not too far away, then Scout's equally loud, mocking laughter.
"Yeah, real nice aim, chump!"
When the sound of gunshot in the building begins to fade, drawing away toward the main battlefield, Spy pushes off the wall and makes his way down the hallway, turning down an empty corridor. It's out of the way, and will take him down a much longer path before he makes it outside, but his odds of running into another member of the RED team will be next to nil. And even if he does, his disguise gives him a good excuse to take the path: neither team's Sniper is known for running headfirst into battle, but the RED is especially fond of taking back routes to get into position.
He is slow to reach the battlefield, but arrives without incident. Taking care to stay out of sight on the sidelines, Spy crosses into his team's territory. He finds his Medic hidden behind a half-collapsed shed, using it as a makeshift barricade while he tends to their Soldier. Medic holds his medigun awkwardly in one hand, balancing it on his hip, as his free hand uses a par of sharp-looking forceps to pull broken glass out of Soldier's chest in swift, and for Soldier, likely painful movements. Soldier spots him first, and immediately points his shotgun at him. Medic abandons his work to get a firm grasp on the medigun and positions himself behind Soldier, who begins to advance.
Spy raises both hands to his head, his right arm not reaching the same height as the other, and lets the disguise fall. "Some assistance, please, Medic."
Though the pair in front of him relax, Soldier still moves forward and scrutinizes him. Spy's expression sours, but he allows the examination, knowing there will be no chance he will be allowed near Medic without Soldier's confirmation. He is willing to waste these few seconds if it means avoiding another... incident with his occasionally trigger-happy teammate. When Soldier is convinced he is not a RED Spy, he grins and clasps him on his uninjured shoulder.
"Good work out there," he says. "This fight is as good as ours. We just need one more solid push to send them crying back to their mommas and we'll be able to take their intelligence back to our base where it belongs!"
"It was nothing," Spy replies with a grin that he can't keep from faltering.
Soldier may not notice the flicker of pain, but Medic does, and pushes him out of the way. "Yes, yes, thank him later," he says as he prods Spy's injuries. "Scorch marks and bullets? Just how many REDs did you run into down there?"
Before Spy can respond, Medic directs him to a wooden crate and pushes him down onto it. Turning to Soldier, he says, "In the unlikely event you do not die before the battle ends, stop by my office so I can remove the rest of that glass."
Soldier gives them both a salute, then with a wild shout, he leaves the cover of the shed, his rocket launcher sending him halfway across the battlefield in one powerful leap. Medic stares after him, lips pressed into a thin line.
"I don't know why I even bother," he grumbles. "As for you, take off your jacket. I want to remove that bullet before I close the wounds. Now, please."
"Is there really time for this?" Spy asks as he pulls his jacket off his shoulder. As soon as it is off, Medic is tugging at his shirt, ripping a larger hole in it to get better access to his injuries.
"I'm sorry, did you suddenly discover you are left-handed? No? Then unless you want to remain useless, yes, there is time for this," he says and jabs the forceps into the larger bullet wound, rooting around for the shotgun slug.
"Look at this mess," Medic says, ignoring Spy's pained shout. "I'm surprised your arm hasn't fallen clean off. Do you even realize how lucky you are that it's still attached?"
Spy winces as Medic makes no effort to soften the pain as he yanks the slug out of his shoulder. "I will be lucky to have an arm attached when you're finished with me."
"Don't sass me," Medic says, shaking the bloody forceps, and the slug in their grip, far too close to Spy's face for his liking. "I have been running back and forth over this battlefield all day trying to keep you dummkopfs from getting yourselves killed in new and inventive ways, all of which I would approve of, if we weren't -"
Spy pushes Medic's hand away with a light touch. "You misunderstand," he interrupts, a smile creeping upward on his features. "I only mean that I am lucky to be tended by someone so obviously skilled in his field. A lesser doctor would have no choice but to leave me worse off than I am now."
"Hmph. Save your flattery for someone who will believe it," he says, though the words lack any conviction. With another quick yank, he removes the sentry bullet from the smaller wound and tosses it over his shoulder. He drops the forceps back into his pocket and hoists his medigun into a proper grip, sealing the wounds.
"There, now was that so bad?"
Spy shrugs his shoulder in a broad circle, then begins redressing himself. "Medic, you are truly remarkable."
"Yes, yes, I -" he stops short as he hears their Demoman calling frantically for him. "I must go. Try not to undo all the work I've done too soon."
With that, he takes off, syringe gun at the ready as he runs along the edges of the field to his next patient. Spy cloaks himself and follows behind at a distance, keeping an eye on the doctor to ensure he makes it there without incident. When he is sure that Demoman is healed enough to keep both himself and Medic alive, Spy turns and runs back toward the enemy lines. From his new position on a platform atop a small hill, he scans the battlefield. As Soldier had predicted, the RED team is slowly falling back, their defenses beginning to crumble.
The power on his cloak waning, he makes his way to another wooden shack, this one holding up a little better than the last. After a quick look inside, he enters and crosses the small room to the window opposite him. Keeping his back to the wall, he decloaks and peers through the opening, the glass in the window long since shattered and fallen out of the frame.
A short distance ahead, Scout has become entangled in what looks to Spy to be a deadly game of tag as the RED Scout and Demoman chase him across the the rocky field, up onto the rooftops, back down and up again. From his vantage point, he can see Scout begin to slow down. The boy's speed and endurance is legendary, but it is likely that he has not had a single chance to catch his breath since he first made off with the briefcase. Now that he is being shot at by two opponents delighting in herding him back and forth across the battlefield, the chase is clearly starting to take its toll.
Spy bites his lip as he considers his options. Catching the RED Scout unawares will take more luck and time than he has, and with the Demoman launching himself in unpredictable patterns through the air with his stocky bombs, he will be an equally challenging target. Still, if either of the two downs Scout now, all of their work will have been for naught. He pulls his revolver out of a pocket in his jacket. He may not be able to stab them in the back, but a well-aimed shot could hinder their assault. At the very least, it could draw their attention away from Scout long enough for him to get away.
He only manages to take a half step outside before he sees the Demoman jerk in mid-air, then drop his sticky bomb launcher as his arms go slack. Spy is shocked only for a moment, until he spots the shaft of an arrow protruding from the man's skull. He laughs under his breath, then glances toward where he estimates Sniper to be. Spy doubts he can see the smile and nod he sends his way, but does so anyway, and makes a mental note to remind himself to thank the man later.
The RED Scout begins to chase Scout in an irregular zig-zagging manner that makes him a harder target for Sniper to hit, but also puts more distance between his target. Scout takes the opportunity to leap toward the ruins of a collapsed tower and duck down out of sight. With Scout safe for the time being, Spy searches for a more pressing target: the RED Medic.
The enemy Medic has positioned himself behind his Heavy, the two of them attempting to push through BLU's offense and regain lost ground. Spy doubts the two of them alone will be able to do much on their own - their Demoman will not respawn for several more minutes, and their Soldier is locked in combat too far away - but why give them even the slightest chance at victory? As Spy looks down at his watch to activate it, he spots a red laser sight moving up his stomach. He falls to the ground, scrambling to hide under the window and pressing his back tight against the wall beneath it when he gets there.
Glancing at the new bullet hole in the ground behind where he had just stood, he comes to a quick realization.
"Oh dear," he says to himself, grinning despite the pounding in his heart. "I've made him mad."
Mad, he thinks, is perhaps a bit of an understatement. Judging from the where the bullet had landed in the floorboards, the shot would not have been the Sniper's usual clean killing blow, but would have instead entered through his stomach to cause a painful, crippling injury. As he muses over the Sniper's apparent lack of the professionalism he so proudly claims to have - posturing, all of it, clearly - and considers that Medic may have been on to something when he called him lucky today, the Administrator's voice rings out across the battlefield.
"BLU Team has secured the intelligence. RED Team, that was pitiful," she says icily.
Spy unfurls himself and gives in to the temptation to stick his head through the window and smirk in the RED Sniper's direction. It doesn't matter that the Sniper likely isn't in his nest anymore, let alone still looking at him - in fact, Spy would prefer that no one see this little slip in his demeanor - he simply has to throw back the fact that the Sniper has failed once again today.
He stands and tries to dust off his suit, a bit of the smug pride fading into annoyance when the dirt and blood refuses to come off. He is just about to turn and join his team for an after-battle celebration, when he is jerked harshly backward by the neck. He feels the cord pull tight around his throat before he can see it, the tell-tale red distortion of air surrounding his counterpart as he decloaks. Spy's revolver clatters to the ground as he clutches at the cord, trying to dig his fingers beneath it.
He jabs his elbow backward into the ribs of the man behind him, then again once more, but despite the pained grunt he receives in response, the RED Spy's grip never falters. He feels his knees begin to shake and forces himself to swing around so that the RED Spy's back is now to the wall. With a last burst of strength, he rams himself backward, and there is a loud thud as the RED Spy is forced into the wall. Spy hears him gasp and curse as the wind is knocked out of him, his hold on the cord finally relaxing enough to Spy to work his fingers underneath it, to pull it far enough from his throat that he can suck in a loud, desperate breath, and oh.
Oh, it isn't fair, he thinks as he sees the cord for the first time before it is pulled back into place, ensnaring his fingers. It's not fair that the enemy's weapons can miraculously become useless upon losing a match, but a necktie, of all things, remains just as deadly. Too late he remembers his knife, but can't move his free hand in any meaningful way to reach it.
"Hold still," the RED Spy hisses, and Spy feels a quick prick at the base of his neck. "You're making this much more difficult than it needs to be."
Spy's legs buckle underneath him, his knees hitting the ground, tearing a new hole in his suit. The RED Spy loosens his grip enough for Spy's fingers to fall uselessly away from his neck, and when he lets go of the necktie entirely, the rest of him tumbles to the floor. Spy is aware enough to feel something prod under his jaw, and dimly wonders why his counterpart would bother to check his pulse as his vision blurs, then goes black.
I realize I've botched some game mechanics, though in my defense, when I wrote this chapter, I had only been playing the game for a couple months and wasn't as familiar with how all the weapons worked. If the properties of Spy's knife and/or watch ruined your immersion, I apologize. Let's just say he's trying out new/upgraded weapons, like the Engineer is. :| Also, this might have been bad of me, but I didn't have a specific map in mind while writing this. Some sort of mish-mash between Sawmill and Double Cross, I guess.
Apologies for the length of notes on this chapter. Subsequent chapters I will be much less chatty!
Reveiws are appreciated, as is constructive criticism. I can't guarantee how much I'd be able to change based on any concrit given, simply because I've written so much of the story already, but if there's anything that's very seriously wrong, I'd still like to know.