Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, we've reached the beginning of the end. DON'T FRET, there's still five more chapters left after this one(if my math is correct). It's kinda scary to be so close to the end, can you believe it's been nearly a year since I began? I started last March. It's certainly been one heck of an experience, for me and for you, my dearest readers. If it weren't for you all, I don't think I would have been nearly as encouraged to put my best foot forward with this fic. So thank you, each and every single one of you who stuck around though the(at least in my opinion) not-as-good-as-the-later-chapters beginning.
Quiet. The whole day had been quiet. And while normally that would be a good sign, something Sniper would be able to use to compose himself, it was not. Not now. Not with Scout in the passenger seat.
When the pair had woken up, mere seconds between the other, nothing was said. When they tried to eat something, nothing was said. And for the past five hours nothing was said. And the only way that was possible was either Scout forcing himself to stay quiet for Sniper's sake, or the runner was once again stuck in his mind and its worries. It was the latter.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel as the marksman spotted the faint blue of their base far in the distance through the towering trees. Scout wasn't the only one stressed out of his bloody mind, their plan was far too fragile, relying on a single factor that no one could prove. But what other choice did they have? What other plan could they make? Time had run out yesterday, and it was running out today. Not just for themselves but their team. Would they still be alive? Once Sniper got them down, would they be anything else than liquidated corpses? The thought of having a shriveled or melted Medic on his hands brought about an uncomfortable prickling as the back of his head.
But it had to be done, he had to know at the very least. His role wasn't going to be pleasant, h*ll, all of their roles were awful for them. But was there anyone else who could best do their parts? No. So Sniper was stuck being the one who went back into those wretched caves and tight spaces in order to free his teammates, Scout was stuck being the distraction for a beast who had caused more mental damage to the runner than anything else, and Miss Pauling was stuck having to lower several heavy weapons and supplies into the caves once Sniper found that dome-like room. He did not envy her part, nor with Scout's, but bloody h*ll, this was not going to be a walk in the park.
Sniper snuck a glance at the runner to his right. Scout was quiet. And breathing funny; the way his chest seemed to lightly jerk with shallow breaths wasn't bringing any peace of mind to the older mercenary.
"...You're quiet," he ended up saying. His tone wasn't loud, but it sure had that effect as Scout flinched. Hard.
"W- I, I, yeah, guess I, yeah," the Bostonian stuttered, scratching at his neck. Sniper looked at the low hanging storm clouds, near black with locked up rain.
"Got something on your mind?"
"...I'm gonna do it," Scout said sternly.
"Want to be specific?"
"I'm gonna ask her on a date when we get there." Sniper turned towards Scout, having a long, drawn out blink, not knowing whether to groan or laugh.
"Glad to see you've got your priorities straight, Scout," he deadpanned. The runner gave a sheepish grin.
"Well, yeah, cause I wanna make sure I shoot my shot just… just in case, y'know?"
""Just in case"," Sniper repeated. "Lad, if that "just in case" scenario happens, you won't be going on any dates no matter whot Miss Pauling's answer will be." Scout paused, the gears in his head turning written clearly on his face. Then his ears grew pink.
"Okay, well, maybe it'll help if I know what she'll say beforehand, didya think of dat? A-And besides, I'd rather… I'd rather be worried about askin' her out than… y'know."
"Yeah," Sniper sighed, catching another glimpse of their old base, "Oi know." The conversation, if it could even be called that, died a miserable death as the pair grew silent once again.
Through the glass of the windshield and the tin of the door, Sniper could hear the strong winds outside. It was cold, but the wind, from what little he felt when getting in the van, was warm. Well, warmer than the actual air itself. A storm was brewing. Typical for Sawmill. The deep gray above them threatened to pour but didn't, the greenish-gray firs and pines, the steep forest-covered hills, it really was a beautiful place. Such a shame to have it tainted by something so horrible.
The road began to rise as they made their way up and through the hills towards the bases. A singular fat raindrop hit the glass, creating a pool of distortion right in Sniper's line of sight. But that was all.
Of all the times for Sawmill to not be pouring down like a bloody waterfall, it had to be today. Sniper drummed his fingers along the wheel, listening to the crunch of gravel under the van's tires, listening to the wind, muffled by the door, racing by, listening to the uneven breathing of his youngest teammate. He stole a glance towards the mercenary. Scout was once again zoning out with his shoulders hunched.
"...if you don't mind me asking," Sniper began, "whoi did you volunteer to be the distraction so quickly yesterday?" Scout, like before, flinched.
"Uh, I- Uh…" the runner's ears began to turn a light shade of pink, "I mean, I kinda, my mouth was movin' on its own mostly, an- and, uh… it didn't help dat we, y'know, had… had company over-"
"You offered to be the distraction to impress Miss Pauling, didn't you?" Sniper interrupted. The burning red of Scout's ears was answer enough. "Oh for crying out loud, the second she comes around you're tripping over yourself to put on a brave face."
"Hey, we haven't seen her for over a month, man, what do ya think I'm gonna do?"
"Actually think through whot you're volunteering for. Acting solely on impulse is going to get you killed one day, mark moi words."
"I can't afford ta think out my every freakin' step, my guy!" Scout retorted, "everythin's always goin' too fast, bullets flyin' everywhere, and all ya can do ta survive is act fast and think last, okay!?"
"On the battlefield, yes, Oi understand that but-"
"And what da h*ll da you mean "puttin' on a brave face"? I'm super brave, more than you, on a daily basis! I mean," Scout smirked, jabbing his thumb into his chest, "we're talking about da guy who saved your skinny *ss from Landfall all by himself here! So, so y'know, keepin' dat thing away from you two should be no problem, I've had worse." The runner leaned back, seemingly satisfied and… very Scout-ish. Smug smile and all. It would have maybe worked on someone else, someone who just met the American, someone who knew jack squat about the runner, someone who hadn't seen what lay beneath all that bravado. That someone wasn't Sniper. And with a single cursory glance at his companion, Sniper could tell that Scout was putting up an act. The light furrow between the kid's brow, and the light darting movements of his eyes was enough for Sniper to know that Scout was very much not feeling very brave right now. He silently sighed. This conversation had reached its end.
The road evened out and they took a right, now fully able to see the BLU Base waiting for them on the hillside. Sniper's mouth dried, and Scout pushed himself into the back of his seat.
If everything was going according to plan, Miss Pauling was down there somewhere, ready and waiting with all their necessary weapons and gear. If she hadn't been caught, that is. Or late.
"I mean," he heard Scout start, "your… your part ain't so hot either, pal, so, my job's… my job's gonna be a walk in da freakin' park compared ta yours."
"Wouldn't be too sure of that," Sniper replied, watching the bases come closer and closer, "but it's not like there's someone else who Oi could trade with."
"I guess so."
"And Oi'm not nearly fast enough to keep that thing on moi heels without getting nabbed so… we have the best chance of surviving this way. Ain't pleasant, but-"
"I know," Scout mumbled, "ya don't have ta explain it ta me, I was there."
"Right." The trees grew sparse, and the gravel road began to widen. Their speed dropped and after a moment stopped entirely. Now parked a good distance away from the base, the pair sat, letting the engine fill the thick dead air. The two mercenaries stared at the looming building, decrepit and ill tempered. Sniper heard Scout swallow.
"Guess we've made it, huh," he said. The marksman nodded.
"Would seem so."
"We should, uh… we should find- should look for Miss P, y'know? Make sure she's around?"
"Yeah." Sniper agreed. He grabbed the door's handle and stepped out into the fierce breeze. Scout was right on his tail, silently closing the door behind him. The marksman made his way to the back. After a couple minutes, he came back out with two backpacks and handed Scout's to said runner, who slipped it on without a word. As the grainy crunch of gravel underfoot filled the air, the mercenaries began to walk towards the Rondevu Point.
The spot where Miss Pauling said she would meet them was a small clearing right between the two bases. In the clearing was a small shack, one so weather worn that it was hard to believe it was still standing. The purpose of the building was "classified", as Miss Pauling put it. Sniper didn't really understand why, considering its condition. But he wasn't one to pry into something that wasn't affecting him.
The runner at his side dashed ahead when the clearing came to view, along with the purple jeep parked next to it. Its tires were muddy and covered in grass, and behind it was a small trailer covered by a tarp. No doubt that was where the weapons she'd brought were being kept. He made his way to the back, grabbing the tarp and lifting the polyester material when he heard Scout say something.
"Uh, where is she?" Sniper straightened up, scanning the clearing with haste. Scout was in the same boat, worry far more prevalent on his face. "Cause this is her. She got this here. This stuff, but she ain't here. It's all here but she ain't."
"Maybe she's in the shack," Sniper pointed out. The runner needed no invitation, he was at the wooden door and pulling at the handle. It seemed to be locked as Scout was now pulling it with both his feet planted on the shack's wall.
"D*mn, this thing won't budge!" Scout grumbled. He then cupped his hand and brought it to his mouth. "Miss Pauling! Hey, Miss P, you in there-"
"Will you keep your voice down!?" Sniper hissed, grabbing his Machina from his pack, "now's not the time to bring attention to yourself!"
"But she ain't here!" Scout cried, frantically looking around the land surrounding them, "she's missing! We- oh ****, ah ****in' s**t, what if she got caught!? We gotta find her," any semblance of fear from before had twisted into a fierce determined look as Scout turned to rush the base. Before he could, and before Sniper could try and stop him, they heard a voice.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm fine, I was looking for that hole you told me about while I was waiting!" The pair spun around to spot Miss Pauling jogging back into the clearing. Sniper took a double take and besides him he heard Scout say "holy moly" under his breath. The assistant was no longer sporting her normal pencil skirt dress and instead was wearing what looked like a purple tactical suit. One that was made to fit a short woman like herself and not a battle hardened, 200 pound bloke. Honestly, she looked a bit like Soldier.
"Miss P!" Scout exclaimed, sprinting to meet her halfway, "you're okay! Holy s**t, I thought ya got nabbed!"
"Yeah," Sniper said, watching the secretary walk to her jeep with Scout close behind. His eyes narrowed as he walked towards the pair.
"I'm sorry, it's just you two were taking a while and I was curio-" Miss Pauling stumbled to a halt as Sniper grabbed her wrist. Beneath her smooth skin, he could make out a pulse.
"Jus' had to make sure," he muttered, letting go of her wrist and grabbing hold of his rifle once again. The cool metal grip weighing down on his rough palms cleared his mind more than he'd like to admit, even if all it could do is slow the b*****d down. Miss Pauling nodded in understanding.
"I would have done the same in your shoes," she said, turning to Scout who was looking through the trailer. "Excuse me," she brushed past the runner and grabbed the tarp. With a harsh tug, it fell away, revealing the horde of weaponry she'd gathered.
"Any sign of it since you got here?" Sniper asked as Miss Pauling hopped onto the trailer.
"No," she said, "I've been keeping an eye out; there's been nothing but birds and a few rabbits."
"So we don't know where it is then."
"Unfortunately not. And Scout," Miss Pauling turned to the runner who straightened up instantly, "I know you wanted Molotovs but those are far too unpredictable and fragile."
"Aw c'mon, they actually work, though!" He whined, gripping his jacket's sleeve.
"And I'm sure that these will work just as well," Miss Pauling stated, handing him a belt of grenades. Sniper's eyes widened.
"Uh, are you sure he can actually use those? He only has one hand, how'll he pull the pins?"
"He has teeth," Miss Pauling said as she slipped the belt over Scout's shoulders.
"Yeah, gimme some credit, man, I got teeth!" Scout repeated, looking rather smug until Miss Pauling tightened the belt around his chest, "Ow- does it gotta be so tight?"
"If you don't want it slipping off, yes. Now Sniper, here's your flare gun," Sniper grabbed the bright red pistol, bringing it up and examining it, "all other supplies are in this crate." Miss Pauling pointed to a large box.
"Thank ya kindly."
"You're welcome. Now, we should go over the plan one more time just to be safe-" the pair heard Scout groan.
"Aw c'mon, Miss P, we went over it, like, three times yesterday, we wouldn't forget after all a dat!"
"I'd rather be safe than sorry," she explained. "Now, um, Sniper," the marksman raised his head, pausing his search through the crate, "what's our plan?" He sighed, pulling out a rather thick climbing rope.
"Well, part one's complete," he started, fixing the rope to his belt, "that being arriving here, safe and sound, and you bringing around everything we need."
"Which is?"
"For moiself: rope, a flare, ammo," from the crate he pulled a small rifle ammo box. Opening it, he took a bullet, slipped it into the Machina's chamber, and loaded it with a crisp chk-KH. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "Torch, earpiece," said earpiece was handed to him by Miss Pauling, who was watching Scout pull one of his headpieces out from his backpack.
"And some jars," she finished, "just, uh, in case?" A pause before Scout snorted and began to snicker uncontrollably. Sniper only stared Miss Pauling down, who was pointedly not meeting his gaze.
"Right," he said coolly.
"Right, so…"
"Oi head into the base," Sniper continued, placing the earpiece in his ear, "while Scout is presumably distracting our monster. Oi find the hole, climb down, make moi way through the caves and back to the chamber where the lads are hanging, fire the flare, help you get the supplies down, free the blokes, keep them from dying, and if they're alive, we arm them, Scout leads that thing into the chamber, and we exterminate the bloody bogen. And if they aren't, then we rig the bloody place, Scout leads it below, we pull him up, and blow the b*****d up and trap whatever could be left of it in stone."
"Exactly, now Scout, did you give him the map you made?" Miss Pauling asked. The runner jumped, apparently having zoned out. Or watching for something.
"Uh, yeah, it's in his pack, in da side pocket," Scout pointed.
"Good, and while you two are doing your thing, I'll be making perimeter sweeps around the bases, watching for your flare. If something goes wrong, use your communications and let me know, since I'll also be watching for you two should things go haywire and we need to retreat."
"Sounds about right," Sniper noted, packing the last of his supplies into his backpack and swinging it back onto his shoulders. Scout nodded, fiddling with a strap from his own.
"Uh, don't suppose I get a weapon besides these, huh," he loosely grinned, gesturing to the grenades strapped to his chest. "Because a my missin' hand?"
"Actually, I got you an Atomizer," Miss Pauling clambered onto the trailer, looking through another crate, "I thought about it, and it seemed to be the best choice for you to have. And a Winger, because none of your other weapons would really help you with… your lack of hands." Miss Pauling stated it lightly but Scout didn't seem to care either way. His face had lit up at the word "Atomizer" and only grew when the admittedly silly looking bat was placed in his hand.
"Now you should only use it in tight areas, like if you get cornered," the assistant explained, "you being down an arm will make it so that you will really need to commit to using these so make sure you fully analyze your situation before using them, alright?"
"You got it, Miss P!" Scout said, swinging his new bat around. The sight of the runner being so outwardly happy lessened some of the solemness of their task, and Sniper felt the grip on his rifle loosen a tad. But his happiness was short-lived once Miss Pauling asked "so are we ready?" Scout's smile dropped completely, leaving in its wake a wide eyed pale face.
"...Yeah," he uttered, looking towards the base, "might as well get it over with." Sniper rolled his shoulder back, checking to make sure he had enough ammo for the job.
"Alright then, listen you two," Miss Pauling straightened up, looking as though she was about to make a drill sergeant speech, "this won't be easy, and I can't guarantee that we will even kill that thing. But that's not as important as your team members. Focus on them first, Connery second, alright?" The pair nodded, with Scout's hesitance fading into ferocity. Sniper was feeling the same. He drummed his fingers along his rifle's forestock. His team had to be freed, even if only to have a proper burial.
"Like I said earlier, if something goes wrong, like, very wrong, fall back, we'll regroup, but do not improvise," both Miss Pauling and Sniper turned towards Scout. The runner hung his head, nodding. "Keeping to the plan will keep you from panicking, which could cost us everything if it's too severe. So… stick to the plan, stay safe, make sure you let me know if something goes wrong so-"
"And you'll do that too, right?" Scout blurted out. "Like, if somethin' goes wrong on your end? Cause we'd need ta know dat too, and-"
"Yes, I'll make sure you two know about that should it happen," Miss Pauling stated. The runner relaxed.
"Okay, just… you'll stay safe, right?"
"I'll do my best."
"We ought to get going, Scout," Sniper said, taking hold of Scout's shoulder. The runner was still talking.
"And remember, if you see a me runnin' around-"
"Know that it's not actually you, yes, I'll remember," Miss Pauling reassured. Scout opened his mouth to say something else, and Sniper had an idea as to what it was. But nothing came out. Instead he closed his mouth, stepped back, and nodded.
"Good," he said, "you stay safe. Yeah."
"I'll try. Now, are your comms linked?" She asked. Sniper and Scout tuned their communication devices with the runner's making a warbling hiss and Sniper's earpiece making a sharp beep.
"Yep." Sniper heard Scout say both to his right and in his left ear, "they're linked."
"Great. Now, keep them on, I need to make sure they're linked to mine," Miss Pauling put on her own earpiece and sighed. She met both the mercenaries' eyes. "Let's get this done."
"Right. Come on, Scout," Sniper took hold of the younger man's shoulder, pulling him towards the towering base. Scout didn't move. Not in the direction Sniper wanted. Instead, he pulled himself from the marksman's hand and dashed towards Miss Pauling and locked her in a hug.
To say the assistant's eyes widened would be an understatement. She had stiffened, and looked completely at a loss for what to do. But Scout did.
"Stay safe, Miss P," he said before letting go and jogging back up to Sniper, ears burning red. He didn't meet Sniper's gaze when the marksman fell by the runner's side, walking towards the base.
"Thought you said you'd ask her out?" Sniper mentioned.
"I'm workin' on it," Scout grumbled. The pair fell silent as the BLU Base filled their vision. Sniper scanned the forest, watching for any movement, and noise. Behind them, Miss Pauling had gotten into her jeep, and was driving away to circle the bases. To his side, Scout fiddled with his bat, walking quietly.
In no time at all they reached the entrance.
"Well," Sniper started, drumming his fingers on his rifle, "let's get to it, lad." Scout nodded, eyes to the ground.
"Yeah, right, yeah, I got- yeah," he rasped, swallowing hard, "I'm f… I'm fast enough, I got this, won't let it get anywhere close ta you two, yeah."
"D*mn right," Sniper patted his shoulder and entered the base. Behind him he heard Scout take in a sharp breath.
"So I just gotta… I just gotta make some noise? Ta lure it out? Cause. Cause I need it followin' me, and, and not hidin'."
"That's the idea," Sniper nodded, stepping over a fallen beam sticking out from the flooded floor. The base didn't look too different, perhaps just a bit more broken. He instinctively shook some water from his boot, not that it would help with his already soaking pant legs.
The hole he had to find was on the first floor, down… down that corridor, where the staircase was. He marched down the hall, taking hold of the rope at his hip.
"So, uh, guess you're headed down?" Scout asked. Sniper looked over his shoulder at the runner, who was standing like he'd just walked in on something unpleasant. The marksman nodded.
"Yup, and hopefully you're going to go and keep that thing off our backs," Sniper said, tying the rope to a sturdy looking beam.
"...I dunno if I'm fast enough," the runner murmured. Looking back, Sniper met his gaze.
The runner's eyes were wide, crackling with uncertainty. Those raging thundercloud blues, mixed with miniscule shards of silver, kept flickering towards the walls, the floor, anything besides Sniper. "What if I can't keep ahead, or it gets bored and goes after you?"
"...Then you have to do the one thing you're better at than running," Sniper said, pulling at the knot he made. Yep, it wasn't coming loose anytime soon.
"Wha- which is what, what da heck is it?" Scout asked as Sniper took hold of the rope and made to descend. The marksman gave him a cheeky grin.
"Annoyin' the absolute h*ll out of people." The runner's face blanked, then twisted into a nasty scowl.
"You b*****d," Scout growled, flipping him off, "I hope you get lost down there, ya freakin', ya freakin'... I don't know, but I'll figure it out once we're done!" The runner flipped his bat and caught it, "you mark my words, I'm gettin' back at ya after this!"
"Yeah, sure, maybe you'll even put some big boy britches on and actually ask Miss Pauling out, but Oi'm not holding moi breath."
"**** off," Scout sneered, "just get your lanky, campin' *ss down dat hole and let a real mercenary show ya how it's done."
"Then go already, ya spastic ankle biter!" Sniper jeered back. Scout flipped him off once again, smiling, before sprinting back, making more noise than he ever thought water could make.
"Alright ya stupid, ugly, grimy freak, I've got one H*LL of a bone ta pick with you!-" The runner was gone, shouting obscenities and making a ruckus so loud and irritating that Sniper forgot that he also had a job to do. Lowering himself into the chasm, Sniper took in a breath and descended into the dark, the soft echoes of his teammate fading into the dark.
"Holy s**t, where da **** are you!?" Scout snarled, banging his bat on a wooden beam. The loud crack of aluminum on wood rang through the halls, shaking the support beam. So far, there has been nothing. No sign of it. And he was getting really pissed off.
And it felt great.
Was he scared? Maybe a little, maybe a bit, maybe a lot but it paled in comparison to his anger. It was so freeing like this instead of having to bite his tongue and keep as quiet as possible like the other times. Those moments felt like he was nothing but a rabbit or something, having to listen to everything, having to be so freaking quiet, forced to be the hunted. Well now he was the hunter. Sniper would probably appreciate his comparisons. A hunter of the hunter, looking for that b*****d, one that was still hiding.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Scout shouted, swinging his bat and cracking it against the base's foundation, "I got some Girl Scout cookies for ya! Do ya like Thin Mints? Tagalongs? You ain't gettin' any till I see your ugly ****in' face! Though considerin' none a them are human hand flavored, I don't think you'd like them," the runner paused, listening to the dark halls. Nothing. He growled.
"UGH, just come out already!" Scout yelled when a light crackle filled his left ear.
"Alright you two, any sign of it? Scout, have you seen anything?" He groaned.
"Nah," Scout said, swinging his bat to the beat of his walk, "nothin' but nothin'. It's bein' cowardly, hidin' away, like a freakin' snipah!"
"Hey, Oi resent that," a rough accent said through his headset. Scout dramatically groaned again.
"Not you, Snipah, a snipah! There's a difference." From the distasteful noise his teammate made it was clear Sniper didn't believe him. Well, screw him, Miss Pauling was saying something.
"Sniper, what's your status?"
"It's bloody dark and cold down here, even with moi torch," Sniper said, voice filled with static, "Oi heard something, but Oi haven't seen anything. Keep your eyes and ears up, mate, can't afford to let it catch ya by surprise."
"Ya don't gotta tell me twice," he grumbled as the faint buzz of their comm line blinked out, leaving him alone once again. Scout sighed, took a deep breath, and shouted "OH LOOK, I'M ALL ALONE, IN A DINGY OLD BASE, WITH NO ONE AROUND, COMPLETELY VULNERABLE TA SHAPESHIFTIN' FREAKS' ATTACKS! OH, WHAT EVER WILL I DO?" His voice shook the dust off from the ceiling, falling on his shoulders and coating his jacket-
Scout spun around, bat raised high and heart racing. Nothing. It had just been the wood around him creaking. He swallowed, the racing pulse below his skin too noticeable to ignore.
D*mn, one little noise he didn't make and all that umph was gone? Now his mouth was too dry to shout. Licking his lips, Scout restarted his walk through the base, making his way towards the second floor.
"Oh look," he started, voice much smaller than before, "I'm all alone, in a dingy old base, with nobody around, and completely… completely vulnerable ta monster attacks, in a place with tight halls, and trippin' hazards, and- and broken staircases with dead ends… what. What will I… do?" Scout took another breath, and tried to swing his bat hard against the wall. It wasn't nearly as strong as last time.
What was that thing he had again? A sixth sense for trouble? Yeah, yeah that. A sixth sense that was more like a siren blaring in his head that something was going to happen.
He just didn't know when.
This map Scout made did **** all! For the fourth time, Sniper swore under his breath. These tunnels were really getting to him, that had to be it. Because the map made sense, it was clear, it had directions for everything but the places Scout hadn't been which made complete sense. It just wasn't helping him at all!
Sniper scanned the tunnel he currently stood in, letting his torch's beam light up the rock walls. It didn't look similar or unknown, it was just plain old stone. He was surrounded by the s**t! There were no little landmarks or trail markings Scout had made, and that wasn't helpful in the slightest. Now, at the time, he was helping Sniper not collapse in on himself like a Raggedy Andy, but bloody h*ll this place!
He brought the torch back over the paper map. Sniper had reached the bottom of the chasm at least fifteen minutes ago and had gone in the direction he knew they'd went the first time. He even slipped down the same slope. But now he couldn't seem to find that incredibly thin belly crawl tunnel. It was past some rather tight corridors, Sniper knew that much. As for everything else, well, he could thank his now healed concussion for the poor memory. And maybe being dead and getting shocked back to life too for good measure.
Sniper swore again. The lines on the map seemed to shake. Or was that just his grip on the torch? That faint mist his breath made wasn't helping either. Nor was that low drone from behind him.
He spun around, the beam of light cutting into the black shadows around him. No one. There was no one besides himself. Sniper swallowed, an uncomfortable prickling beginning to build on the back of his neck.
No, Scout… he just had to trust him. Trust that he could keep it away as Sniper blindly made his way through this claustrophobic hell.
His hands itched to hold his rifle and not this pointless map. His eyes darted around, staring at the world through his golden aviators, acting as a shield. Something was wrong, this was far too quiet.
Was this what Scout meant last night?
Sniper viciously swore, desperate to cut through that malicious quiet as he marched deeper into the underground labyrinth.
Miss Pauling pulled at the strands of hair that had managed to slip loose from her bun. It was a habit she'd had since her childhood. She had done it for as long as she could remember. Other children had security blankets, sucked their thumbs for comfort, she would gather up her hair in her fists and gently pull it. Maybe it was a control thing, something to ground her due to the tightness in her scalp. Either way, she thought she'd kicked the habit since The Administrator made Miss Pauling her assistant.
Apparently not.
The secretary curved to avoid a tree in her path. This was the fifth lap she had made around the bases and so far, no flare. Had something happened to the Australian? To Scout? Her fingers itched towards her earpiece. It had been a bit since she'd checked on them. Though, if something had happened, they would have let her know, right? She specifically drilled that into them.
But Sniper did have a tunnel vision problem on occasion, especially when he was sniping. And Scout was easily distracted in the heat of the moment. So maybe they would forget to check in?
Miss Pauling came to a stop, the jeep hitching in response. She turned to her right and looked towards the towering blue building. Somewhere in there was her mercenary, and below her were the rest of her men. She looked up into the deep gray sky. No flares. No rain either.
They had said that liquid hurts Connery? Or weakened him in some way. It turned him back into a man, was that what they'd said? She couldn't quite remember.
She pulled at her hair some more before grabbing her steering wheel again-
Miss Pauling snapped to her left, pistol out and at the ready, pointed at the bushes that had rustled so suddenly. She then eased back when what jumped out was nothing but another one of those rabbits. Slightly angry but more relieved, the secretary sat back, putting her weapon back on safety.
The critter's nose twitched as it stood, sniffing the air and staring at Miss Pauling with a side eye. Its coat was a dirty grass brown, and it's body was slim, much thinner than household pet rabbits. She'd always liked domesticated rabbits, they were soft, quiet(mostly), and occasionally had nice spots on their bodies. This one did not have those. It was a wild one. A rather bold wild rabbit considering that it was still sitting there out in the open. It wasn't even grazing, just there watching her from the side.
Miss Pauling forced herself to look away and start the jeep again. She shouldn't be so worried, they were battle hardened mercenaries, they could handle themselves. Mostly. She needn't be so worried. If they needed to tell her something, then they would have done so already.
"Miss Pauling." Speak of the devil. The assistant jumped at the sudden voice but promptly turned on her mic.
"Yes, what's your status, Scout?" She asked. No answer. "Scout?"
"Hey, Miss P," Scout said again. Miss Pauling frowned. Then froze, eyes wide with her hand up against her earpiece. A deep cold began to crawl up her spine as the sound of wet tearing met her ears. Slowly, she lowered her hand, reaching for her pistol.
"What an unexpected surprise," came his voice again, devoid of the static of their comms. She closed her eyes, taking a deep and even breath.
Then snapped around and pulled the trigger.
