Hey, hey, hey! It's Fiiiiiivebucks! Well, this chapter was a pain in the behind to work on. Sorry it took so long, the very beginning got me stuck good for nearly two weeks to finish. But no excuses, I should have gotten this out sooner, sorry about that. On the bright side, it's the longest chapter so far! Doesn't read like it but eh, at least this story finally has a reason to be labeled as a horror story :P. I'm also sorry in advanced to what your about to read. Have fun :)
He ran. For how long, he couldn't tell. Minutes, days, centuries? It didn't matter. The only thing that did was his lead.
A machine. A well oiled and fine tuned machine. That was what he was. The rhythm of his legs, jolting once a foot pounded against the dead ground, would not be stopped. Not by the cringe induced grinding of his ankles' bones each time he hit the earth. Not the sharp, razor filled air that shredded his throat each time he swallowed that toxic air. Not the painful thumps of his dog tags against his chest.
He would not be caught again.
Caught? Caught by what? In this barren world he called home, he was alone. Wasn't he? The runner did not pause his gallop, but only tore his attention from that far horizon line and finally took in the plains he inhabited.
Desolate. He had heard that word before to describe places like this. Desolate, barren, empty.
Dead.
A dead world. Everything from the sky to the land was void of life. It was all shades of some dull, gray-blue. The dirt beneath him was broken, parched, and uneven. Mountains stood far, far in the distance. Too far to reach. And the sky; overcast with some horrid fog, heavy with moisture.
It was all so… empty. And so very, very quiet. The silence was deafening. He couldn't even hear his feet hitting the earth.
He had stopped. When had he stopped? Was there a point to running? He was alone. He was all alone.
Something. Something was happening. It was almost like a noise. But not quite. Like the echo of a whisper. He couldn't hear it, but he felt it.
A slow, guttural pulsation. An invisible tremor that he could feel all the way down to his bones. Like a dog whistle.
Only it grew. The land around him was filled with a low drone. A single note, but… not. It had layers upon layers that grew with its volume. More and more chords were struck. And it filled that dead land with a horrible, hateful scream. That once foggy sky morphed into monstrous pillars of clouds. His eyes widened in realization.
Like a frog in boiling water.
Run. Run, he had to run, he had to run and move, move and escape the shrieks and screams. Run! Why wasn't he running, move your legs! RUN, JUST GO.
RUN!
RUN!
RUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUN!
The screams were gaining on him. Wailing voices crying out, calling for him. Pleading to stay and help them. Do not leave them behind.
He stumbled, and the sound boomed. It shook the world and pierced his head, sending him to his knees. Pounding against his skull. Beating his skin and filling his lungs with splitting, deafening drones. It stilled and crashed down. It drew back before sprawling him against the dusty earth.
The howls and shrieks and screams rammed against the shaking runner. It was too much! The sound muffled. He stole a breath. And opened his eyes to watch the towering, endless wall of sound bear down on him.
He jolted, like being shocked by static electricity. But instead of energy, it was the sudden silence that made the runner jerk. The thunderous bellowing that buried itself into his ears and mind was gone, replaced by a thick quiet. Had he gone deaf from the blows?
And the world. The moment the wave had crashed down onto him, it had been swallowed by the darkness. It was so, so dark. So quiet.
He stared out into the void, motionless from the terror coursing through his body. His eyes were focused on something, and the longer he lay there staring, the more it seemed to engulf him. Static and blurs grew in the corners of his vision. And his eyes feel strained. It was almost painful. That wasn't right. He should do something about that. But the fear kept his eyes wide open. His vision grew even darker still, and his mind grew hazy. That darkness, he didn't want to look at it anymore. Go away. It wouldn't. So he blinked.
And the camper's ceiling faded into existence. The exhausted runner shot up in surprise, his soft, messy hair grazing the top. With wild eyes, Scout scanned the dark camper, his attention settling on the black silhouette of Sniper sleeping on a cushioned bench. It had just been a dream. A really ****ed up dream.
With a muffled plop, Scout fell back onto the mattress smiling in relief. A smile that dropped in an instant as he sat up again. The young man's face grew pale as he slipped off of the raised bed with silent, practiced movements. Standing low to the ground, Scout turned to look at his companion. There didn't seem to be any movement besides the rhythmic rise and fall of the marksman's chest. He was still asleep, and Scout needed to get out.
The only sound was the click of the door's handle as the slim figure slipped through into the cold night. Scout stood still. Then, he sprinted.
Away from the camper, away from the base, away from it all. He needed to be away, just in case. Just in case it was too late to do anything. Too late to get rid of that horrible feeling.
Scout's mind was drawn back to his dream. Every one of his nightmares had been different but all ended the same. Being chased, running as fast as he could. But it was pointless. He would be caught by something impossible to understand. It would throw him to the ground or surround him, grabbing his limbs and keeping him from escaping. After that, Scout could never remember what happened but it always made him wake up feeling like he'd eaten too much.
The trees grew denser and the runner stopped, his bare feet cold against the rough, coarse dirt. He should have grabbed his shoes, but there wasn't any time! He had been stuck in the van the entire day with Sniper, and the day before he'd only had thirty minutes. Thirty minutes that would have been suspicious if he hadn't found Sniper's hat as well.
But it was fine. Now, nothing could stop him from his routine.
Scout dropped to his hand and knees, attempting to quell the shakiness in his breaths. It would be fine, he'd done this before, over three times already, it would be fine. It was totally safe, it would keep him safe, no reason to get so worked up. He took a deep breath and held it while feeling his pounding pulse slow. Then, with resolve, Scout jammed a finger down his throat.
A gross gagging filled the forest, followed by a soft string of curses. Nothing came up. Scout did it again, harder. Still nothing. Nothing but a bruised throat and only a hint of bile. His pulse shot straight back up. Was he too late? No, nonono, no! No! He couldn't be! But it wasn't working, he couldn't throw up. And the rain wasn't here anymore, Scout couldn't be sure. There was nothing to prove that...
It was all impulse. One moment he was sat up then the next he was doubled over, coughing and heaving from the solid blow to his gut. His insides felt bruised and churned and the taste of bile singed his throat. Scout clenched his fist again and rammed it into his stomach once more.
And the forest floor was soon covered with vomit and stomach acid. Three times, four times Scout punched himself until nothing came back up. Until the young runner was nothing but a trembling mess dry heaving deep in the trees, leaning on his damaged stump to avoid crashing down on the rancid mess below.
His left arm, what was left of it, was crying in protest of being used as a crutch. But Scout didn't care if it hurt, he felt better. Way better. The gentle lure of sleep dragged down his eyelids and the man stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his only hand. His footing was unsure and the world seemed to spin. There was a buzzing in his head that seemed to ebb and flow but he felt so much better. He was empty, and safe.
Stumbling back, Scout guided himself over to the van. There was no light inside which meant Sniper was still asleep. After waiting for his vision to return when the darkness in the corner of his eyes swallowed the world, Scout entered the camper van. As silent as a mouse, he crept over to the bed and climbed back in it. As the slightly scratchy covers were wrapped around him, the runner let his spinning head and pure exhaustion steal his consciousness away.
"All set?" Sniper asked his shorter companion. Scout didn't bother with words, only responding with a curt nod. "Awright, don't get too excited."
The two of them stood outside the BLU Base, prepared for the task of restarting the large building's generators. Well, he was prepared, Scout was a wild card who, it seemed, had gotten a pair of cold feet last night. It had taken Sniper the better half of an hour to both wake Scout up and convince him to actually join the marksman in the energy quest. Convincing that ended up as an insult war. And that ornery attitude Scout woke up with rubbed off on him and now neither was too pleased with their situation. Didn't help that the sunny weather from yesterday was about to be overturned. The distant mountains of rain clouds slowly parading towards them was proof enough. Despite everything, they still couldn't outdrive the rain.
"Ya got your torch taped on yet?" A loud, raspy groan met Sniper's ears followed by the instinct to do the same.
"How many freakin' times do I gotta tell you, old man, it's called a flashlight!" Scout growled as he wound the final piece of duct tape around his left arm. It had been the kid's idea to tape a torch to his arm so that he wouldn't have his hand full. And Sniper had to admit, it was a pretty good idea. Not out loud though, because Scout was still being an *rse. Sighing through his nose, Sniper hitched the backpack filled with tools on his shoulders up. The bloody thing was always sliding down.
"And Oi've told you that we're splitting up jus' as much but you don't want to listen either."
"Because splittin' up is stupid!" The very mention of parting made Scout pause his shoe tying to glare Sniper down. "Everybody with a brain knows you never split up, especially in a dark maze with no way ta communicate. I don't have my headset, remember? Doubt you still got your earpiece too."
"We'll still be in the bloody base, it's not like Oi'll be down in South America!"
"Doesn't matter!"
"Look," Sniper grumbled, "do you want to regroup with Miss Pauling or not?" Scout shifted with clear discomfort.
"Well, yeah-"
"So then whoi are you complaining so much!?"
"Cause if we get da generators up and runnin' there ain't a point for me ta go scavenger huntin' for food and weapons!"
"If Oi can get the generators running. And like you said yesterday, you know more about the base than Oi do, so you'll be much faster in grabbing things. If Oi can't get the junk to run, then Oi'll scavenge too." The apprehension was still heavy in the kid's stormy eyes and Sniper was losing his patience. "Whoi are ya even arguing with me on this? Whot's got you so bloody scared?"
"I ain't scared!"
"Sure, and Oi'm the Queen of England."
"There's a freakin' difference between bein' scared and bein' smart." Scout retorted, glaring at the cabin's wooden door. "I don't freakin' trust it. Dat we'll be alone down there."
"Are you seriously still paranoid about being hunted by a monster?"
"It ain't paranoid if it's real!"
"Have you seen this thing since we left Sawmill?" Scout began biting his lip, thoughts and emotions flashing across his face. "You haven't, have you?"
"Look, can't we just stick together?" Scout whined. He even used some puppy eyes to double his odds of changing Sniper's mind. Too bad it wasn't very effective.
"No."
"Come on, man!"
"Hm, and here Oi was thinking that you were the Scout from the BLU team, not the yellow one." A small jab to Scout's ego was really all it took. Would he be hated for the rest of the day? Yes. Would he have to deal with an even more ornery Scout? Most definitely. But would it get the stubborn kid to move? Well, from the grumbling and middle finger shot his way, the outcome didn't seem likely. Until Scout stomped up to the wooden door and threw it open while snarling "If you get your sorry *ss in trouble, don't expect me ta go outta my way ta save it."
"Wouldn't expect anything else."
The moment Scout stepped into the cabin, he knew something was going to be wrong. He always had a sixth sense for danger, maybe all his team and friends had it. But his was no doubt the strongest if Sniper's lack of apprehension when entering was anything to go by. It was something you needed to survive in the old crooked slums of South Boston. Whether it was to find out where and when fights would break out to make it there first or to know when his oldest brother was looking for a punching bag after a rough day so he had time to hide or escape, a good gut feeling helped Scout in more ways than one. Even on the battlefield his sense was basically a fourth part of his arsenal. So when that familiar prickling feeling at the back of his head picked up, Scout knew better than to brush it aside.
The small building was dark. Too dark, darkness caused from a lack of both light and windows. Small plaid curtains covered the tiny windows leaving only the slimmest of sunbeams through. There was no furniture or other rooms. Smack dab in the middle of the supposed back wall stood a metal double door. So much for subtlety of being just an old cottage. And the smell. Like the apartment Scout lived in with his family when he was eight, which could only be described as a wet dog that dried and rolled in a good heaping pile of powdered bleach. The smell was sharp and made Scout squint.
"Are ya jus' going to stand there or whot?" The gruff accent pierced Scout's thoughts. Snapping his gaze towards Sniper, he spotted the older man standing at the two double doors with a hand on the handle.
Scout resisted the urge to flip him off as he joined Sniper's side. A nod, and, with some effort, Sniper pulled the doors open. And that sixth sense began blaring in alarm at the sight. Or lack there off.
Darkness, like a thick fog, seeped in the cabin. Scout waved a hand in front of his face, trying to dispel the unwanted blindness, before realizing that it wasn't going to work. Sniper raised his flashlight up and with a click, the blackness was pushed back. Scout followed his companion's lead and raised his arm to ignite his own.
Before them stood a staircase. It was a plain old staircase made of metal and steel railings. On the grey concrete wall was painted the parallel lines of familiar blue. Above those rested the painted "Builders League United". Scout had walked down and up these steps countless times so fear wasn't the reason why he suddenly started shivering. It was the sudden chill that entered the room once the doors had opened.
"Holy crap, why's it so freakin' cold!?" He gasped. Sniper had also been surprised by the cold blast, as he was holding himself much more tightly than before.
"Oi bloody forgot. The heating won't be working either without energy." The Australian scratched his chin in thought. "Awright, you go on ahead. Oi'll go back to fetch some jackets."
"Wha-" Scout started. Was he serious? "Are you serious!? First you called me a coward for not wantin' ta go and now you get ta bail out!?"
"Oi actually plan to come back, which Oi can't be sure you would." Sniper began walking towards the door.
"But you told me dat you didn't have anything other than da raincoat! When I was freezin' my *ss off after pushin' da van, remember!?"
"Oi thought ya were talking about long sleeve shirts. Oi have jackets, they're in a box Oi keep in one of the cupboards. Now get going!" And with that, Sniper closed the door.
Scout stood there for a moment, standing and staring at the door and completely stunned at the absolute audacity to just leave him there alone to face the darkness. But the guy would get pissy if Scout wasn't at the bottom of the staircase when he was done. So, down the staircase he would go. A couple steps forward and the runner began his descent.
The deeper Scout went, the colder it got. As the metal clangs of his footsteps echoed down the staircase, he could see his breath begin to form a white mist. Soon enough his teeth began to chatter, the only other noise beside the electric hum of his flashlight and jarring steps.
Deeper and deeper the staircase led. Or was it growing? He didn't remember it lasting this long. And despite the high powered beam of his light, it couldn't show the end. If there even was an ending to this descent. There was an ending, course there was! It was the first Main Hallway. Scout was probably just ten steps from the bottom, no need to be so nervous.
...Alright, maybe it was another ten steps. Only another ten steps came and went and Scout was still going down. Was he even moving? He turned to look behind him and saw only steps.
Okay. Yeah, okay, this was fine. The staircase was just super long, no big deal. Just because Scout couldn't see the beginning or end doesn't mean that they weren't there. Yeah, he just needed to keep going, Sniper will be back any second and Scout'll hear him coming down because of how loud the metal steps are. Yeah, just keep going. Don't imagine something waiting for you at the bottom. Don't, don't do that. There's nothing. Nothing that will grab him and pin him to the ground unable to breathe and rip him apart, totally. Yeah, he was totally alone down here, just a couple more steps. Just a few more, he could do this. He killed people for a living, he could handle a dark staircase! Yeah, Scout was fine. Completely alone and fine.
...but just in case he should probably go a little faster. Just in case there was also something behind him that wasn't Sniper. Yup, just picking up the pace, nothing wrong with that, Sniper wanted them to be quick so that's what Scout would be. Quick and quickly jogging down the steps.
Why couldn't this base just have an elevator? Actually, if he got stuck in one and there was something hunting him down, Scout would be a sitting duck. Yeah, no dice, stairs it was-
"What th-'' his surprise was cut off by the sudden impact of a solid floor. And Scout was going too fast to stop his fall. With a painful "oof!", Scout slipped on a thick layer of dust and landed flat on his back. The loud slam as a result echoed through the large room.
Groaning and coughing from the dust clouds his landing made, Scout sat up. Ohh boy, he'd be feeling this tomorrow, that's for d*mn sure! The runner with a now throbbing head and tailbone raised his arm to shed some light.
Scout was sitting on the Main Hall's floor. It had to be the Main Hall, rooms don't just switch around just because you weren't looking. But it felt that way. Because as Scout shone his light across the walls and deep corridor, he couldn't understand what he was looking at.
A cave was the only image that popped into Scout's head. The walls were grimy and cold. From what Scout could see of them, at least. On the curved border between light and shadow on the walls, if he stared for long enough, he would see the concrete begin to shift and move, as if covered in a thousand bugs or made of T.V. static. But then he'd flick the beam over the patch he was staring at and see nothing but the faint bluish building.
Where there wasn't a wall, there was deep blackness that led to other parts of the base, whether up or down. It was all identical, so much so that even the painted directions, arrows, and signs did little to actually differentiate from the many passages. And who knew if there would be something waiting to ambush them when they started their quest of energy. Ugh, he hated this base. He got to his feet, shivering and covered in dust bunnies. It was so cold down here! Goosebumps were already ravaging his arms and legs. At least it wasn't moist and dripping like an actual cave, not that the thought brought much comfort. What was one less s****y thing in a goldmine of s***iness? Sniper better get his bony *ss down here soon.
What was taking that Aussie so long? How long does it take to grab some d*mn coats!? It was honestly stupid. And kinda worrying. Just a little, that Sniper wasn't back already. He was probably just trying to find one that was Scout's size, or close to his size. Maybe he got distracted by something, or forgot something he would need down here. Yeah. Scout just needed to be patient. There was nothing else down here with him. Probably.
Except for bugs, of course. As Scout stood waiting for his teammate to join him, there was a ticklish sensation on his left leg. He bent down to scratch it- oh for ****'s sake, he reached with his right arm, forcing himself to twist uncomfortably, and felt something smooth. Like a polished rock, only it moved.
Whipping the light downward, Scout saw the fiend. Sitting there on his calf, and waving its gross antennas around, was one of the biggest cockroaches he'd ever seen. It had to be at least as long as his middle finger. It opened its back a bit to show its pair of disgusting see-through wings and jumped straight towards Scout's face.
The impossibly loud and high pitched shriek that filled the base, drowning out all other noise, included the distinct sound of metal being bent out of place. Deep in the coniferous forest above the base, stood what appeared to be a storm cellar. A storm cellar that had a blast door instead of a heavy wooden one. And that blast door was currently being dented and slammed against by something that desperately wanted in.
The abuse that the steel entrance took was wearing it down. And with one last ear piercing screech, the steel was bent completely out of shape, leaving a narrow hole between the heavy doors. Silence for a moment, before two appendages reached in and grabbed the sides. And the doors were ripped open for all to use.
"Bloody h*ll, will ya stop screaming!?" Sniper bellowed. The panic Scout felt faded instantly once he heard the annoyed gravelly voice of his companion. Looking up from the concrete ground where Scout had been trying to crush the roach before it disappeared, he met the eyes of Sniper who was currently standing at the base of the staircase wearing a thick blue fleece. How had he not heard him come down?
"Because you were screaming so d*mn loud." The Australian growled as he made his way towards Scout. Had he said that last part out loud? Guess so.
"What took you so long!?"
"Oi made a list of things you should look for." Sniper handed a piece of paper over to Scout. The handwriting was sharp and tilted. Small too. He squinted to read the tiny words.
"-weapons, clothing, he- headpie? Headpeas? Da h*ll are headpeas?"
"Headpieces." Sniper explained as a jacket was thrown Scout's way. With his only hand full of paper, Scout was unable to prevent a mouthful of clothing. Sputtering, he slipped the list into his pocket and grabbed the coat. It was a thick navy hoodie, one that, as Scout slipped it on, instantly made his goosebumps disappear. Sniper whistled, staring up and around the shadow filled passage.
"Man, Oi forgot how dingy this base was."
"It'll only get worse from here," Scout grumbled, once again attempting to read the list-
"Whot made you scream so bloody loud?" Any and all attempt to read was in vain as Scout's face began to burn up.
"A roach."
"A roach!?" The marksman didn't even try to hide the humor in his voice. Scout snapped his eyes up to glare at Sniper.
"You didn't see it! It was as big as my ****ing face! And it tried ta suck out my eyes!"
"Suuure, Mate." Sniper grinned as he began walking deeper into the compound, leaving Scout to catch up. Their footsteps echoed down the empty corridor. "Didn't know you were scared of bugs too."
"Let's see you keep your stupid mouth shut when a foot long cockroach jumps at your face ta murder ya!"
"Awright, Oi was jus' teasing. Now, which way are the generators?" The marksman paused at the corridor's end, looking back and forth at the faded signs his flashlight lit up. Scout looked over his friend's shoulder. The signs were above two identical doorways, one left and one right. Squinting at the faded words, Scout could just barely make out an "ARM" above the left and a "SE OOR" above the right entrance. Arm… army? Armory! And the second was obviously Second Floor.
"Think it's dat one," Scout pointed towards the right passage with his lighting arm, "usually da important stuff would be at da bottom of da base, cause, y'know, any guys tryin' ta get in and do damage would have ta go through everything just ta destroy some generators. There's a staircase dat goes straight down ta da ground floor, you'll probably find it down there."
"Right," Sniper hitched his backpack up, "Oi'm guessing you're going the opposite direction?"
Scout nodded after a moment. "Yeah, I gotta get some of our weapons, it was on da list ya made." While his voice was nonchalant, his eyes were tense and flicked around to look at everything except Sniper.
"Hey," Sniper grabbed Scout's shoulder, "there's nothing else here, it's jus' the two of us and some bugs. No need to be so jumpy, it ain't like ya."
"I ain't scared!"
"Oi never said that."
"You implied it. And said it earlier."
"Look, jus' be quick with you little scavenger hunt. Once Oi get the generator back up and running, we'll rendezvous at The Meeting Room. Now get going." Sniper squeezed the boy's shoulder before letting go to head down the dark hall. Scout stood there for a second more before heading down his own with nothing but a flashlight to fend off the darkness.
Metal had a very distinct smell. You wouldn't think it did, but it does. The smell of hospitals, of factories. A very noticeable cold, coppery tanginess that hurt Sniper's teeth. And that scent grew thicker and thicker the deeper he descended into the base. Not only that, but the darkness seemed to grow darker too. The beam of his torch, once large and could light up nearly all in its path, now was slim and dull; constantly swallowed by the shadows surrounding them.
Like Scout had said, there was a staircase that led deeper into the compound. Funny how little Sniper actually knew about his own bases. Down and down he went, letting the railings and continuing stairs guide him further. And when there were no more stairs to follow, Sniper lifted his torch up to illuminate the narrow passage he found himself at.
Just as dark as everything else. The cold was so thick it was beginning to cut through his fleece. Fantastic. Old wooden beams were combined with more sturdy steel ones, making the already slim hallway even tighter. Cobwebs and dust hung in the air, like time had paused. Everything was so stagnant. So quiet...
Generators. Focus. Shaking the itching skepticism away, Sniper trod on. The hallway had many offshoots, none of which had signs. So he checked the first. Some kind of old broom closet that had a very nasty spider sitting in the corner; Sniper let it be. The second looked to be the boiler. On and on he went, checking each offshoot until he came across a lengthy corridor draped in cobwebs and the overpowering coppery scent. Well, when in doubt, follow your nose. So he walked through the hall.
The metallic scent began to burn his eyes the longer Sniper went until eventually the beam of his torch caught the familiar caution sign of electricity. And a wave of relief flooded the marksman's mind. The heavy door was opened, creaking from being unused and age. Flicking his light around the rather tight room, Sniper caught sight of what felt like a treasure chest.
Standing tall and large were the Base's two generators. Old and dust covered, they almost looked like oversized paperweights. Hopefully they weren't that useless yet.
Hitching his backpack off his shoulders, Sniper entered the room and knelt by the first. Now, how does one turn this bloody thing on? He knew how to work with generators, if only the bare minimums. Growing up on a secluded farm far from all signs of civilization and power relay stations can do that. But this was not an average generator. Nope, because Engie couldn't just leave old machines alone to be understandable for average men who didn't have eleven PHDs in hard science. The truckie just had to improve the bloody things so that while it no longer needed fossil fuels to work, Sniper had no idea where the d*mn circuit breaker was! Or if it was damaged or needed an air filter change. Where was the stupid filter anyway?
Ohhhh, he was going to be down here for a while. Sighing with unhappiness, Sniper set his pack down and began to unload the tools he brought.
Way too dark, waaaay too ****ing dark! The flashlight was basically pointless, because it did jack all to light things up! Huffing in annoyance at his flickering tool, Scout grabbed what felt like a pump action shotgun from the locker he had opened.
The armory was big, of course it was, it was full of over a hundred unique weapons made for nine crazy killers. And right now he was currently trying to find any weapon he could use without a second hand. A pump action shotgun was not one of those so he tossed it aside.
Scout missed his hand. Who wouldn't? At first, it was no big deal. Well, it was, but he had limbs blown off all the time in battle and Medic would always either reattach them with the Medigun or just grow new ones again like the German had done with Demo's eye. That had not ended well. But Medic was gone, and so was the possibility of his hand coming back. Or getting a sick metal one like Overalls had. And using a baseball bat as an actual bat and not a weapon to beat idiots to death with.
Aw man, what the h*ll can a literal handicapped man do in a war?
Scout moved on to the last locker. Okay, so this one was Heavy's if the huge bullets were anything to go by. So this one wouldn't have anything for him to use. Maybe he should focus on Sniper's weapons first.
There were giant crates that needed to be gone through, filled with either ammo or guns. Hopefully some of the Aussie's will be in one. As Scout walked over to the huge boxes, the overhead lights began to flicker. A grin began to make its way onto Scout's face until the lights wouldn't stop flickering. They weren't going to stay, he needed to be fast, his flashlight was dying too.
He leapt over to the corner of crates and got to work. Pulling one away from the rest, Scout pried open the box only to find smaller crates of ammo. The next was heavy and couldn't be moved. When opened it held multiples of Demo's sticky launchers. Pointless. On and on he went until his arms tired and fingernails bled from prying heavy wooden planks open.
"C'mon, ya worthless piece of s**t," Scout growled at the thirteenth crate he began opening, "ya better have something worthwhile-" He stopped. Below him sat a grand pile of Force-A-Natures along with some wonderful little Pocket Pistols.
"I take it back, you're da most beautiful box I've ever seen!" Scout hailed as he picked up a FAN. What a sight for sore eyes! Tossing his backpack to the ground, the runner lovingly placed the shotgun inside. Along with a Pretty Boy, because that was really all he could use. Even if Scout couldn't use the FAN for fighting, it could still be used as a boost. Plus, Sniper could use it if push came to shove. Oh, right, Sniper.
Shoving the crate aside, Scout began his hunt again. Only a few more to check. He opened another crate and in it sat what was obviously Sniper Rifles. Bingo. But Scout didn't have time to make out the models, for just as the lid was pried off, a faint pop filled the room along with darkness.
"Useless piece of s**t!" Sniper seethed as the generator finally kicked the bucket. He'd been fighting to keep it on for about fifteen minutes and for a second, he'd thought he'd won. Until the machine sputtered and gagged and died along with the power.
Groaning, Sniper leaned back from the source of his ire. He needed a break. His hands were sore and covered in dust and grime. His shoulder and neck ached from pinning his torch between them to have both hands open for use, and his knees were starting to hurt from kneeling on hard concrete for over thirty minutes.
Getting to his feet, the marksman began to pace. Pacing didn't help him think all that much, but it got the weight off his knees. Plus, if the generator was truly dead, then there would be no point in sitting around. Scout would get antsy and would fight him even more on decisions. Besides, the kid could probably use a helping hand to find resources.
Sniper turned towards the door and-
"Oh bloody h*ll!" Was the only thing he could say. He froze, unable to move or look away from the abomination before him. The beam of his torch was just as stagnant as it lit up what had to be the largest cockroach Sniper had ever seen.
It was just sitting there on the wall, antennas swaying and watching him. Right by his only exit. How had he not seen it when he came in? Sniper wasn't scared of bugs, but one can understand that being face to face with a creature that was far too big to be normal can make one uneasy.
The standoff was long. Time seemed to blend and Sniper didn't know how long he watched that thing rub its furry legs together or flick its slick back open. Then, the roach moved, crawling out the room with leisure, as if Sniper didn't deserve to be within its gargantuan presence, and vanished into the shadows.
Sniper didn't know why he followed it, maybe to keep tabs on the monster, or his morbid curiosity of where the roach would go overruled his motive to meet back up with Scout. But whatever the reason, the marksman kept in lockstep with the pest, tracking it deeper into the base.
He couldn't see anything. It was too dark, too quiet, and Scout's heart was beating out of his chest. The flashlight that was so vital for maneuvering through the shadows was dead and took with it Scout's sense of direction.
When the lights finally died out, Scout just grabbed the first rifle he felt and booked it out of the armory. The weight of the combined weapons was so distracting that Scout didn't even realize that he'd gotten himself lost until he somehow ended up in one of the giant storage rooms. So he backtracked and was now clinging to the walls like the lifeline it had become.
His footsteps echoed through the empty halls. At least, Scout assumed they were empty. There could be someone watching him from the shadows that saw him but he couldn't see them and Scout would be none the wiser. He stepped lighter after that thought.
Light. He needed light. He needed to find a Medigun. That was the only other item he remembered on the long list of things to grab before reading became impossible. Eyes wide and searching in the deep dark for a new corridor, a new doorway. Why did they have to split up?
Before an answer could be thought up, the floor, Scout's foundation, disappeared. There was no time to gasp in alarm as the runner fell down the metal steps. Deafening thuds and clangs filled the void around him. Jabbing into his sides and ribs, the staircase, along with the world, spun. And just as quickly as it started, the slope evened out and Scout's tumble was stopped.
A pained wheeze was the only sound Scout could make. Well, if the last fall wasn't enough to bruise him from now and into the foreseeable future, this one would. And it was so loud. At least Sniper should have heard that and would hopefully come searching.
Rolling onto his stomach, the runner pushed himself up. It took every ounce of concentration to avoid passing out from the horrific spinning the world began to do. Shaking his head, Scout stumbled down the continued steps and onto the second floor.
Then the lights flickered. It was as if someone had taken a photo with a flash as strong as lightning. The entire hall was filled with light, illuminating every shelf, entrance, and sign for less than a second. Then, it went out again. But not before the sight of the hall had been burned into Scout's retinas, along with the figure he had seen at the very end of the long corridor.
All semblance of pain from the fall drained away and was replaced by a horrific sense of dread. The light had been too quick to make out who it was Scout saw. It might have been Sniper. It should be. But if it wasn't…
He needed to hide.
With the area still etched in his mind, Scout crouched low to the ground, shifting his weight onto the sides of his feet. In an almost feline manner, he crept towards the closest room. He made no noise other than the near silent breathing. His heart was beating against his ribs and threatened to burst as Scout, slipping off his pack, slithered around the door's corner just as the hall lights flickered on again.
From what little he could see and make out from the hall's overhead lights, Scout was in one of the dorms. There was little time to make out whose. For as he pressed himself upon the wall, he heard the sound of footsteps emerging from the sudden darkness that fell.
The sound was soft, much unlike the sharp clicks of Sniper's boots. It was sticky, like walking barefoot upon a smooth surface. A faint padding that got closer and closer to the room Scout was hiding in.
Scout flattened himself along the wall; fingers digging into the rough surface, itching to find purchase, any form of comfort, of foundation, to keep himself from slipping. Vision was dwindling into a darkness deeper than the one drowning him. His head swam and grew airy.
The light flickered once more. Longer than the other two. Long enough for Scout to watch in horror as a long, human-like shadow emerged into the angled glow from the open door.
It wasn't Sniper. It couldn't be. It was a cheap and wretched intimidation of a human's silhouette. So blank and generic, having no recognizable features other than gangly limbs and an oval shaped head.
Breath held, Scout dared not blink as he stared at the shuffling figure passing through the flickering light. Boney shoulders hunched in a slow, near mechanical walk. But then, just as the shadow was about to pass the door, it paused. And when it turned its symmetrical head to peer into the room, the lights finally died.
Quiet, along with darkness, fear, and anticipation, engulfed the small dorm. Scout was blind and there was nothing but the vitriolic beatings in his chest to fill his ears. Breathing was out of the question with the noise it would bring. It was impossible to push himself further into the wall but Scout still tried.
It was then that a familiar sound greeted his ears. The sound that grabbed Scout and dragged him down into an oh so familiar road with pounding rain and a pistol clamped tightly within his hand. The sight of towering grey pines. Smell of gun smoke and blood. And the reeling sensation of complete nausea.
Every fiber of Scout's being was concentrating on keeping from passing out as the sound of twisting, stretching, and wet snapping filled the air. Cold sweat building on his forehead. Chest tight with carbon dioxide. Colorful dots filling his eyes. But he refused to take a breath. And as quickly as it started, the unearthly noises eased up.
All was silent. Even the pounding of his heart was starting to pull back. A quiet that was so very agonizing.
A padding filled Scout's ears along with a buzzing. It was different from before; solid and heavyset. A stride that didn't match with the shadow Scout saw. But it was fading, and before long was silent. Unlike the buzzing that grew louder and louder the longer he sat in the dark.
After a couple more seconds of silence, Scout gasped for air and the buzzing stopped. Swallowing down every molecule, every dust particle he could and feeling ever so grateful for oxygen. It took far longer than safety allowed for the runner to regain his composure. But the thing didn't return, even when the lights flickered once more, and Scout was able to properly take in the dorm room.
There was only one man who would just leave around piles of Medi-bottles in their room like soda cans. Of course, Medic wasn't messy enough to leave a fully built and functional Medigun in his old room whenever they transferred so a Medigun was a bust. Didn't matter. Nothing did besides getting the h*ll out of this deathtrap!
Scout sprung to his feet, dragging along his now open backpack, and stuffing as many of the small health items as he could. Five, ten, more and more he took. Then, when the bag was filled to the brim, Scout reached in and pulled out his Pocket Pistol. And with that, the lights faded out.
"Bloody lights, so bloody useless." Sniper mumbled as the overhead lights once again died. His flashlight was still working so it wasn't like the marksman was completely blind. But every time the halls would spring to life, his eyes would have to adjust to the sudden brightness only to slowly re-adjust when they would fill with darkness again.
Scout wasn't exaggerating when he said the base was a maze. Somehow Sniper ended up on a completely new level to the base despite never finding the same staircase he used before. No amount of backtracking and rethinking his pathway helped Sniper get any less lost. Hallways, corridors, and passages with seemingly no reason for existing filled this floor. They would twist and turn, full of support beams and shelves along with the occasional medical locker, but would eventually come to a dead end, leaving Sniper to walk all the way back from where he started.
So when Sniper heard the roaring sound of something falling down a flight of stairs, he nearly cheered as he made his way towards the source only to get more lost the longer he walked. Why did he have to follow that d*mn roach?
Making his way down the halls, Sniper slipped off his aviators and hooked them to his coat. They were more of a hindrance down here in this void. The second the marksman had slipped the lens' from his face, a faint prickling started on his neck and the urge to put them straight back on. But he ignored the instinct and marched onwards. Ever onwards.
Was he moving forwards? Really? It all looked the same. Cobwebs strung up like banners and streamers. Grimy streaks lining the walls, revealing the negligence its owners had for the compound. And nothing but the occasional buzz of a fly's wings joined the moderate tapping of his heels.
No, Sniper was making progress. This horrible base was just getting to him. It was just the darkness that made everything seem so similar. Yeah, he just had to keep going to find the staircase. Had to find Scout. The only other person in this labyrinth.
Sniper stopped and rubbed his eyes. The lad's attitude wasn't the only thing that rubbed off onto him, apparently. Paranoia wasn't going to help anyone, especially himself. They had a job to do, a goal that was set. Even if that goal would take much longer to reach with the power malfunctioning, it was something solid. Something to aim for, to focus on. And they needed that. Just something to grasp and realize it's there and real. A foundation. A strongly rooted tree that wouldn't be snatched away from them right as they reached it.
Come on, you're a Sniper, you need to focus, just find the miniature delinquent and leave for another base. After the thorough massage his tired eyes were given, Sniper once again started his quest. His torch's beam felt fainter somehow, when he rounded the corner he reached. And his eyes were strained when he turned and turned again to walk down a hallway just like every other bloody hallway. It was so familiar. Was it from all the walking? Or was everything blending together like-
No, he had been here before. Yes! He had, Sniper had been in this exact passageway before! It was long and wide, wider than every other hall he got lost in. But where did it lead? Where was the staircase!?
Sniper drifted his light around the large room, settling over shelves, more halls, cobwebs, the crossroads at the end of the hall, something sky blue, some faded directions to scuffed to read- Sky blue?
He snapped the beam over the right passageway at the very end of the hall. It was gone, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it opportunity. Sniper did blink, and blinked again. And nothing reappeared. So, he had just been seeing things-
"That Scout is a spy…!"
It was so quiet, not from volume but from the distance. The tone was barking, and demanded respect despite the user's manic mannerisms. There was no mistaking that voice.
Sniper froze, eyes wide and staring at the exit far, far away that Soldier took. His teammate, the teammate that had died all those miles away in Sawmill, alive and walking the empty halls.
But it wasn't him, it couldn't be. Soldier was dead. Sniper and Scout were the only survivors.
But that was Soldier, blue jacket, constant yelling and all. Although Sniper had only caught the faintest of glimpses of his supposedly dead colleague. Or was it Scout who suddenly developed an uncanny dead-on Soldier impression?
The marksman nearly jogged over to the exit Soldier went through. Keeping as quiet as possible, Sniper reached the corner and peeked around. Although the torch's beam was weak and small, there was no mistaking the broad shoulders and heavy set marching the American had. Soldier was walking slowly through the hall, as if he was lost and taking in any and all noticeable landmarks. Honestly though, Sniper was in no position to judge.
The American suddenly stopped. Posture as stiff as a board, Soldier stood. He was completely still, was the man even breathing? The image of a ghost sprang to mind. Maybe Soldier was dead, deciding to haunt the team's bases? Did he even know he was dead? A pang of sympathy filled Sniper's chest at the thought. What a bloody awful fate to have, not realizing that your time on this earth was done and forever stuck in limbo. Sniper made to speak out to his teammate.
But stopped when the Soldier beat him to it.
"That Scout is a spy!" He bellowed before walking on. Sniper paused, watching the army man with cold, grey eyes, and lowered his torch until almost complete darkness enveloped him. Then, with silent measured movements, Sniper backed away from the figure padding away deeper into the base. Once he could no longer hear the sound of footsteps, Sniper turned and put as much distance between him and Soldier as possible.
The second, the moment Scout's name was said, something clicked. Like it was the last piece of a puzzle Sniper didn't realize he needed. And the resulting picture was a grim one. Even if that really was Soldier, and the patriotic b*****d survived, or some phantom or… that option, Sniper wasn't sticking around to find out.
What if his eyes were just playing tricks on him, and Sniper was just hearing things? How long does it take for a sensible man to bear witness to unnatural sights and sounds? What if there was nothing there at all? That had to be it. Surely.
Surely…
...
What if the staircase was the direction Soldier went? His stomach began to twist at the thought.
Sniper shook his head. Hard. He turned another corner. As long as he kept walking, he'd stumble across something. Whether that be the Soldier(if he was even real), the staircase, or Scout. His mouth dried when the runner came to mind. That boy better be safe. He better be-
"Scout?" Sniper asked. The slim human spun around and snapped his arm up. In it was a pistol pointed directly at Sniper's head. He froze and his mind blanked as he stared down that barrel.
Scout was staring at him. His eyes were sharp and focused, gleaming with pupils resembling pinpricks from the torch shining in his face. That same look he gave the marksman all those days ago, when Sniper had to pin the disoriented man to the camper floor. A look of scrutiny. A look of distrust, scanning every little detail Sniper had. The runner scowled.
"Mate, it's me!" Sniper brought his arms up to calm Scout down. As if that would do anything. "It's Sniper."
Scout only glared. Silent and cold, a look that so rarely crossed his face.
"It's me." He said once more. Pleading, meeting the runner's harsh gaze. Pleading for Scout to see reason.
The young mercenary was too quiet, too still to be normal. Was it Scout? A deep dread spread through the marksman like frost. Sniper took a step back. That was when Scout finally spoke.
"Stand right there and don't move." He said, voice leaving no room for argument. Sniper obliged and dropped his hands and allowed himself to relax. Scout lowered the weapon and placed it on the crook of his left elbow, clamping down to hold the gun with his damaged arm. Then, he stalked up to Sniper as if the man was a wild animal. Once in range, Scout brought his hand up and Sniper instinctually flinched when he felt two cold fingers press themselves right below his jaw. And as quickly as they were placed, they were removed with Scout immediately backing down in obvious relief.
"Ho- Holy s**t, dude," Scout wheezed as he flashed a quick smile, "I legit thought. I really didn't. Didn't, wasn't. Ya freakin' scared me!"
"You weren't so friendly yourself, whot with sticking a pistol into moi face." Sniper replied, tone light. It had the opposite effect, it seemed, with Scout's placated expression falling into one of fear. He grabbed Sniper's wrist and began pulling him along.
"Listen, we gotta get outta here, man. Dat thing's back, it followed us down here! It freakin', it freakin' knows, man! Da freak's followed us da entire time, we didn't shake it, and we need ta go!" Scout hissed, yanking Sniper to follow and ignoring the older man's noises of discomfort.
"Scout, wait- no, jus'- let go for starters!" Sniper twisted his wrist free from Scout ironclad grip. The runner snapped around but Sniper cut him off before he could say anything.
"Look, jus' calm down for a moment-"
"I ain't gonna "calm down", Snipah. I've been bustin' my *ss tryin' ta find you and-"
"Oi was doing the same thing but Oi need to know-"
"-Walkin' around in da freakin' third level which ain't got nothing but storage after storage-"
"-Scout, listen for a second-"
"-why da **** were ya even up here in da first place? Da second level has all da good s**t-"
"-Scout-"
"-And ya gotta workin' flashlight, something I didn't have so I had ta work my way down here from nothin' but memorefffhfhe!-" Scout's whisper rant was cut off by the sudden hand Sniper planted over the man's face. Ignoring Scout's glare and attempts to pry the hand away, Sniper spoke.
"Listen. We're going to leave, awright? Soon as possible. But Oi have no idea where the staircase is, Oi've been lost for who knows how long trying to find it. Ya know where it is?" Scout nodded. "Good, and since ya had a pistol on ya, Oi'm guessing you found the weapons?" Another nod. "Once Oi let go, you'll give me one of them, Oi don't care whot gun. Then, you'll lead us out of here and we'll drive as far away as… Whot?" Sniper paused his plan when he caught sight of Scout's expression. The runner's eyes were wide as the moon and were looking at Sniper's shoulder. Or above it. And his grip on Sniper's arm tightened.
"Whot are you-"
"Sniper!" That all too familiar voice rang out. And what felt like a cold hand grabbed Sniper's heart and twisted it. The marksman turned. Looked up. And pointed his torch at the unmistakable form of Soldier.
The man stood there, holding a hand up in greeting. A welcoming smile plastered under that big bucket helmet. Soldier lowered his hand and started forward.
"Hold on, mate!" Sniper whipped around, holding his hand out to stop the patriot. The patriot stopped, still smiling, still Soldier. "Soldier? That you?"
"Yes!" The man barked, saluting.
"Are you really Soldier?"
"Affirmative!" The man flashed a grin. The same cheeky smirk that the American always had. Sniper only looked at him, analyzing each little detail. Shiny black boots, thick blue jacket, the grenades clasped to his front. It really did look like Soldier. He wanted it to be Soldier. So very, very much.
"Scout, Sniper, help me capture this point!" Soldier said, pointing towards the deep blackness the man had emerged from.
"Snipah." Scout murmured, tugging on his arm much weaker than before. But Sniper only had ears for Soldier.
"Whot point, mate?" he asked, never breaking eye contact with the man. Soldier paused, his smile never wavering. He stood incredibly still, even neglecting to breath. Sniper could just imagine the gears churning in the American's helmet.
"The Capture Point. Help me capture this point!" Soldier finally replied, once again pointing to the darkness. Then, he turned and gestured for the pair to follow him. Still smiling.
"...Nah, mate, we're good." Sniper said, as he heard the sound of a zipper opening. "Whoi don't you go on ahead. We'll scout out the perimeter and make sure there's no crumby RED pikers hiding around."
"Negatory." Rustling and jostling behind him. "C'mere, Sweetheart."
"No, Oi think we'll be leaving, actually." Sniper took a step back, then another, and another. "Feel free to capture all the points ya want, Solly. But me and Scout have been assigned to a mission, and we have to get it done. You understand how important missions are." At that, Soldier's grin finally fell into what looked like a pout. He turned away from the two, crossing his arms and digging his boots' toes into the concrete ground.
"We failed, men." Something solid slammed itself into Sniper's hand, causing him to whip around to see what it was. In his palm sat a Force-A-Nature and Scout was once again tugging at his arm, never looking away from their supposed colleague. Sniper gripped the shotgun in his hands, and turned to take one last look before running-
Eyes. Too many eyes, eyes everywhere. Eyes where there shouldn't be, all blinking and staring directly at him. The Soldier shell was twisting and bending at angles the human body should never be in. Jaw open far too wide and long. Warping, growing, snapping bones and tearing flesh.
Thin skin-like membranes were punching and bugging out from everywhere. Like an amniotic sack. Colors of skin, clothing, all blending together as faces could be seen pushing against the transparent walls. Faces of oh so familiar teammates. The skin ruptured. And the warped, misshapen faces of his team stared straight back.
With mouths too big. Teeth too many. Eyes too bulbous and glazed.
Sniper only stood and watched. Heavy, Medic, Pyro, Demo, Soldier, Spy, and Engineer stared right on back. There were even faces he didn't recognize forming along with the others.
The sound of ruptured tendons and flesh began to grow, and a hideous line split straight through the thing's torso, separating the snarling, broken heads. And that line began to grow and open itself. The faces all joined in opening their maws. A slight tugging was felt. Whispers. Whispers behind, to the side, in front. Hundreds of mouths all opened at once.
"S̶̨͚̣̲̖̤͓̦̟̖̥͗͒̏̓̊̾̚͠ ̵̨͖͔̻̹̖͓̗͙̤̑̏͑̚Ǹ̸̤́̐͌͂͗͒̈́̓̂͝ ̶̮̹̔́̿͛̚̚͝I̵̢̦̖͕͎͎̤͎͛̇̉̓͊͛̆͑͘̕P̴͇̘̦̤̳̯̀̾̈́ͅ ̶̝͚̮̥͙̖̭̮̺͊̍Ĕ̴̤͉̞͒̀̃͛̆̅͝R̶͔̬̺̻̅̆̿͑͗͜͝!"
"RUN!" Scout screamed. That familiar voice tore Sniper away from the haze he was stuck in. As the monster roared, the duo turned and sprinted down the corridor.
His feet pounded against the solid floor, mixing with the choir of voices all screaming their names. Scout was already miles ahead. But he turned, ran straight back, and grabbed Sniper by the wrist again.
"Come on!" He shouted and yanked the Australian forwards. Faster and faster they went, all the while having the shrieks of the dead following right on their heels. The hall was quickly coming to an end. Several doors and passages lined the walls. Heart pounding, Sniper looked behind to steal a glance at the beast. Tens of arms were reaching for him, only inches away. The twisting, churning faces frothing and gnawing. All far too close. Impulse took over.
Sniper swung the shotgun up. Finger on the trigger. Demo's face contorted into anger.
BOOM!
The force of the blast knocked Sniper off his feet and careening into Scout. The two fell, rolling and tangled in each other's limbs. Wheezing from the kickback, the world spun as Sniper looked up from the floor. The creature had been blasted far down the hall, tangled in it's own mess of limbs and pulsating flesh.
Sniper rolled out from under the limp mass of Scout and shook his shoulder.
"Scout, get up!" The runner groaned but got up. Legs shook when he stood, but there was little time to recuperate. The monster roared with fury. Sniper grabbed the FAN and Scout's arm, heaving the younger man along. Not before Scout bent and snatched something glinting off the ground. The flashlight was left behind as the two scurried around a corner and into a slim storage room.
The marksman pulled Scout along and down to the ground behind a large cabinet. In the corridor that they entered from, the snarling grew and grew along with the sound of dragging. The pair sat paralyzed. The noises came closer and closer.
When something like a whimper escaped his youngest teammate, Sniper clamped a hand over his mouth and pulled him close. The two sat interlocked as that sound of tearing flesh filled the space. Then the creature entered.
With eyes adjusted to blackness, Sniper could only watch as a slim figure crept into the room. It looked human again, much smaller in size than Soldier. As it crawled along with predatory movements, Sniper felt the blood drain from Scout's face. His own soon grew cold as realization flooded his mind. The thing was trying to impersonate Scout. But it couldn't.
It was Scout if he had his hand back. It was Scout if he was wearing his hat which was constantly shifting and changing sizes. It was Scout if the boy starved himself until he was nothing but a shambling husk. Then the creature opened it's mouth.
Gargled words spilled out, not even close to resembling the runner's accent or pitch. It tried again, looking everywhere except behind it. Where Sniper and Scout were hidden.
Besides him Sniper felt Scout begin to squirm and twist deeper into his side. And if Sniper could see anything other than silhouette's, he was sure he'd see Scout paler than a ghost. The kid's skin sure felt like it.
The Not-Scout began to morph once more, the snapping followed by the torso stretching beyond the human limits. Taller and thinner it became. The neck was extending. With its new moderations, the shapeshifter snaked its head and started to peer into the rafters above.
His heart was pounding painfully against his ribs. Even the slightest shuffle could alert the beast. A distraction. They needed a distraction.
With his free hand, Sniper began to feel along the ground. Dust and grime coated his fingers but he continued. There had to be something.
"I promise I vill heal you…" Medic's disembodied voice echoed through the room. Sniper kept searching. Scout had gone deathly still.
Sniper nearly shouted when the floor moved under his hand. The soft clicking of a bug's shuffle filled the airways. A large roach scurried out the room, even opening its wings to fly after a moment. The monster whipped it's head around and slithered out the room, snapping bones pursuing the harmless insect.
What was seconds and hours simultaneously went by before Sniper was certain the beast was gone. That was when he released Scout.
""There's no such thing as shape-shiftin' monsters" he says! "There's no evidence that our team was killed by a monster" he says!"
"Oh, shut it!" Sniper hissed.
"So you don't hafta admit dat I was right! Well, newsflash, chucklehead, I am! I tried ta warn ya," Scout jabbed a finger into Sniper's chest. "Tried ta talk some ****ing sense into ya but noo! Scout's just lives in make-believe land and doesn't know what the h*ll he's talkin' about even though he lost his ****in' hand!-"
"Awright! Oi get it!" Sniper huffed, "keep your voice down. Oi'm sorry for not believing you, honest. Oi jus'… Oi jus' didn't want to believe that our team was, was mauled to death by something that shouldn't exist." Sniper felt Scout shift and the weight pinned to his side vanished.
"Let's just focus on gettin' outta here first before all da sappy stuff, alright? But… sorry accepted." Scout whispered.
"Right," Sniper got to his feet as silently as possible. Scout did the same. "Do you know where the staircase is? Cause if ya don't, Oi'm afraid we're dead men."
"Yeah, gimme a sec." Scout went quiet along with Sniper. The kid was muttering something to himself.
"Whot are you-"
"Shush!" Scout said before continuing to mutter. Sniper picked out words that sounded like "left, five, crisscross,".
"...crap."
"Whot?"
"Da Counterfeit was heading towards Da stairs." Scout whined as he began to pace. Sniper had to grab his shoulder to keep the kid from making noise.
"You renamed the bloody thing?"
"I had a lotta time ta think of a better one."
"Is there any other way to get out?" He asked. The runner paused, thinking. He shot up.
"Yeah, da emergency exit! For fire safety and s**t. I know where it is. Follow me." Scout slipped out from the room with Sniper close behind.
They made no noise other than their shallow breathing and occasional mumbles Scout made. As Scout crept through the halls, Sniper was watching their back, sawed-off at the ready. Progress was made painstakingly slow, with Scout checking corners and listening for the beast before making any turn. But Sniper wasn't complaining. Better safe than sorry.
During their journey, Scout had slipped Sniper some ammo from his pack to reload the FAN. When the marksman had ejected the empty shells and replaced them, Scout stopped.
"Something wrong?" Sniper rumbled. Scout didn't respond right away, too busy looking at the crossroads they reached.
"I'm tryin' ta remember which pathway it was. It's one of these, dat's for sure." He scratched his neck in thought. Sniper looked as well. They all were scarily identical; all dark, no arrows, no markings. He took a deep breath and prepared to sigh when something caught his attention. The prickly scent of pine trees.
"Snipah, da h*ll are you doin'?" Scout asked as the marksman walked ahead of him. But Sniper ignored him. He sniffed the air and continued until he stopped at the left corridor.
"It's this way."
"Wha-," Scout gaped, stumbling to Sniper's side, " how da h*ll do you know dat?" Sniper only patted Scout's back as they walked.
"When in doubt, follow your nose." He smirked. "Oi could tell because Oi could smell the pines outside." Scout looked to the ceiling, sniffing.
"Huh. Weird… yeah, wait, I think I know da path now, what we gotta do is-" Scout stopped. The silence made Sniper pause to look back. His teammate was staring at his arm with an intense look. On it sat one of those freakishly large roaches.
"...Scout, mate, it's jus' a bug, it's not going to hurt you." Sniper assured. Scout, still staring down at the creature, raised his other arm to brush it aside. That was when its back flicked open and took flight. Directly towards Scout's face.
"Don't!-"
Scout screamed. The sound echoed through the vacuous compound and Sniper could only stand there in shock as his companion froze at the volume. Scout's scream pilfered out seconds later, leaving the two in silence. A moment passed, then Sniper glared daggers at the runner.
"Ya jus' had to open your big mouth-" An ear splitting shriek erupted through the halls. And the duo wasted no time.
"Run!" Sniper shouted. Scout needed no permission. The pair shot down their hall, feet slamming against the ground, no longer caring to be heard.
"Da right, need ta go right!" Scout yelled. The oncoming crossroads were making grounds. Shrieks and roars were too. Breathing fast, Sniper threw himself down the passage Scout took. The scent of pines grew. And the sound of pattering rain filled their ears.
The ground beneath began to tremble. Scout took a left and Sniper followed. The support beams shook and dust fell to the ground. Cabinets and shelves threatened to topple. The Counterfeit had found them.
"Hurry!" Scout cried. Heart pounding and breathing ragged, Sniper looked up and saw the destroyed doors and blinding outdoors of the Emergency Exit. It was high above with a steep staircase leading to overcast freedom. With a burst of adrenaline, Sniper shot forwards. The Counterfeit's choir of voices filled the air.
It happened so fast. A metal medical cabinet fell in the corner of Sniper's eye and suddenly his nose was on fire from colliding into the floor. White hot pain shot through his right leg as the sharp corners and weight cut into his skin. He screamed.
Scout looked back and paled. The runner grinded to a stop and shot back. Sniper twisted and tried to lift the cabinet with his back. The weight held him down.
"Help me!" He yelled. Scout grabbed the cabinet and tried to lift it. Sniper tried too. The monster drew closer.
"S**t!" Scout seethed as the cabinet refused to budge. Sniper gripped the floor and tried to pull himself out. It only resulted in pain. The runner looked over, saw what Sniper was doing, and grabbed his arm. Scout began pulling with all his might, digging his heels into the ground. Sniper felt the metal weight shift.
"It's comin' closer!" Scout shouted, looking at the horror behind the marksman.
"Scout, focus, it's coming loose, Oi can feel it! Jus' focus!" Scout looked back to him and pulled. The cabinet shifted again. Deafening wails filled Sniper's mind. His partner stopped pulling and looked back up.
"Scout! Focus!" Scout flicked his eyes back and forth, face lined with absolute terror. The ground began to shake violently.
"Scout." Sniper pleaded, still gripping tightly to Scout's hand. The runner turned back to him. There was something new in those eyes of his. Something that made Sniper's heart drop. And doused the little hope the Australian felt.
It was shame.
Scout let go of Sniper's hand.
"Scout, don't!" He began to back away, shaking his head in remorse.
"Scout!" The Scout turned and ran away.
"SCOUT!" Was the last thing Sniper said as the world, and the shrinking figure of Scout, was engulfed in pain and flesh covered darkness.
