( Author's note: aspects of this chapter have been toned-down in accordance with this site's rules about explicit sexual language; if you're desperate to see the un-edited version, it can be found at y-gallery, where my username is also Yaddie.

The drug BLU Spy uses is probably sodium pentothal, or a similar short-acting barbituate. )

Had he gone north, Scout would have eventually found himself on the same meandering pathway that eventually brought his teammates to the empty machine shop the night before. Scout wasn't following his map, though. He was following a person who knew the ins and outs of the local terrain, and had a good idea of which routes were booby-trapped. When he arrived at the edge of a dirt road, Scout peered down it in either direction, and saw no sign of his quarry.

"Fuck, how could he have got so far ahead?" As he tried to orient himself by the sun's first rays, Scout realized he might have to give up the chase and look at the map for directions. He stepped out of the undergrowth and immediately slipped in the mud, then tried to catch himself, yelping as his wounded arm gave out underneath him. More obscenities flew from the boy's mouth. He wondered if he should have taken a moment to ask for Medic's help before running off. Trying not to think about the dirt getting into that deep cut, he stopped to bind it with the tape from his right hand, still cursing. As he rose to his feet, something in the mud filled him with a flash of realization.

There were fresh footprints on the road that weren't his they were Andy's. They cut right across the wide, muddy roadway, and lead into the foliage on the other side. Scout was back on the trail in moments, and found himself stumbling down a steep incline, thick with creepers and roots that threatened to snag him every step of the way. There was blood on the foliage, too, dark red smears that belied the other scout's flight through the jungle. At the bottom of the hill, Scout came to a stop in a concrete-lined ditch, ankle-deep in mud and rotten leaves. He realized he was standing in a drainage channel. Handprints and blood on the low wall left a clear indication of which direction Andy had gone and logically, which direction the plantation was in.

Scout pursued.

When Spy's untimely demise was drawing near, and Scout's chase found him alone in dense jungle, daybreak had finally come to the island. The sun's light was not the only thing on the horizon. Packed into the third UH-1 Iroquois, the rest of the team was finally inbound.

Although he was wedged between Demoman and Pyro, Engineer had lost himself in thought as soon as they took off, and barely noticed his surroundings. Even Soldier shouting over the radio wasn't enough to garner his attention, and the older American himself loomed large in Engineer's mind. He was feeling divided, mentally replaying scenes from the past few days, over and over again.

Engineer shook his head, frowning. (This is nuts, I shouldn't even be worry about this! I'm a practical-minded man, not some silly starlet caught up in a romance movie. And Mundy doesn't care if I spend time around Sarge, anyhow... hell, it doesn't bother me when he goes out drinking with DeGroot, or tags along with the Doc' on some errand. It's not like we've exchanged rings or something, there's no contract forbidding either of us from having other close friends.) He pulled his goggles off and rubbed his eyes, sighing hoarsely. (...so why's it feel like I'm doing him wrong when I'm with Sarge? And why's being with Sarge feel so right? God knows, it's completely normal to be friends with someone, but have no interest in sleeping with them. I'm sure Sarge feels that way about me. And I... well, I can live with that, of course I can. I wouldn't want to ruin our friendship by trying to get closer than we already are.)

There were times that Engineer wished he could do to the rest of himself, what he had done to his right arm. Machines were so perfect, so reliable in the hands of a competent builder. He always knew how his creations would react in any circumstances, under any foreseeable stresses they might experience in the field. Even malfunctions were nothing more than logic puzzles to him deductions could be made, solutions tested through troubleshooting, and designs adapted to compensate for whatever had caused the problem in the first place.

(If I could understand myself could understand people like I do machines, this would be so much easier.) Still moping about his confusion and competing desires, Engineer looked around and discovered that sunrise was upon them. He glanced at his teammates. Pyro was turning an unlit flare between his fingers, while Demoman sucked morosely at a thermos of coffee. In the front of the helicopter, Soldier was doing his best to appropriate the radio console, which had done nothing to earn him the favor of the team's pilot.

"SIT DOWN and SHUT UP!" the pilot barked, shoving Soldier back into the passenger's seat. She was a husky woman of indeterminate age, clad in a red jumpsuit, her features obscured behind sunglasses and a crash helmet. "As long as you're in my aircraft, you'll do as I order you, merc!"

Soldier was adamant that he have access to the communications system, even if it meant leaning into the pilot's personal space. "I AM THE OFFICER IN COMMAND HERE! It is vital to our mission that I am capable of speaking with our men on the ground, at ANY TIME!"

"You want us to land in one piece or not? We've got no fucking forward air control, so make yourself useful and watch for trouble down there! And KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF THE CONSOLE!" The Huey was loud in and of itself, but the people in the front seat were louder, and Engineer wondered if their driver really needed any distractions right now. Soldier seemed to defer to her, though, at least for the moment, and sullenly turned his attention to the scenery below.

The island was looming larger before them as each moment passed, its lowlands clearly visible, its highlands shrouded in a steep pillar of clouds. Meteorology was not one of Engineer's areas of expertise, and he could only speculate how the weather might progress throughout the day ahead. (No rain, I hope.) Dense jungle covered every part of the rugged landscape that he could see; Engineer had read about the history of the region they were in, as well as the banana industry itself, but had been unable to glean much specifically referring to this island.

(About all I could find out is that it was purchased in the name of Zepheniah Mann, and the company ran it as a very successful plantation until the 1920's. I can only guess ownership of it has been shuffled onto his sons, since we're fighting over it now, but... well, there just don't seem to be anything noteworthy about it, besides electrical malfunctions being reported by passing ships and aircraft.) Engineer pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a long, deep breath. It was clear by now that, whether through corporate ignorance or deliberate action, the RED company had neglected to tell their mercenaries a lot of things about the place where they were now expected to fight. He looked towards the front of the aircraft again, where the pilot was shouting instructions to her passengers.

"LISTEN UP! We are landing in five minutes, people! Gather your shit and get ready to bail the moment we touch down! Got that? If you leave anything behind, I'm not flyin' back out here just for your convenience!"

Soldier turned to his teammates and barked, "You understand all that, maggots? GET UP AND GET READY TO MOVE! Our first goal is to locate the second team's Huey, and muster there to make further preparations! Any word from our other men on the ground?" He shifted his attention to the pilot, who was watching the treeline like a hawk.

"Negative! All quiet!"

When the canopy parted, they could see movement in the clearing beyond, human figures obscured by shrubs and pampas grass. Soldier and the pilot both started yelling, and the other passengers couldn't make head nor tail of what either had said. Engineer steadied himself as the aircraft descended, and when it came to rest, Pyro hauled the door open and the men spilled out into the clearing, lugging heavy packs of equipment. He saw Soldier clamber from the front seat, and raised his voice above the chopper's. "What'd y'all see coming in here? Where are they?"

To his surprise, Soldier dropped his crates on the ground and hefted his shotgun out for immediate use. "MEN, WE HAVE A COMBAT SITUATION OVER HERE! LOOK SHARP!" Without another word, Soldier charged off towards the people they had seen. The others traded uneasy glances, then scrambled to catch up with him as the Huey took off again.

The flowering bushes, cycads and razor-edged grasses in the clearing made for a less than clear view of the fight, but Engineer could hear shouting as he came closer. Nearby, Demoman swore and hissed through his teeth. "That's Heavy over there, ah'm sure of it! Steady, lads, there could be all manner o' dangers hidin' in the undergrowth..."

Pyro had grudgingly prepared his own shotgun for use, and seemed to be sticking close to his teammates. Up ahead, Soldier could be heard giving a bloodcurdling battle-scream, then a yell of surprise. "WHAT IN THE SAM HILL IS GOING ON HERE?"

Engineer felt a spark of panic in his heart and lunged forwards, only to find his feet entangled in bindweed. The others failed to notice his fall, and as he got to hands and knees, he saw something that alarmed him more than Soldier's yelling.

There was blood in the grass. A lot of blood. Someone was seated against a tree stump nearby, arms wrapped around his midsection, bleeding copiously. A tangled piece of equipment had fallen to the ground beside him, and Engineer recognized it immediately.

"Doc! Hey, Doc, you still with us? Your Medi-gun..." Engineer crawled over to the wounded man and reached out to support him with both hands. He was still breathing, albeit weakly, but his face was pale as death except where blood had poured from his bruised lips.

Medic lifted his eyes to regard Engineer; there was a bleary expression of relief in them. He said nothing, but gingerly lifted a hand to point at the Medi-gun. In the moment he did, Engineer spotted a sickening wave of motion from the place Medic had been clutching. The older gentleman's guts were slipping from his body in a bloody cascade.

The Texan managed a choked yelp of alarm, then pushed Medic down onto the ground and tried to stop the flow of escaping organs. Medic appeared to have been split from breast to underbelly, and not in a single, clean stroke someone had hacked the poor man open with brutal imprecision. It was difficult for Engineer to discern which parts he was really seeing, but clear that the best bet for his teammates's survival would be to stuff everything back in and fire up the Medi-gun. "Just- just hold 'em in there, Doc', hang on for me."

Although he couldn't muster more than a bubbly groan, Medic seemed well aware of his situation. He lay there and clutched at the wound, his body tensed up in agony, his face ashen and oddly serene, but streaked with tears of pain.

Engineer's heart was leaping in his throat as he pulled the lever on the Medi-gun, and discovered it still worked. He immediately turned its flow on the incapacitated doctor, and after several nerve-wracking moments of waiting, Medic started to show some improvement. A bit of the color returned to his face. More importantly, the bits of tissue and mangled flesh around his middle began weaving together as they assumed their intended formation. When he could finally lift his hands from his belly, Medic did just that, and gave a tremulous sigh.

"Herr Engineer... I don't know how you found me, but... well, zank you. I vould heff languished here a while longer before ze respawn caught me, I think." Medic didn't seem to be feeling quite feisty enough to sit up yet, but he reached over with a bloody, gloved hand, and gently patted Engineer's wrist.

Now that the crisis he found himself in had passed, Engineer could feel his mind easing down a few gears. All of the visceral sensations he'd been ignoring were acutely present once more, and from somewhere in the clearing nearby, he realized he could hear people talking. "Just doin' my job," he said shakily, slurring a little as saliva flooded his mouth. "Here, I- I know it's kinda' awkward, but you think you could hang onto that for a moment? The Medi-gun, I mean..."

Medic clumsily grasped the device as it was thrust into his hands, looking confused. "Ja, I think I am able to do zat much, now. Vhat are you-"

Engineer didn't have the time to explain as he turned away; he only made it a few steps before his legs gave out, forcing him to crouch down in plain sight as he was violently sick. It wasn't exactly the start to this mission that he'd been hoping for. (At least we're not under fire,) he thought ruefully, trying to banish the image of Medic's chopped-up innards from his mind. Visions of meat and tomato sauce haunted him each time he closed his eyes, which did nothing to alleviate his nausea. (Oh God, I don't think I can ever eat spaghetti again. Least not sausage )

While Engineer parted ways with his last meal, he heard his teammates approaching through the undergrowth. Heavy was among them; the big man was yelling for Medic, no doubt worried to know what had become of the team's doctor. Medic took a deep breath, then shouted weakly for the others. "Ve are over here!"

Out the corner of his eye, Engineer saw Heavy burst through the foliage, followed by Soldier, Demoman and Pyro. The Russian looked like he'd just wrestled a bear in a pit full of steak knives; every inch of exposed skin on his body was gouged and bleeding, and the rest of him had been liberally streaked in someone else's blood. Gruesome injuries usually didn't faze Engineer, but manually shoving chunks of viscera back into his teammate had exceeded his tolerance for gore, and he looked away with a faint groan.

"Doktor!" There was a hint of distress in Heavy's voice that belied his concern. "Vhen I see him chopping, I vas sure he killed you... Is safe now, Doktor. Ve finished him!"

"Dammit, someone explain to me just WHAT the HELL is GOING ON HERE!" Soldier demanded. The others muttered uneasily to one another, but it sounded like they would have to wait to hear the story.

Medic was regaining his strength as the moments passed; Engineer could hear him moving, shifting the Medi-gun's power supply over and pulling it onto his back. "I am glad for zat, my friend. You couldn't heff stopped to help me while he vas attacking you, anyhow... ach, it is fortunate Herr Engineer found me vhen he did, or I vould heff bled out."

"ARE YOU DEAF? I asked for a STATUS REPORT, you-Engie?" Mention of the Texan interrupted Soldier's train of thought, and it only took a moment for the rest of the team to locate him. "Good God, private! What's wrong with you?"

Engineer hadn't particularly wanted to be found hunched over a puddle of vomit, but there wasn't much he could do about it. "...must still be kinda' woozy from the trip here," he lied, feeling his ears burn with shame. The elbow-length crust of blood drying on his forearms told a different tale, but as Soldier helped him to his feet, the older American didn't ask for any details.

"Looks like we'll have to wait for those two before we plan our next move, anyway," Soldier sighed, and kept a steadying grasp on Engineer's shoulder while he fished a gray handkerchief out of his pocket. He pressed it into the mechanic's hand, sounding a little flustered as he added, "Here, uh... you can clean yourself off with this, Engie."

Behind them, Engineer heard Medic fussing over Heavy, who was urging the doctor to finish healing himself before worrying about anything else. With Soldier distracted, Demoman had taken up the slack in pressing the wounded men for some explanation. (Heavy must've seen the mess the Doc was in, too...) Struggling not to think about the hands-on surgery he had just performed, Engineer wiped the mess off his face, grateful for Soldier's support. "Thanks, Sarge," he said, smiling weakly. "Let's- let's see if they can at least tell us where the chopper is."

Once Medic was back on his feet, the newcomers collected the supplies they had brought on the morning flight, and everyone plodded over to the camouflaged Huey so they could discuss the situation further. Soldier was the most forthcoming with questions about what had happened, but neither Heavy nor Medic had a lot of answers for him. The one person who could have clarified things a little was Scout, and he was nowhere to be found.

Engineer busied himself with the construction of a dispenser for the group, and listened to Soldier stubbornly badger their teammates for information that they couldn't provide.

"How many vays can I repeat ze same story?" Medic snapped. "Shortly before you arrived, ze boy indicated ve had two intruders in ze area, and left in pursuit of them before I could ask him vhat he had seen. Ve heard shouting and gunfire, and found him being strangled by another young man. Herr Heavy repelled ze attacker, who fled, and ze only thing Scout said before chasing after him vas that he had shot someone. I-"

Soldier interrupted him. "And that was the big fat guy back there? The RED mercenary WE JUST KILLED?"

Everyone else fidgeted uncomfortably, looking unsure of what to do. The doctor glowered at Soldier. "Yes! I already told you, heff you even been listening? He vas already injured when he attacked me, but..." Medic trailed off for a moment, giving a troubled sigh. "But I am certain he had time to see ze color I am wearing. It is impossible that he vould heff mistaken us for ze enemy."

"Do ye suppose he was just angry at bein' shot?" Demoman asked.

"...reckon he wasn't too pleased about it," Engineer mumbled, grimacing. "That don't explain what he was doin' here in the first place, though. Now look. The only sure sign of BLU activity anyone's even seen here was that fella on the radio who took Sniper and Spy here. He mentioned spottin' a crashed BLU helicopter, not long before they were shot down themselves. Were there any survivors from that wreck? Maybe. But I don't think they'd be dressin' up in red just to screw with us. There's somethin' else going on here, somethin' that wasn't in our briefing."

Soldier was incredulous. "A gap in our intel? That's impossible! BLU agents dressing in our team colors, THAT'S the only reasonable explanation for what just happened! Keep your eyes peeled for more of them, men. Pyro, break out the spy-checking device!"

As Pyro whipped out his flame-thrower in eager anticipation, the others traded dubious glances. Engineer leaned against the new dispenser and cleared his throat, hoping he could push the team forwards sooner than let everyone get bogged down in pointless speculation. "Either way, we're not gonna get any answers by standin' around out here. The enemy's hidin' on this island, and I'm willing to bet their base of operations is someplace with a roof overhead. That'd put 'em in the main complex. They can't be guarding the whole thing, though so as long as we can secure one defensible building, we've got somewhere to start out."

"Ve heff no idea which routes are booby-trapped, Herr Engineer. Three of our men are already missing; ve cannot afford to lose any more to land-mines, or sentries, or... whatever might be out zere." Medic seemed loathe to consider the risk of traps, even though it was a valid point. Nonetheless, Soldier bristled at what he took to be a display of cowardice.

"If you're so scared of catching your frilly pink panties in a bear trap, then you can stay here, Fritz! REAL MEN HAVE NO FEAR OF DEATH AND DISMEMBERMENT! I say we take the shortest path to the plantation, and mount a direct assault! Who's with me?"

Demoman clapped a hand on Soldier's back, and smiled crookedly. "You're the closest we've got tae a Polish land-mine detector, mate. I'll follow ye there, how's that sound?"

Medic tried not to snicker, and failed. Before Soldier could slug one of his teammates or start yelling again, Engineer cut in. "Actually, I've got somethin' that just might work..."

Tinnitus wasn't a new experience for Sniper, after the time he'd spent working with Soldier and Demoman. Nor was having skinned knees, sore wrists, and a powerful desire to gut BLU Spy like a hare. As he dropped the body of his dead teammate and rose to his feet, he could see the masked man watching him warily, still holding the murderous object that had just claimed the RED spy's life.

"Dat's it, tête carré. We've gotta leave him and get moving." Spy slipped the handgun under his suit jacket and turned for the exit, exhaling cigarette smoke and a sigh.

Sniper wasn't letting go of the French rogue yet. (I can't believe I'm doing this,) he thought, feeling his body move as though it were miles away, or in the grips of severe inebriation. (I never liked you, you self-absorbed twat. Your work ethic was horrible, and it always seemed like you only spoke when you wanted to make someone else look stupid. And that thing you made me do, that was low, even for you. I never really felt like you'd made it up to me. ...but all of that's over now, isn't it? You're bloody-well dead. God help me, you even went out like a real man. I never liked you, but... this one's for you, mate.)

Spy probably took the marksman's plodding gait as a sign of emotional upset over the shooting. Maybe it even was. But when Sniper came up from behind him and took a roundhouse swing at his head, he was caught by surprise. The fist connected with his ear like a rocket, throwing him off-balance; as he staggered from the force of the blow, Sniper shoved him to the ground and sat on him, pinning his elbows under those dirty cowboy boots.

Grabbing the back of Spy's head, Sniper pushed him face-down into the swampy mess of rotten leaves on the floor. "Right, we're gonna be doin' things a bit differently from here on in. You don't need your weapons to sap the enemy's dangerous toys, so I think I'm gonna take 'em off your hands. Done enough bleedin'damage already." Sniper released Spy's head, freeing his hands so he could feel around under the Canadian's jacket.

Spy spat out a mouthful of muddy water, then snarled, "Are you fucking crazy? Look, even if I hated dat guy, I didn't kill him out of spite. He was fucking crippled! Calice de la putain-mère de tabernac!" He writhed under Sniper and tried to kick him, but to little effect. "Our advantage over a single opponent will be not'ing if I don't even have a goddamn sharp stick!"

Sniper was busy emptying Spy's pockets of lighters, cigarette packets, closed balisongs, and anything else that seemed like it might be some kind of secret spy weapon. He rapped his knuckles on the dome of that blue balaclava. "Sounds like a risk we'll hafta take, mate. Gonna turn ya over. Don't think of tryin' anything smart with me."

"I understand you're feeling pissed 'cause I killed your dance partner, but could you at least try to be sensible about dis? We have to cooperate right now, or we're bot' fucking dead!" Spy continued spouting objections as Sniper wrestled him onto his back, but the marksman ignored them. He was still unsure what their next step should be, but he knew didn't want Spy stabbing him in the back. It was a relief when the secret agent's struggle ebbed away to weak fidgeting.

"This handgun's a real beaut'. I'll be keepin' it safe for you, just so there's no hard feelings between us." Sniper had turned away to retrieve his pack when he noticed two surprising things.

The first made his heart twitch painfully, but was surprisingly a relief to him. While Sniper had been busy rolling the BLU Spy, his murdered teammate had vanished from the filthy little alcove they were in. It seemed there was a chance that they could be respawned, after all. He was so amazed that the second surprise caught him completely off guard. Something sharp jabbed into his thigh. Twisting back around, Sniper growled angrily and made a grab for the thing responsible: Spy had managed to stick him with a syringe, which was now emptied of its contents. (You cheating spook...)

The stench of garlic pervaded Sniper's senses, and his whole body sagged forwards, suddenly boneless as a sack of potatoes. Everything around him was slow-moving and hazy. Even reaching for Spy's throat seemed like an insurmountable task. As he lowered his hand, his arm felt as though it were dragging through water.

Spy was deadpan. "...dat should make you easier to work wit'. Get off me, you stupid asshole."

"Right," Sniper mumbled, feeling oddly compliant. He dragged himself up from the other man's chest, and leaned against the wall, still holding Spy's handgun. It occurred to him that something was very wrong, but keeping his mind on one thing was proving difficult. He felt too serenely intoxicated to worry about the situation. "So where're we going now?" he asked, suddenly at ease with the BLU agent's company.

"Now? You're gonna wait here 'til you smarten da fuck up. Give me back your weapons. You're probably too stoned to use dem anyways."

"Sure, you can have 'em..." The Australian reached down for his pack, then decided standing was too hard in his current state, and slouched down onto the dirty floor. He lazily pushed the bag of supplies towards Spy, then let his head loll forward against his collar. "Ahhh... Say, are you sorry for killin' the other spy? I- I just thought I ought to tell you, I never really liked that frog. He's a right bastard."

The only response from Spy was an absentminded grumble, and Sniper looked up again to see what he was doing, vaguely annoyed at the sense of being ignored. It looked like the Québécois had gathered up his belongings, and was preparing an electro-sapper for use. He glanced down at Sniper's rucksack for a moment, then sighed and moved it to the other side of the hall; he really had no desire to burden himself with the marksman's weapons after all.

Sniper wobbled backwards, landing on his ass in the muck. He asked, "Are you gonna fuck off 'n leave me, mate?"

"Dere's a couple of sentries on da main road. I'm gonna go shut dem down. Don't do anyt'ing stupid while I'm away." Spy frowned at his watch or was it his cloaking device? Sniper wasn't certain. "If you come to your senses before I'm back, just lay low and keep an eye out for trouble."

Something possessed Sniper to move, so he crawled over to Spy and grabbed onto the man's leg for support, oblivious to the grimy mess he was leaving on their clothes. The thought of being left alone disturbed him, and he tried to make conversation in the hope that it might compel Spy to stick around. "Did I ever tell you 'bout the time I got captured by the KKO? They thought I was a-a British agent, can you believe that? That bleedin' jungle had so many salties in it..."

Spy sighed and pushed him away. "On second t'ought, what I actually want is for you to lie down and take a nap. Don't talk to anyone. Don't move. Dat would be best for bot' of us."

"Oh... right, I'll do that." Still thinking foggily about the crocodile-infested rainforests of Borneo, Sniper flopped over onto the dead leaves that littered the old BLU base's exit. He watched Spy vanish into thin air, and wondered if the rogue would survive long enough to be back. The possibility he was on his own bubbled up in Sniper's mind, but only concerned him because it meant he'd have nobody to talk with.

"Bah, spies make for lousy company. I wish Engie was here. Rather be with him, anyhow." Thoughts of Engineer made him grin, and he rolled onto his back like a cat basking in the sun, suddenly filled with a very pleasant warmth. He reached a hand down to the crotch of his jeans, almost out of reflex, and started pawing himself through the fabric. Sex was something he could keep his mind focused on.

Sniper had never been a man with big plans for the future, which might have explained why he was working for RED in the first place. Tracking down notorious man-eaters in the bush had been mercenary work in and of itself, so what had sounded at first to be a life with more stability that is to say, a steady employer had turned out more violently unpredictable than killing animals for a living. Settling down wasn't a goal he had in mind, though. To him, it sounded more like something a man did when he was too worn-out and broken down to fight anymore. With his fourth decade on Earth drawing ever closer, Sniper still found himself planning his life no more than a few weeks ahead. He still didn't know what kind of future there could be for him and Engineer. He tried not to think about it.

It was easy to forget about those worries when he was with the Texan or fantasizing vividly about him, as the case may be. In the time Sniper had spent working and living with Engineer, he had found the man to be many-faceted and complex below his straight-shooting exterior. The extremes of Engineer's personality were almost always tempered by patience, though, and even before they had become close, Sniper felt warmer in his company.

He felt warmer now, just thinking about the feeling of Engineer's teeth on his throat. A longing sound escaped him as he dragged his thumbnail against the outline of his hardening length, then bent one knee so it could snake its way up into his pant leg. It wasn't exactly the first time he had ever rubbed one off through his trousers. "Tha's it," Sniper murmured. He felt as though the ground was rocking beneath him like a boat, sending waves of euphoria through his body.

Even when he was in his right mind, Sniper hadn't been able to settle on a word for his relationship with the other man. He'd had 'friends' before, and 'fuck-buddies', but this was something more. The term 'lovers' held connotations of harlequin novel hysterics that bothered Sniper, although in truth, he had little personal experience with sexual liaisons that went on longer than a single night. Most of his social interactions could be described as indifferent or selfish; Engineer was the exception for him, rather than the rule. Something about the soft-spoken polymath made Sniper want to try and open up, to be a nice guy for a change.

The blood seemed to have drained from Sniper's head. Engineer was shy, but not timid, and reminiscing about the things they'd done gave Sniper all the inspiration he could ever need. He applied some more friction to his hard-on and groaned, imagining the the weight of Engineer's embrace, the man's scent, the physical presence that filled his belly with a wonderful sort of heat and made his heart pound. Sniper could almost see the other man through half-open eyes; Engineer was like a mirage in his arms, almost tangible, but maddeningly absent each time he looked too close. In his delirious state, every sensation was overwhelmingly enjoyable, but nothing more than the pulse throbbing in his erection; he felt like it was as big as a skyscraper. He thought so too, for a moment, and chuckled moronically.

His excitement reached its peak, and everything around him seemed to explode. Sniper bucked his hips furiously as he came, seeing lights flash behind his eyelids, feeling each muscle in his body twitch as though electrified. For one mind-shattering moment, everything in Sniper's chaotic, often baffling world collapsed together and crystallized as a single perfect unit, an intricately-carved diamond that held all the answers to all the questions that plagued him. Then he passed out in the mud, and began to snore quietly.

Scout's journey to the plantation was much shorter than it seemed. Slogging through cold, mucky water and harassed by insects, he felt like he was on the worst nature hike ever. He heard sounds from time to time, rendered eerie and indistinct by the foliage around him, but Andy continued to elude him. (He got his hand blown off. Half his fucking arm! How the hell is that guy still alive? He should have bled out miles back there...) It occurred to Scout that he may have only been on this miserable trek for ten or fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours. (Maybe he made a fucking... whatever it's called. That thing where you tie off a bleeding stump or a snakebite or some shit.)

He spotted holes in the dirt, along the upper edge of the channel's concrete wall, and noticed with some confusion that there were crabs darting into them at his passing. As he squirmed between some thick branches that depended down into the trough from a tree overhead, a word surfaced in Scout's mind. (Mangrove.) He sighed, and tried to turn his attention back to the mission at hand. When the ditch suddenly became engulfed in a large culvert, Scout's sense of unease grew, but he also realized he must be getting close.

(Close to what? Andy? Unless I trip over him in the next minute, I've lost the fucker. Hopefully this comes out at the compound. There's buildings there. Maybe there's some supplies, or first aid kits, or... fuck, even food. I'm starving.) He could see greenery at the end of the tunnel, and daylight. This encouraged him to speed up, and on exiting, Scout found he was at the bottom of another filthy concrete pit. He didn't lose hope, though; a swamped ledge formed the landing for a sturdy-looking door, and beside it was a ladder up.

Scout pushed the door, and cursed when he discovered it wasn't budging. (Did he make it this far? Maybe the people he's working with are on the other side...) Noticing a bloodstained keypad set into the wall, Scout realized that this was the means to unlocking the door. Unfortunately, the entire panel was smudged with blood, so he had no way to determine what the pass-code was. Groaning in defeat, Scout turned to the ladder and set about the arduous task of dragging himself up out of the pit.

Open sky was visible through the trees, and Scout trudged towards that light, pushing through the undergrowth until he found he was in a courtyard, with buildings all around. A jarring crash spooked him, but it wasn't from anything nearby. Still feeling wary, he sidled along a blue-painted wall, then ducked into the first alcove that presented itself.

There was something in there, with him. Something human shaped.

Scout let out a startled scream and stumbled back, falling onto his butt.

The thing moved. First a slight shift of its weight, then a shudder, and then it suddenly sat up and half-turned to face Scout, smiling benignly. "Oh... g'day, mate. What're you doin' in here? I- I been waitin' for him ter come back, I thought you WERE him, but then I heard you yellin' and..."

Scout's new companion gave a muffled giggle and let his head loll back, Adam's apple jutting towards the ceiling. It was Sniper, who looked like he'd been rolling around in the muck; even his glasses were dirty. This was a matter of some consternation to Scout, but it didn't concern him nearly as much as the man's behavior did.

Scout stared. "You fuckin' stoned, man? What the fuck?"

A crooked, fanged grin was plastered to Sniper's long face, as well as a goodly quantity of dirty water. "Might be, he sorta' intec... interjec... he shot me wif something. Musta' been some of the reeeeeal good shit, mate, I- I can barely think about what's happening. Did you get bit by one of th'salties? You're bleedin'..."

"What the fuck is going on? This- this is the wrong fuckin' time to be riding the blue bus, you fuckin' hippy asshole! Snap out of it!" Scout scuttled over to his teammate and grabbed the Australian's muddy shoulder, then backhanded him so hard his aviators flew off. Sniper reeled a little, still smiling serenely, then reached down and grabbed Scout's wounded arm.

"C'mon, mate... lemme- lemme clean that off for yer..." Before Scout could find the right obscenities for the situation, Sniper was yanking off the filthy bandages that had covered the deep gash. The boy squirmed in pain.

"Fuck- motherfucker- fuckin' crazy asshole-"

"Gimme my rucksack, mate, gotta' still 'ave something in the first aid kit..." Once it was in arm's reach, Sniper grabbed his pack and pulled out the first aid kit, then pried it open. There was still some gauze inside, but it was a deep, unsanitary ochre colour that made Scout feel dubious for his safety. Undeterred by the material's discoloration, Sniper set the kit aside, then reached in his pack and took out a near-empty bottle of gin.

Scout forgot his words of objection to being intoxicated during a mission, and cheered up immediately. "Aw sweet, I could really fuckin' use a drink right now. Gimme that, chucklehead."

Instead of complying, Sniper gave a sad sigh. "This is it, mate. I'll miss you." He opened the bottle, then splashed Scout's wound with liquor. It took every iota of Scout's self-control to keep himself from screaming, and as the blinding pain faded into a more garden-variety agony, he glowered at the Australian.

"You coulda fuckin' warned me first, man! Aw, geeze... this is- this really sucks. Fuck. Wasting the last of the booze like tha- get that dirty fuckin' rag away from there! Don't touch it!"

"It's jus' iodine, mate, won't make your arm fall off." Sniper somehow managed to bind the wound despite his clumsy, drugged state, and tied the gauze tight around the boy's wrist. "There y'go, Cock Robin. All fixed up." Still smiling blearily, he leaned towards Scout and captured him in a muddy bear-hug, patting his blonde brush-cut with a filthy hand.

Scout shivered, and wrenched himself free from the older man's grasp, feeling his ears turn scarlet. "Woah, f-fuck!" he sputtered. "Gimme a little space over here, will ya? I ain't fucked in the head l-like you are, man!" As he tried to compose himself, Scout noticed that Sniper was staring off behind him; the marksman looked as though he'd just seen an old friend passing by. "Hey, are you even payin' attention to me?"

"Hi there," Sniper said, dreamily.

Then someone grabbed Scout from behind and clamped a hand over his mouth. He went rigid with alarm and began thrashing, while his teammate watched on in an imbecilic state of calm. Scout's captor began hissing in his ear, and after a few moments he started listening to what the man was saying.

"Just settle da fuck down. If I wanted you dead, I woulda stabbed you in da back. Got it?"

This didn't do much to ease Scout's worries, although he stopped struggling, and tried to turn his head to see who was there. A glimpse of blue fabric was visible out the corner of his eye. He gave a muffled yell and redoubled his efforts to break free, making a mental note to kick Sniper's ass for not helping in the least.

"Maudite, didn't I tell you to be still? If you want to last five minutes out dere, shut up and listen to me. Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but dis situation is more complicated dan what your bosses back at da RED company told you."

Mention of the RED company gave Scout pause, and he finally followed the mystery man's instructions. On being released, he scooted over near Sniper, and turned to face what he already knew to be a BLU spy. Scout was nevertheless feeling pretty irate, but he kept his voice low as he addressed their unlikely partner. "Are you the one who turned Mister 'Lone Wolf' here into a babbling moron?"

Spy huffed, venting cigarette smoke. "You t'ink I wanted to waste a shot of truth serum on him? He was gonna get us bot' killed, it was all I could do to make him cool off for a while. ...it's been about half an hour, he should come around soon. Now, tell me what you know about dis place."

"Look, none of this shit makes any sense to me now. I don't know what the fuck is going on." Scout gave a long, exasperated sigh, then rolled his eyes. "It's a fuckin' banana farm, they want us to keep you guys from controlling it. What's it to you?"

The Québécois was either feeling patient, or just had a good poker face- he was perfectly deadpan. "Not what your intel said, stupid; I already got da impression it was pretty fucking incomplete. Tell me what you've found out since coming here. Den, maybe I can fill you in on what I know."

Grudgingly, Scout recounted his experiences since landing on the island. He didn't like communicating with the enemy unless it was in shouted, four-letter words, but the things he had gone through so far today were making him anxious about their mission. As he spoke, Spy smoked and offered no interruptions, which was alright with Scout. He really liked talking.

"...so either he died and sank into the muck, or he got through that door and escaped. Fuckin' pussy. The keypad for the lock was covered in blood and shit, so I had ta give up on it and move on. Then I found Captain Kangaroo here, and... yeah, you know the rest."

Spy nodded, apparently deep in thought. As he mulled over Scout's story, the BLU agent picked a new cigarette from his case, and lit it off the old one. After a few moments, Scout got sick of waiting for him to speak, and started looking for ways to occupy the silence. He glanced at Sniper, who was looking a little off.

"Hey, so where's our Spy, man? I haven't seen him since I got here. He get himself killed or what?"

Sniper grimaced and rubbed his eyes, then started picking through the compost for something. "Y'could say that. He's dead, gone. Got blown up right here, actually. ...and saved me sorry hide in the process." The dizzy cheerfulness he exhibited when Scout first found him was fading, and Sniper was starting to look and sound more like his usual self.

(Man, he got into a bad fuckin' mood all of a sudden, didn't he? I usually see him like this when he has a hangover.) Scout rose to his feet and leaned against a wall, looking around impatiently for a sign that they would soon be on the move. "Good thing I showed up, huh? Otherwise it'd just be you and this piece of shit. What were you guys plannin' on doing here?"

Spy shot a rude gesture at the boy, but said nothing; he was still busy thinking. Sniper picked his aviators out of the dirt, then half-heartedly wiped them on his shirtfront. "Urgh, 'm tryin' to remember. ...there's a Soldier we've gotta' kill. And an Engineer. This frog says 'is team fought them on the island, two years ago. Now they've got themselves holed-up in the old estate, though it's " The sharpshooter stopped speaking and slouched forwards, scrabbling at the floor for support. He was looking a little green about the gills.

Scout was nonplussed. "Aw man, tell me you're not gonna' barf."

"...I might," Sniper croaked, then managed to pull himself together, breathing deeply as the moment passed. "Anyhow, it sounds like your little friend might've given us a clue as to why they're hell-bent on keepin' people off the island."

"Yeah... some sorta treasure or somethin'." As the conversation turned to the things Scout had overheard, he felt a little excited. (Treasure? Fuck, if we can kill those bums, it'll be ours! Then I'd just have to get out of this contract, and I could go back home and do whatever the fuck I want for the rest of my life!) The sound of Sniper's voice brought him back down to earth.

"Whatever's in there, I reckon our employers want their hands on it...bah, would've been nice of them to let us in on the plot beforehand, don't you think?" The Australian fished a crumpled packet of cigarettes from under his vest, then shook out one that seemed mostly intact and started hunting for some dry matches. At length, Spy took pity on him and offered a light. Then, the Canadian finally spoke.

"I have a good idea of which routes around da compound aren't mined, but... dis door da kid mentioned could be a safer way to infiltrate their base. Provided I can break in, of course. I'd been counting on da two men I saw being da only ones here; wit' more of dem to deal wit', we'll have to adjust our plans. Now..." He paused for a moment and frowned, counting off on his fingertips. "...from what you've said, it sounds like they're a few men short: da Spy, da Heavy- unless your pals weren't able to finish him off..."

"Their Demoman," Sniper interjected, his voice sounding weirdly choked.

"Oh yeah, da dead guy you found. He was probably part of their team, too. Anyhow, dat leaves dem wit' six men. If da Engineer is busy trying to break t'rough some door, and da Soldier is out on patrol, we're most likely to run into da other four guys." Spy shrugged mildly. "Assuming dey aren't all together, it should be simple to ambush dem and dispose of da bodies."

"So what're we waiting for? C'mon, let's go see if you can get that door open, Frenchie." Scout was eager to do anything but stand around, waiting for something to happen. He hauled Sniper to his feet, then started from the entryway where they had been hiding out. The other two men hurried after him, spitting curses and warnings about the danger they were in. "Keep yer pants on, I didn't run into nothin' the first time I headed this way."

"Yeah, and you weigh half what I do, mate. You'd hafta' really work to set off a landmine," Sniper drawled, and tried to claw some of the dirt off of himself. Scout wondered if the Australian's filthy condition was intentional- an act of camouflage- or if he'd just gotten carried away while he was drugged.

Despite the others' concerns, there were no traps in the undergrowth, and they soon found themselves at the locked door. Spy was quick to shoo the two REDs away so he could examine the keypad. After a few moments, he let out a weird little laugh. "And here I t'ought I'd have to break dis t'ing open. Look dere's blood smeared on all da keys, but it really stands out on a few of dem. See da fingerprints? I guess dey don't do a lot of hand-washing around here, everyone who's used dis t'ing must've left a layer of grime behind."

Scout squinted over Spy's shoulder to take a second look, but the older man was already mucking about with the panel, testing different combinations of the dirt-smudged keys. Just as he was starting to wonder if Spy had been bullshitting them, there was a faint 'click': the door unlocking.

Spy cloaked himself with a faint, electrical crackle.

"Woah- woah- don't you dare bail on us, you rotten, stinking-" Sniper drew his knife and got ready for a little of the old chop-chop, but a hoarse sigh reassured them the masked man was still there. He could be seen at this distance, if you looked closely, but anyone more than a few feet away would spot the others long before him.

"Did you forget da part where we're outnumbered, tête carré? I'm not gonna ditch you yet. Dis is just insurance. Now let's get in dere, before someone finds you chumps." The door opened seemingly of its own accord, and Scout could see wet footprints appear on the floor just inside. "If it makes you feel any safer, I'll lead da way."

"Don't like being your bloody decoy," Sniper growled, lowering his weapon. His eyes met Scout's for a moment, and they traded dismal looks, then followed the invisible man.