CHAPTER 2


And the Spies came out of the water.

But you're feeling so bad, 'cause you know.

But the Spies hide out in every corner.

But you can't touch them, no,

'Cause they're all Spies

They're all Spies.


Later that night, arms bandaged and clothes dry, Scout peered around at his team as they sat in a wide semicircle around a large, wheeled chalkboard. Soldier was at the front, armed with a long stick and a box of chalk as he told everyone what they were doing wrong as far as strategy. He insisted they go over battle plans three times a day. Scout just wished he believed in showering as often.

"Now, Engie, you were particularily sloppy when the enemy Spy flanked us. That was our downfall. We need you to be at the top of every overpass in order to keep an eye on their movements. And you, Demoman. We need you to Sticky every entrance to every underpass. No BLU would be brave enough to go over that old bridge in the west quarter, so we need to make sure everyone is in a good position to get to it in case of Ubercharge. In the event the enemy sees through our ploy and tries manuvering around the barricades at point A and D, we need to have backup at point G. That's you, Sniper. And we'll put Pyro behind you, to cover your back..."

Scout sighed and tuned the endless tirade out. The man had only been going on about the stupid BLUs for a half-hour. He would be glad when he was finally rid of them all.

He would... wouldn't he? Scout peered about at his fellow REDs and thought about his deal with the Cilophyte. Was he really willing to sacrifice them all just so he could go home?

He watched Sniper whisper something to Medic while pointing at Spy, and the two of them giggled quietly. Engineer scribbled something that looked like notes on whatever Soldier was saying but was probably just drawings, and beside him, Pyro flicked his silver lighter on and off, close to Scout's face, as though threatening to burn him.

They weren't that bad, really, Scout thought, watching the flame, it's glowing yellow light. Would the Cilophyte be able to catch him if he backed out of the deal? Or would it be able to get to the base, even with its slimy legs? Could it even walk on dry land? Could it walk at all? What if he managed to catch a lot of fish? Would it accept that, instead?

Scout was so lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice when Pyro touched the tiny flame to the edge of his hair, spilling out from beneath his hat.

He jerked back, but it was too late. His dirty blond hair caught quickly, and hardly even burned before curling into itself in a twist of black. There was thick, sour-smelling smoke, and the heat burned his skin. Instead of leaping to his aid as Pyro laughed gleefully and snapped the flame away, the rest of RED team, even the Medic, backed away, coughing with wrinkled noses at the smell. Scout had to waft the smoke away himself with his partially burnt hat.

No, he decided as the room emptied of people and filled with smoke. He didn't mind in the least if he never saw any of their stupid faces again.

.

.

.

Scout lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling above him. He was unable to sleep due to the mild burns decorating his cheek. Fucking Pyro.

In his mind, he thought about his home, the checkered kitchen floor and pastel appliances, the orange carpeting and pea-green walls in the living room, the hallway lined with picture after picture of him and his brothers, and the tree out back with the tire swing and treehouse. He remembered the time Sammy had dropped a spider on his head when he tried to climb up himself, and when Nathan and Michael had pushed him in the dirt when he has asked to play. They all liked to pick on him, because he was the youngest.

Why couldn't he ever stand up for himself? He asked himself that question almost every day. He guessed that was the true reason behind taking the job for Reliable Excavation Demolition, instead of the story about earning his own way in life that he'd fed his mother. He just wanted to become something other than a wimpy little pushover.

Clearly, it hadn't worked out the way he had hoped.

But feeding his team to a hungry Cilophyte was a step in the right direction, wasn't it? Wouldn't he finally be standing up or himself if he were doing it in order to get what he wanted?

...Would they welcome him back home?

Ony in the coldest, quietest, darkest black of night could Scout admit to himself that what he feared the most was that they wouldn't want him home. Would they send him back? Would they throw him out? Would he have been better off just letting that Cilophyte eat him?

Frustrated at the ratio of questions to answers, Scout sighed and kicked the blankets away, then got up. he could hardly sleep anyway, what with the loud snores, snorts and snuffles emenating from Soldier's class room, next door.

He went to the window. From his class room, he could see all the way to the beach where he'd been abducted by the Cilophyte. Staring out, he saw that the surface of the water was hidden by a deep fog, lying over the silvery sea like a thick mask.

Could the Cecaelia breathe air? If not, could they breathe it if it had enough moisture, like fog? Scout leaned his forehead against the glass as he stared across the horizon, wondering. Maybe they were like mermaids, and grew legs on dry land?

...But that was silly, he thought, shaking his head in wonder at his stupidity. Mermaids didn't exist.

But neither did Cecalia.

It struck Scout that maybe, just maybe, he'd made the whole thing up. it was possible that he'd fallen asleep while out on the beach, dreamed up the Cilophyte, and, upon waking up cold, wet and bleeding on the beach, had jumped to the conclusion that the tentacled thing had let him go, when really he'd just gotten caught in the tide. That was much more likely.

Just when Scout was turning to go back to bed, very much relieved, he caught sight of something.

A dark figure was on the beach.

Half submerged in the water, it's hair, curly, like the roman statues, shone in the silver moonlight. its fingers, longer than average and pointy, hung at its waist, just touching the water's surface.

The two yellow pinpricks that were its eyes were staring straight at the RED base.