The echo of the gunshot was spun into the thunder erupting from the sky as Miss Pauling leapt from her vehicle. Behind her, the painful howl of her fake mercenary followed, adding to the deafening noise. The assistant, hand locked tightly on her pistol, broke into a dead sprint towards the base.
The ground beneath her feet sagged and caused her to slip and stumble, and with each hitch Miss Pauling's heart rate spiked. She reached for her earpiece, fingers trembling as it was turned on.
"Guys," she cried out, "Connery's here! He-" her communication line lit up in static and worried voices.
"Where are you?" She heard Sniper ask, his tone serious. Miss Pauling heard the real Scout ask the same thing.
"I'm heading to the base," the ground was growing firmer and her legs were beginning to strain, "he's following me, if I can lead him into the building-"
"On my way," Scout said, "don't let dat thing reach you, Mis-" His voice was cut off as Miss Pauling felt something slam into her side. The weight knocked her off her feet, sending her through the air and tumbling into the dirt. As she landed, she felt her earpiece get knocked loose along with her glasses. Blurriness surrounded her along with pain thumping through her ribs and hip.
Miss Pauling pushed herself to her elbows, feeling around the grass for her glasses or pistol. Nothing. To her right she heard someone walking up to her, grass crinkling underfoot.
"M̷̦̣͒͛̿͗͌̏͒i̷̼͍̯͈̓͗̉́̑̒̚ş̵̦̪͇̇̑s̶̢̼̼̓̈́̔̽̔͒ ̸̨̡̠͔̗̮͔̓͐͋͂͝͝P̴̨̰̖͉̹̂?" Scout asked. No, it wasn't just him, there was another voice layered underneath. A statement, a sly cunning voice. She kept searching, sparse raindrops falling on her shaking hand. "Ȃ̸̫ͅb̸̜̺̓̈́o̶̱͈̊̔u̷̱̠͊ṫ̶̻̪̚ ̶̹̓̃ṯ̸͐i̴̦̝̒m̷͚̿̎ḛ̸͒͠.̶̺̮͋͂ ̸̳̊S̵̗͍̿ȯ̷̬̑r̷̢̈r̶͓̄͊y̴̘̓ ̷̛̰̈f̷͉͈̿ọ̸̹̇r̷͍̕-̷̙̩̈́̐ ̸̼̉͝ǹ̸̟o̵̭͌͘t̶͈̤̅̊ ̴̼̀ŗ̷̢̀̒e̶͇͒͝ã̶͍l̷̘͆͝l̷̲̙͊y̸̗̫̿̿." A hand grabbed her shoulder, and forced her onto her back and looked up into Scout's face. The mercenary was unmistakable, even through her poor eyesight. Though there was one difference. The real Scout's eyes were blue, not brown like the one standing above her with a sneer.
"Ỳ̴ͅö̸̬ũ̸͚ ̸̜̿s̴͈̈h̷̬͊o̴̢͒ȕ̶̝l̷̢̂ḏ̵͐n̶̡̕'̴̱͒t̸̪̓ ̴̘̐h̵̛̦ả̷̻v̸̼̕e̴̬͊ ̶̠͝g̵̦̔o̸̾ͅt̶̲̑t̷̩͠e̴̳̔ṉ̵͆ ̵̩͗i̸͎̓n̷̮̔v̴̡͝o̷̹̾l̸̲̂v̶̰̈é̷̙d̶̢͌,̶̇͜" Scout spat, his voice far more prominent than Connery's. "Ÿ̵̻́ò̷̻ȕ̵͙ ̶͜͝s̶̰̐ȟ̴̳ö̵̯́u̸͙̇l̷̝͒d̸̼͛n̶̥̍'̵̳̽t̴̢̃ ̸̞̒b̴͇͠e̸̱͐ ̴̢̈́h̵̗̐e̴̙̓ŕ̶͈e̸̱̔." Miss Pauling drew back and socked him when the creature got closer. All that seemed to do was make him more aggravated. The runner bared his teeth, then seemed to freeze. And then he grinned in a way that Scout never would, a way that made Miss Pauling try to crawl away from the man, blood running cold. But it didn't work as the thing wearing her mercenary's face sprung forwards, shoving her into the dirt. She scratched and scrambled, trying to brace her mind from the panic building in it as Scout's smile was growing bigger and bigger until the corners of his mouth reached the top of his head and thousands of serrated teeth glistened through.
She hadn't meant to scream, but that desperation no doubt helped get a certain runner to her faster. The exact second after Miss Pauling screamed, the monster above her looked up at something she couldn't see and it's eyes widened. Then an aluminum bat cracked against its head.
The sound echoed through the air as Scout collapsed to his side. An arm hooked itself around her own and ripped her to her feet. Miss Pauling looked to her side and there was Scout, the real one.
"RUN!" He shouted, pushing her towards the base, "go, just go!" She ran. The assistant dashed and made it to the entrance. Grabbing the frame, she thrust herself forwards, soaking her shoes and pants. Where to hide? Where to hide? THERE! A pile of broken beams and fallen ceiling boards made a cover just big enough for her to hide behind. Miss Pauling leapt over the mess and flattened herself against the ground.
Muffled roars and shouts, words she couldn't make out through the now steady rainfall outside. From where she hid, Miss Pauling couldn't see the entrance, she was stuck looking at the ceiling, leaking cold droplets into her hiding place. Plip, plip, plip.
Soon that was the only noise she could hear, that steady pattern and the muffled roar of the outside world. There was no shouting, no swearing, nothing. Miss Pauling reached for her earpiece before remembering it's fate. Her pulse quickened. Had he been caught? Was their plan really unfurling so quickly, after so many hours of planning? All of it gone to waste because she hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings?
The splashing of water approaching her hiding place sent a rush of adrenaline shooting through Miss Pauling's veins. She painfully tugged at her hair, her bun falling into disarray. Whether it was Scout or not, she didn't know, but whoever it was was approaching fast. Incredibly fast. Too fast.
Miss Pauling pushed herself into the rubble behind her when the figure flung himself into the hiding place. He was panting, then near screamed when Miss Pauling flung herself at him, pushing him into the ground and pinning his wrists.
"Holy s**t," Scout breathed, the blurriness of his face formed into fear, "holy s-"
"Shut up!" Miss Pauling hissed, covering his mouth with her hand. She made to check his pulse, to see if her merc really was her merc and not Connery putting up an act, but that wasn't needed. A cry of rage and Soldier's voice thundered through the base, causing her hair at the back of her neck to stand up. She wasn't given any time to prepare as Scout yanked her close, keeping the two of them out of sight.
With her head pushed up against his chest, Miss Pauling could feel the runner's heart beating faster than a locomotive's engine. Well, if the horrible choir of her employees' voices wasn't enough to prove that this Scout was actually Scout, this certainly was. Her peace of mind was short lived as the splashing water drew closer to their hiding spot. Scout's heart beat even faster if that was possible, and she found herself tugging at her hair.
"This is my world," Miss Pauling heard growling, "you are not welcome in MY WORLD!" The pair hardly held back a cry of fear as a beam exploded into the wall above them. As splinters coated them, the heavy splashes began to fade deeper into the base, followed by nasty German mutterings.
"...you okay?" Scout whispered. Miss Pauling tentatively sat up, hunched to keep hidden. She then nodded as she redid her bun.
"I'm fine," she said, "it caught me off guard."
"Yeah, and ya dropped these," looking up, Miss Pauling spotted between the runner's fingers her glasses. "I swear, you too need ta stop losin' your glasses. First it's Snipes, now- crap, Snipah!" Scout flicked down his microphone, frantically hissing. "Snipah, dude, are yo- holy crap, lower your freakin' voice, my guy, you're gonna get us caught!" The marksman's voice was so loud that even Miss Pauling could hear his furious words through Scout's headset.
"Well it's not my fault we got preoccupied with dat thing," Scout argued quietly, "how was I supposed ta know dat I'm supposed ta keep callin' ya 24/7?"
…
"...okay, yeah, dat sounds bad, but she's okay! She's right- does she have her earpiece? Uhh," Scout met her eyes, and Miss Pauling shook her head as she slipped on her glasses. "No, I think she lost it in da scuffle."
"We don't have time to sit around, Scout," she stated, fixing her eyes on her now clear mercenary, "we have to stick with the plan. Connery is now in the base looking for us, and if you don't get it's attention, it could look through the caves and find Sniper, we need to move." The runner paused, twiddling with his headset. Then, his shoulders fell as he nodded.
"Yeah, you're right. Always are," Scout stretched his head up, looking out into the open. "I gotta get back out there. You'll hafta go back ta da jeep once I get it away from ya; you should be safe dat way." The solemness of his tone caused Miss Pauling to pause. She then lightly took his shoulder.
"You're faster," was what she said, "that's why you're The Scout, that's why I chose you over more experienced mercenaries." The runner looked back to her, eyes lightly darting in their locked gaze. He then gave a weak grin.
"Gee, and here I thought it was cause a my natural charm and handsome gob."
"Maybe that helped," she replied, completely unaware of the deep red forming in the Bostonian's ears. "Now, when are you going to-"
"Yawannagoonadatewithme?" The assistant paused, stuttering to a halt. Turning back, Scout looked just as confused as she felt.
"Sorry, what?"
"Not now," Scout continued, rubbing his neck and refusing to meet her eyes, "like, after all a this. Like, a real one, not like da one with da whole bread crap. When we win, do you wanna… y'know, do it? Not- not it, dat's not what I meant-"
"No, what did you say the first time, I couldn't understand you," Miss Pauling cut him off. Her companion took a deep breath, and mumbled his answer.
"Go out with me. After this. When ya got da time. Would ya?"
"...I don't think now's the time to be worried about that, Scout," she managed to say with her incredibly dry mouth.
"Oh- yeah, yeah, totally, yeah, I was just- gotchagotcha, I'm goin-, get ready ta run, right?" Scout muttered, looking back out into the corridor, "just… yeah, gotta get-"
"Maybe."
"I- what?"
"I said maybe," Miss Pauling stated after clearing her throat, "I'll consider it. Though my answer will most likely be affected by your survival." Scout was still, eyes wide.
"Like, for real?" He asked, unable to keep the very obvious hope from his shaking voice, "you mean all dat?" Miss Pauling felt herself nod before any thought entered her head.
"Yes, now go," she ordered, "we can't let Connery get to Sniper!" The runner stiffened.
"Oh crap, right, okay I'm goin', and, Miss P?" The secretary looked over at Scout, who was crouched and ready to spring into the open. He was wearing a soft grin, one that was small but nowhere near as fragile as his last.
"Thanks," Scout said. She nodded, and with that Scout leapt out, shouting.
"HEY UGLY," the runner bashed his bat against the wall, sending the foundation shaking, "ARE YA REALLY DAT BLIND, MAN, YOU'RE PATHETIC!" A ferocious roar shook dust and water from the ceiling, and Scout gestured for her to go, shouting "FOR A GUY WHO CAN GROW HUNDREDS OF EYES, YA SURE AIN'T VERY OBSERVANT, ARE YA!?" Miss Pauling darted from her hiding place, rushing past Scout and towards the outside. Leaping from the doorway, rain pelted her shoulders like her feet against the sodden ground. Behind her, Scout's voice grew fainter along with the furious clammer of his teammates spitting curses. Before her sat her jeep, and in a flash she hoisted herself into the front seat.
The ignition was started and the rush of the engine filled Miss Pauling's ears as she put the pedal to the metal. Hands shaking, hair messy and clothing in disarray, the assistant began her rounds once more, searching for the marksman's flare. Waiting for his signal, waiting for any sign of success.
Her scalp began to sting from the constant pulling of her hair.
Dark. Dark, dreary, moist, and loud. It was truly surprising how loud everything was underground, even the supposed silence. His boots clicking against the wet stone, the light buzz of his torch, and his own shallow breathing. Sniper cursed, listening to his colorful language bounce off the walls.
It hadn't even been half an hour and things were already going to s**t. At least they were safe, for now. Or Miss Pauling was. It had attacked her, the b*****d. Of course it went as low as to go after the one lass who had no prior experience with it, and who was also a lady. Sniper's might have no qualms about taking contracts for either sex, but when it came down to it, well… and it wasn't as if he didn't think she could take care of herself, no, of course not, that wasn't it, it was just… compared to everything happening, and their own experience on the battlefield and in the deep undercurrents of humanity, Miss Pauling was a greenhorn, simple as.
But she was fine, Scout himself had said so, do doubt having gone and helped her in that regard. Speaking of Scout, the boy hadn't made any calls for a good while, neither of them had. Their communication had died and died hard, leaving the marksman with no one but himself to traverse and locate his team, having nothing but hope that the plan was still in action.
Sniper sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hope was such a lousy thing, honestly. Straightening up, the Australian once again turned on his earpiece, listening to the static build up. Well, it was better than that low drone this narrow tunnel made. Pushing himself deeper into the dark, Sniper swallowed the dryness in his throat and began to speak.
"Oy, Scout, do you copy," he started, speaking low as to not disturb the deathtrap of stone above him, "or Miss Pauling, either or would be nice. A status update, perhaps, if that's not too much of a hassle?"
Nothing. The spike in his pulse didn't prove anything, it was just the environment he was in, yes, just because the lad wasn't responding didn't mean he was suddenly being ripped to shreds. Or worse. Or…
Sniper shook his head, trying to dislodge any fears of unknowns from his mind. Focus. Just focus, if he got too distracted on getting a response, he would just get himself more lost than he already was and waste the time he could be spending getting his team free. Just push past that horrible cocktail of pins and needles whenever he got to thinking about the action currently happening on the surface. Scout was doing his job, so was Miss Pauling, it was about time he focused on doing his own correctly.
And he had every intention of doing so, problem was that his earpiece erupted into a garbled mess of words in a Boston accent and d*mnit, if something happened up there-
"Scout, whot's going on up there, you pulling through?" Sniper asked, gingerly sliding down a minor slope. The runner's words were mashed together like a demonic curse, or simply sleep muddled. "Kid, speak slower, can't understand a word you're saying."
"Miss Pauling's got back ta her car, and right now I'm hidin' again," Scout whispered rapidly, "so far it's slow enough for me ta get outta sight fast enough, but I don't know how long I can keep this round a hide and seek goin'."
"Right," Sniper replied, scanning the damp walls with his light, "Oi'm trying to get down there fast as possible mate, but your map isn't doing much for me. At all." Over the line he could feel Scout deflate.
"Oh… but you're okay though, right? Like, ya ain't gettin' stuck on nothin' like before or nothin', right?"
"Oi've been down here before, and Oi now know where the exits are, so no, Oi'm not having bloody panic attacks."
"Oh dat's what they're called," the runner spoke like a dark veil had been lifted, "I just thought dat… I dunno, but I thought panic attacks were just da weapon, y'know?"
"Y'mean Engie's crumby shotguns?" Sniper near laughed, "so whoi did you think they were called that?"
"I don't freakin' know, dude, it's one a those things ya don't think about, like why there's a planet called Uranus or some s**t, man."
"Well, Oi don't know whoi it's called that either," the marksman said as the tunnel began to narrow. It felt familiar even if it didn't look familiar.
"So…" he heard Scout begin after a while, most likely having to hide his voice, "those were panic attacks you got down there da first time?" Sniper sighed.
"Oi don't know," he admitted, slipping off his backpack to fit through the continuously narrowing gap, "Oi jus' had trouble thinking straight, really. Couldn't seem to rationalize anything at the time."
"...Ever had dat thing happen where ya couldn't breathe right?" Scout asked. The marksman paused, rolling the question over in his mind.
"Yes," Sniper whispered, almost to himself. On the other end he heard Scout sigh through his nose.
"Me too."
"When?"
"At… h*ll, there were a lotta places," Scout's voice was light, although the tightness of his tone gave the runner away, "Landfall, here, just… at night, too, I guess."
"Oi'm sorry to hear that," and he meant it because he could believe it. Scout only had one reason to lie now: to save face, and that face he would try to save had already died some days ago for Sniper. So the kid had episodes near everywhere they went, and no doubt it was something he felt he had to hide. And as much as it hurt to admit, perhaps it was best for him to hide it until now. The marksman heard his younger companion hum.
"I mean, none of them ever killed me, so… I guess it ain't too bad, just kinda… y'know."
"Yeah, Oi know." The line went quiet as Sniper ducked into another tight squeeze. It felt like he was making progress. If only he knew for certain. Maybe looking at the ground or keeping his eyes closed for so long the first time wasn't such a good idea. Well, hindsight is twenty twenty.
"Hey, Mick?" Scout's radio tuned voice seeped into his earpiece after a turn.
"Whot's up?" Sniper asked, keeping his eyes locked on the pathway ahead. At first, the kid said nothing, and the continuing silence was doing something to the marksman's heart rate.
"...what'll happen when da guys're freed?" The runner sounded quiet, and almost shy, to ask the question. Sniper furrowed his brow. Had the kid forgotten their plan due to stress? He didn't remember that ever happening to him, only regressing when he was sick, and Scout had said himself that he'd lied about his amnesia, the not-caused-by-a-fever kind.
"Oi don't mean to assume things, but are you talking about the plan or…?"
"No, just… it's stupid, a stupid brain thing again, tellin' me things dat ain't true."
"Whot kind of things?" Sniper asked. Scout sighed again, far more audible than last time.
"Nah," he said, "I don't wanna bog ya down, you'll think it's stupid too and you'll all be like "jeez, Scout, why'd ya think somethin' so freakin' stupid?" and I'll be like "ey, you asked! And I know it's stupid, so shut up!" and we'll get distracted and killed. Well, you might, I can't die, got too much at stake."
"Like whot?" Sniper slipped back on his backpack, tired of carrying it in one hand.
"Like a real, straight up date, how about dat for a stake?" The marksman froze, eyes wide.
"You didn't. She didn't say yes, did she?"
"Well, no," Scout admitted, "but she said she'd think about it. And dat's better than a no, right?"
"Oi suppose so," Sniper agreed. He then took a breath. "Look, Scout, whot's on your mind? We can't afford to have you get distracted by your own thoughts, now do we?"
"You guys are da ones tellin' me ta think all da time," Scout grumbled, "and like I said, it's just stupid brain pranks on me, it happens all da time. It's what got me thinkin' about turnin' into a monster was, thinkin' you'd hate me for a bunch a reasons, and just… it ain't worth da time, y'know?"
"...Jeremy, those "brain pranks" of yours nearly got you killed," Sniper softly pointed out, "you hardly had the strength to bloody wake up, let alone stand by yourself. Oi think Oi have enough reason to think it's worth the time, lad." When there was no response for the longest time, Sniper grew tense. Just the low static of his device in the still, stale cave air. But then he realized what was wrong.
"Ah, right, ya go by Jay, right, sorry bout that," he tried to correct.
"Yeah," Scout sounded… strange. Not strained, or mad, but… confused? Or withholding something. "Yeah, full name's for family, yeah… actually, uh, about dat. My name, dat bein' my name, 'm mean. I don't, uh, don't really- and don't take this da wrong way or nothin', like a weird way, which you might- not sayin' dat you will, but… Look, I don't min- HOLY ****!-" The runner's voice was cut off into painful static, and Sniper felt his blood freeze over.
"Scout? Scout!?"
"Go find da guys- GET DA **** AWAY FROM ME!-" the crackling sound of an aluminum bat hitting something erupted through the comm, "aw crap, aw crap- look, just go, man! I'll hold this b***h off!" And with that, Scout was gone, leaving Sniper alone with the dark once again. He quickened his stride, thousands of thoughts spinning fables in his mind.
"Bugger," Sniper hissed as he turned a corner, "ah, bugger." There it was, that wretched tunnel. Of course it was here, right when his- when Scout had to cut off. Indented in the stone wall in front of him, the shadows cutting far too deep for his torch to do any good.
No, no thinking of that now, this was the last major obstacle in his way to the team. He'd gone through this and made it out, and he wasn't even the one holding the torch. It would be fine, Sniper would be fine.
He had to be.
Taking a deep breath, the marksman once again slipped off his pack and trotted to the entrance of the tunnel. Bloody h*ll, it was so thin. Ignoring the frantic beats of his heart, Sniper knelt down, tying the backpack around his calf, and entered the tunnel.
The rough floor caught his sleeves and rubbed like sandpaper against his hands. As he pulled himself along, Sniper grit his teeth together. How long did this go again? Not that it mattered, he'd get out, he'd get free. And there were too many people relying on him for the sharpshooter to get stuck on his own mental weaknesses. It was foolish, letting his emotions gain so much control over his headspace, he couldn't allow that to happen.
Except there wasn't much choice. Something was stopping him, Sniper couldn't move forwards. There was something he was caught on, what was it? What was it!? He tried to look over his shoulder and hit his head on the ceiling. He twisted around but slammed his elbows on the wall. What was he stuck on!? What dared keep him trapped here!?
Sniper pulled his legs up and felt that sharp tension kept him from moving. It was his pack, it got snagged. And he couldn't grab it, what could he do? He could try yanking himself free, though it would probably hurt like h*ll, or maybe he could crawl back to loosen his pack, but that could get him even more stuck!
"Bugger."
D*mn, d*mnit, two bloody h*lls and a bugger again, Sniper couldn't afford getting stuck! Impulsively, the Australian grit his teeth more and ripped his leg up. What followed was a worrying ripping noise and a nasty pain shooting up his leg. Ugh, it felt like a rug burn! Ignoring that, Sniper pulled himself forwards, digging his fingers into the rock for better leverage.
Just a little more, just a little further!
When he felt his fingers hook a ledge, Sniper shot out from the tunnel, swearing up a storm like the one he heard above him. His hands weren't shaking when he knelt to untie his backpack, and they continued not to shake when he found the nasty looking hole in the bag. Swallowing, Sniper ran his very still hands through his hair, pushing his hat back. Somehow it had stayed on in that man sized rat trap. He shook his head, nevermind that. Nevermind all of that, he'd made it.
The mine echoed with the sound of roaring rain and the occasional thunder crash. A faint odor of expired milk caused his nose to wrinkle, and it got worse the closer Sniper got to that webbed up mineshaft. Softly glowing and illuminating his path, the marksman walked carefully as to not step into another hidden hole like before.
Down,
Down,
Deeper and deeper.
And then he felt the ground disappear.
When he finally stopped at the bottom of the slope in the dome-like chamber, Sniper swore, half in annoyance and half in pain. Of course he still managed to fall through the one bloody hole he was specifically looking to not fall through. Sighing, Sniper got to his feet, brushing off his pants, and snatched his backpack.
It was dropped to the floor, and a quick search procured a bright red gun. He darted to the middle of the cavern, stopping in the spotlight of the ceiling's opening. Sniper raised his flare, aimed, and fired.
The shriek of the spiraling crimson comet filled the air and coated the room in a brilliant light. It flew higher and higher, a deep red chemtrail lying in its wake. And into the dark gray sky it soared. There was no way Miss Pauling could miss that.
Now, about those seven cocoons. Sniper took hold of his rifle and let its weight balance itself out in his palms. That cool steel against his callouses cleared his mind, leaving nothing but the task of finding the perfect angle. The marksman paced about, eyeing the points where webbing met stone. He stopped. Then took one more step to the left and crouched.
Safety off, Sniper peered through his scope at his target. A little more up and to the right. He waited, and waited. Three whole seconds felt like hours but when that ding met his ears, time stopped all together. Sniper braced the Machina against his shoulder, and fired.
The gunshot was deafening and the bullet burned through the webbing. Sniper stood and watched as the incendiary round quickly incinerated the cocoon. A second passed, then another when the pod finally fell.
It landed hard and Sniper winced. Hopefully whoever was in there didn't get too roughed up by that. He trotted to its side and knelt down. That all too familiar numbness filled his hands as he grabbed the cocoon. Waiting for Miss Pauling to come around with the Medigun and other supplies was a fine idea, but nobody said he couldn't get his mates out at the same time.
Sniper tightened his grip and held his breath. Time for the moment of truth.
"Don't be dead, don't be dead," he muttered as he pulled the webbing. It was tough, and soon his arms began to shake from the effort. But the walls suddenly gave and tore apart, and Sniper instantly began to hack his lungs out from the sickening stench leaking from the inside. So that explained why Scout sounded like he was dying when the kid freed him. But it didn't smell like a corpse. Blinking away the water in his eyes, Sniper looked down and his breath caught in his throat.
Limp, thin, nerves tearing through the fabric of the suit the man was wearing, Spy might as well have been dead even before Sniper checked his pulse. But he checked anyway. Pulling an arm out from the fabric coffin, and ignoring the worry building in his mind at the thinnest of the Frenchman's wrist, Sniper shoved Spy's sleeve down and felt for a pulse through his cold skin.
A moment,
Another,
The marksman felt his hands begin to shake,
No, wait, there! It could hardly be called a pulse but like h*ll that would stop him from calling it such. Sniper felt the relief fill his muscles like thousands of needles being pulled out at the same time. Grabbing the cocoon, the Australian pulled it towards the wall of the dome. After going back and grabbing his kukri, Sniper began to saw Spy out from those nasty nerves.
In no time at all, Spy, though still limp, was no longer trapped. Only sporting those disgusting nerves in his skin. Those would take a while to get out. Then he better get started.
Deciding the face was the best place to start, Sniper got to work freeing his teammate from that horrible paralysis. Slowly, each tiny string was pulled out, and with each string the man he had leaned against the stone trembled in reaction. Soon enough a small pile was amassed near Sniper's knee, but there was still no sign of movement.
Were the effects permanent? He hoped not, but that hope kept slipping away with each nerve he removed. Spy still sat against the stone, silent, with the only movement he made being his chest rising and falling.
"Oi swear, if you end up a vegetable because of this, Oi'm going to be pissed," Sniper growled, wiping a bloodied hand on his pants after pulling out the last web. "At the very least you could bloody blink or something, ya weasel, could use some good news to tell your-"
Spy's eyes moved. Or had they? The darkness did Sniper no favors and that horrible faded look the older man's irises had only made things worse. But if he had…
"Spy," Sniper lightly patted his cheek, "you alive in there-"
Spy lunged. The sudden movement startled Sniper, only just catching the right hook sent his way. He opened his mouth to speak and caught sight of the flick Spy's left hand made. A hidden knife shot out and Spy thrust it towards Sniper's throat. The marksman managed to catch that wrist too and slammed the man into the wall.
Spy pushed back, trying to rip his hands out from Sniper's ironclad grip. Sniper only sighed, he should have expected this reaction, honestly. But what he didn't expect was Spy's expression.
The older mercenary looked desperate, like a cornered animal. The lines under his eyes cut deep, and even through the tattered mask Sniper could see that his cheeks were even sharper than normal. Spy bared his teeth, eyes wide, and was talking. Well, hissing more like, in French. Sniper could only assume they were insults.
"Oy! OY, Spy, ya b*****d, calm down!" Spy did not calm down, "Oi'm not that bloody monster, calm down!" The Frenchman only continued to fight against Sniper's grip.
"Oh to h*ll with this," he grumbled before releasing Spy's wrist to deliver him a hard reality check in the form of a nasty slap. The snap of skin against cloth echoed through the dome and Spy crumpled to the ground. Sniper stiffened. S**t, he hadn't slapped him that hard, had he?
"...M**de," Spy groaned, face twisted into one of pain.
"Speak the Queen's English, will ya?" Sniper demanded, "Oi don't need a bloke chirping about in flowery, second-hand language!"
"As if you use any proper dialect other than your backwards bastardization of England's native tongue," Spy spat back, pushing himself up. Sniper instinctually wanted to snap back, trade insults and let the frog know what's what. But this was Spy, alive and talking, after over a month and whom he believed to have been dead for most of it! So instead of giving the man his due in debate, Sniper found himself grinning, and patted Spy's shoulder.
"Bloody h*ll, mate, Oi can't believe you're still in working order!" The Frenchman either ignored him, or wasn't paying attention. His eyebrows furrowed, and he was rubbing his eyes with a trembling hand. Spy then blinked rapidly, and went back to rubbing his eyes with a grimace. Sniper paused in realization.
"Right, you've gone blind," Spy stiffened, and looked up trying to meet Sniper's eyes when in reality he was staring over the marksman's right shoulder.
"How?" The agent asked, voice rough. As he cleared his throat, Sniper stammered out an explanation.
"You- you've been stuck with your eyes open for weeks, Spook, that would make anyone go blind."
"What?"
"It's not permanent," Sniper was quick to say, "once Miss Pauling gets here, we'll sort you out along with the others. Where the h*ll is she?" He stood, turning towards the hole in the ceiling. Shouldn't she have gotten here by now? Has something happened? Behind him he heard Spy muttering in French, and even if he had no idea what he was saying, Sniper agreed with it. "She should've been here by now…"
"What happened?" Spy asked after clearing his throat. It sounded painful, "Bushman, what is going on?" Sniper turned back towards the agent, who was trying to stand.
"...Do you honestly not know?"
"If I did, would I be asking you?" Touché.
"So you don't remember getting attacked by a shapeshifting freak who completely destroyed the base above us and waking up trapped in a white pod hanging upside down and unable to move or even blink? You don't remember getting stuck in your own hellish memories?" The longer Sniper talked, the more Spy's brow furrowed, and his eyes grew harsher. At the end, the Frenchman was silent, lulling over the information. He then spoke.
"...I do," Spy said near silently. There was a terror in his voice that made Sniper still, and that terror grew more apparent as he continued, "you said I 'ave been trapped for weeks, but that, no, it couldn't be weeks, it was, it was yesterday, was it not?" The marksman slowly shook his head.
"Nah, mate, it's been over a month. Oi'm sorry for taking so long," Sniper said as he sheathed his kukri, "but Oi didn't know you were still alive."
"Wait," Spy said, "then… you survived? But, how, you were ze first to-"
"There's more important things to worry about right now," he interrupted, grabbing his machina and reloading it, "for example, freeing everyone else. Oi don't know how long Scout's going to be able to-"
"Scout?" At the mention of Scout, Spy snapped his head up, and even through his blindness, managed to meet Sniper's eyes dead on.
"Yeah," Sniper nodded, "right now he's-"
"He's free?"
"Managed to escape the first time; not without some serious injuries, but he's still alive. Though Oi can't guarantee that the longer we sit around gossiping like two old spinsters! Now either work on getting to your bloody feet or stay out of moi way until Miss Pauling gets here!" Sniper's patience was fraying the longer Spy asked questions. The Frenchman glared but fell silent. Sniper sighed as he went to pick up his flare once more.
Spy being worried about Scout was only proper, Sniper was too, but they couldn't do much for the kid down here. The plan was all they had, and that plan he was sticking to. As he reloaded the flare, he heard through the downpour a rushing engine. Then a voice.
"I'm here!" Miss Pauling shouted into the dome, "I got stuck in mud but I'm here now!"
"Took your sweet bloody time, didn't ya?" Sniper deadpanned. Far above him he saw the assistant shrug sheepishly. "Well, Spy's out and about now, blind as a cooky old bat and as weak as one too." Behind him he heard Spy cuss him and his culture out.
"Hey Spy," Miss Pauling called out, voice bouncing off the walls, "are you okay?"
"I 'ave 'ad better days but thank you for your concern," Spy replied.
"Right, okay Sniper," the secretary disappeared as a rope appeared, "I'm going to start lowering all of this down there, make sure nothing breaks."
"Awright," Sniper said as he watched the hole for any upcoming supply drops. He watched, and waited, and watched some more. Then his eyes widened as he felt his stomach drop. The marksman jumped back just as Sasha crashed down, the sound blasting Sniper's eardrums. Heart pounding, he snapped his gaze up towards Miss Pauling.
"Little warning next time, yeah?"
"Sorry," she cried, "it slipped from the knot I had tied around it."
"Jus' worry about getting the rest of the supplies down, Oi'll focus on the blokes." Miss Pauling nodded, disappearing once again to lower down another weapon or crate. Sniper reloaded his rifle, then paused, and turned on his earpiece.
"Scout, ya there, kid? Got some good news!" No answer. Sniper straightened up, lowering his rifle.
"Scout, do you copy?" Scout flicked his mic up, cutting off Sniper's voice. Below him, The Counterfeit crept like a wolf. It was no longer just chasing every noise it heard, it was thinking. Plotting. On all fours meticulously searching, searching for him.
Scout watched as it paused, its several heads of people he almost recognized, cocked, listening. He held his breath, pulse beating against his eardrums. On his forehead he could feel cold beads of sweat start to build, and the limbs he had wrapped around the beam he was hiding on start to shake from the strain. That monster was so still, nothing but it's fleshy coat moving in ripples. If it grew even a single eye on it's back…
It moved, stalking into the base, mimicking a hydra with several heads scanning the walls. And soon, it was gone past the farthest corner. Scout waited for a full minute before gingerly dropping onto the ground. Landing like a cat, the runner crept around a different corner and felt his knees buckle.
He slammed into the wall, sliding down till he was resting on the floor with his head resting on the busted up wall. Scout groaned, scrubbing his face with his tired hand. For crying out loud, he needed to be a distraction, a smart mouse for a stupid cat. But it wasn't like that anymore, it wasn't falling for his teasing and jeers. It was hunting him now. He was on the defensive again! Which he shouldn't be, Scout needed to be on the offensive. Just… ugh, d*mnit, why was it so easy for him to get scared again?
The runner flicked down his mic and heard the staticky voice of his friend.
"-if you don't answer your bloody comm-"
"Was preoccupied, man," Scout mumbled, forcing himself to stand, "it's actin', like, lion-like. Like it's huntin' or somethin'." He heard Sniper curse.
"Well, you shouldn't need to stay out there too much longer, Miss Pauling and Oi are getting everything ready for you to lead it down here. Also, looks like the lads are okay," Scout let out a sigh of relief, "Spy's the only one out and about right now, and is very much alive. Unfortunately." At that, the runner huffed out a laugh.
"Dang, dude, the huy just gets free and you're already wishin' he'd stay hung up."
"Don't act like you wouldn't be wishing the exact same thing. Oi'll let you know when to lead it down."
"Got it." Scout replied as Sniper cut out. Taking in a deep breath, the runner got to his feet and took out the bat he had slipped into his backpack. Alright, that thing was completely focused on him, didn't even know Sniper was here or what he was doing. So he wouldn't need to actually get it's attention anymore until he got the message to bring it down to the cave.
Wait, was he supposed to do it from the outside or through the caves? Scout paused, listening to the rain raging through the walls. If he could get it to follow him through the downpour, that would make it weaker to the guys attacks. And the guys were alive, straight up not dead! Knowing that, Scout felt an ounce of his hesitation ease back. Now, he just needed to…
To…
His knees buckled as the world around him was plunged into darkness. The floor creaked and Scout groaned, limbs filled with pins and needles. D*mnit, not now! Not this stupid freakin'- and he wasn't even that hungry! Sure, the idea of a huge pizza was awesome right about now but that had to be nothing compared to his team downstairs. They must be starving! No doubt Miss P brought food and water for them, because otherwise they'd probably die on the spot. Hopefully there would at least be a granola bar or something left when he gets down there-
"J̴̞͆̏͌͠͠͝è̶̘r̷̨̡̠͔̱͋͒̀͌e̶̦̜̣̞͎͌̒m̶̪̿͘y̷͉̟̖͚͖̌͗͠," Scout froze, and shot to his feet as that voice echoed down the hall, "c̴̢̝͚̼͌̑͊͘͜'̶̡̲͍̉͗̎͜ͅm̵͇͍̲̃̓o̸͕͕͌͋͐̌͘͝n̵̞̖̘̘͍̼̒,̷͔̣̬͇̅̏̅̅̀̋ ̷̳̠͉̖͒̑̒͂̊̕m̵̜̫͓̭̊̐͜a̵̡̟̤̪͙͑̆̚͝ń̶͠, stop hiding!" That duet of voices merged into a deep Russian. The runner gripped his bat, swallowing down that ball of nerves that insisted on building, and maybe some nausea too. The sounds came closer, and closer. Shouldn't he be running right now!? But his feet wouldn't move, those pins and needles refusing to fade. Scout cursed, lightly smacking his legs with his bat.
"Move, c'mon," he hissed, "just lift ya stupid feet and go!" The heavy stomps were changing in tempo. Thud, thud, th-amp, stamp, stampstampstamp. It was the sound of tightly fitting boots. Scout stumbled back, gathering up all his remaining insults to use.
Medic turned the corner, and locked eyes on the runner. He chuckled and straightened up, hands behind his back. Scout glared, raising his bat.
"I knew you vere hiding somevhere," the German stated, grinning smugly. He took a step closer, and Scout planted his feet, slightly crouching. The faker was still talking, but Scout wasn't listening. The ceiling was high enough, it just needed to be a bit closer.
In an instant, Scout sprung as Medic lunged forwards, hands like claws. He leapt over its head and swung his bat down. The sound of muscle getting bent out of shape caused Scout to grin as he landed in a roll. Sparing no time, he spun around.
"Man, you're really bad at this, huh?" He faked a yawn as Medic snapped around, a cold glare sent his way, "couldn't catch a snail, my guy, d*mn, what a failure." He made to tsk, tsk, tsk but had to jump when the creature ran at him. Heart racing, Scout kicked off the wall and dashed down the hall, forcing a laugh.
"Holy crap, why da **** was I ever scared of ya, you're so wimpy!" Scout shouted, forcing his voice to remain steady. Behind him, he heard it chasing, leaping and pushing itself off the walls. He had to go faster.
Scout dug his heel into the ground and shot down another hall, just managing to jump over a fallen beam. The hole was coming up fast. The runner tightened his grip on his bat and forced himself to run faster through the ankle deep water. A beat and another passed before he reached the edge. With a hard kick, Scout was leaping over the blackened chasm and landed safely on the other side. He looked over his shoulder. The Counterfeit had paused its chase, morphing into something that could cross. Wasting no time, Scout flipped his Atomizer, and jumped onto the second floor. This was a head start he couldn't take for granted.
"J̴̞͆̏͌͠͠͝è̶̘r̷̨̡̠͔̱͋͒̀͌e̶̦̜̣̞͎͌̒m̶̪̿͘y̷͉̟̖͚͖̌͗͠," a wrathful growl erupted from the floorboards and Scout bit back a scream as the floor behind him exploded into splinters. A body ripped itself up, looking almost normal. The runner sneered.
"Yup, dat's my name, don't wear it out!" Scout ran. He ran through the debris, through doors and he knew that the staircase to the third level was here somewhere. Which corridor was it down? He skidded to a halt in front of a door. No, this was a dead end! He shot back and into another hall. This was the shooting range, mostly untouched but still very much a dead end. Scout swore, and shot back out. D*mnit, with each wrong turn he was losing his lead! He could hear it, calling his name, his full name! How did it know that!? His memories? Someone else's? Who exactly-
"AH-" the floor beneath his feet snapped, sending him through the sodden floorboards and landing hard on the flooded first floor. Water filled his mouth, sending Scout coughing and sputtering. The cold dirty water was now soaked completely through his clothes, and as he groaned, more water entered his mouth from his now dripping hair. Scout rolled onto his back, wincing at the pain it caused. Man, he'd landed bad. Really bad, if that blistering stinging in his ankle was anything to go by. Looking down, Scout sighed. Great, his ankle was busted. And it was the exact same one-
"Hoo-wee, would ya look at that?" A Texan accent floated down, causing Scout to crawl away from the hole he'd made. Engie dropped down, creating a splash. He didn't seem pleased with the water, kicking away the liquid as it was polluted with that opal film coming off the man's shoes. But he simply shrugged and looked up at Scout with a lazy smirk.
"Aw," the Texan said, slowly walking forwards, "now you don't look like a happy camper."
"Get away from me!" Scout barked, lobbing a piece of wood he's grabbed. The Engineer simply laughed as it bounced off him. Then, his face fell into one of seriousness.
"Scout," he said lowly, "you yellah-bellied snake."
"Shut up!" Scout couldn't get to his feet, Engi- the thing that only looked like Engie was approaching too fast.
"Hey, look buddy," he continued to speak, stalking closer and closer, weaving lies through his teeth. It wasn't him, it wasn't Engineer!
"I said shut up!" The runner roared, watching his teammate who he had trapped, who he had sentenced to death, continue to approach him.
"They're dyin'," he said softly, "all a them. Down under. While… you'RE meddlin' in mah business."
"They ain't dyin'," Scout hissed, still defiant towards the man standing above him. Engie sighed, shaking his head.
"Son, you know whut this means, right? You are a coward."
"No I'm not!" Engie only shook his head, crouching down to Scout's level. The glass of his goggles made it impossible for the runner to see the man's eyes. His expression was almost pitiful.
"A coward and a scoundrel. And I'm done playin' games, boy." The man smirked, revealing his teeth and how unusually sharp they were. He stood up, towering over the runner, who still tried to back up.
Then,
Something happened. The Engineer in front of him changed. Scout knew it would happen, but this felt different. The way the creature acted at it's transformation made it seem like it was involuntary. It stared down at itself, twisting and peering at different parts of its body as Engie was twisting back into that blank rippling canvas.
"Whut in tarnaaaaAAAAA-ti-ti-tionnn?" The accent bled away into a broken voice devoid of character. And soon, there was no Engineer, and no Medic when it attempted to change into him. No Heavy, Demo, Spy, Pyro, and no Soldier. It was distracted by itself. Scout pushed himself up and onto his feet, limping backwards but unable to look away from the sight before him.
The Counterfeit was spinning around, changing colors and heights, snarling and growling with its anger growing louder and louder. Then, it snapped its head up and curled its fists, snarling.
"YOU! WhAT DId yoU DO!?" Scout stumbled back, grabbing something from his chest and bringing it to his mouth, "whaT's going- happhapppeennning!?" The taste of a metal pin in his teeth. Scout ripped it out. The monster in front of him growled and lunged, howling in rage. That was when Scout threw his grenade.
It hit the creature's head, snapping it back from the force as Scout darted away. He ducked behind a part of the ceiling hanging down, and winced at the boom that he just narrowly escaped. The screams of pain and fury followed and Scout couldn't help but sneak a glance.
It was blistering, and its left arm had been blown off. Stumbling to its feet, the Counterfeit groaned and made inhuman noises. The arm, however, was growing, blooming, into something else. In a matter of seconds, the hall was occupied with two shapeshifters. The taller one, upon spotting the second, snapped at it.
"Go," it ordered, "into ThE below. ST OP tttttthissssss." The shorter looked towards Scout, and he stiffened at the eyes he met. As a chill ran up his spine, the shorter dashed away, presumably towards the chasm. Scout shot to his feet and ran away too. Ankle spiking in pain with each step he took, the runner flicked his microphone down, listening for the sound of a monster chasing him.
"Snipah," Scout shouted, "heads up, you're gonna have company!"
"Whot's that supposed to mean?" Sniper demanded to know, handing another bottled water to Heavy, who took it without a word. He didn't think cutting down his team would have been the easy part, but compared to what he had to do now, it was a piece of bloody cake! No, the hard part had been keeping the half starved and dehydrated mercenaries from killing each other while they were still getting those nerves out! "Pyro, help hold the good doctor down, will ya?" The masked mercenary shook her head and was currently cowering in the corner of the cave.
It turns out that complete hatred wasn't the only emotion those webs made, since Demoman was a blubbering mess, Pyro was scared stiff, and Soldier was a manic maniac.
A little ways away, Medic, shouting in furious German, was busy trying to get himself loose from Soldier's grip and go back to strangling Spy. For what reason, Sniper didn't know, it didn't matter either way.
"Medic, please," Miss Pauling pleaded, trying to grab one of the nerves still embedded in the mad doctor, "just calm down, you're not thinking clearly!"
"I mean dat there's two now," Scout shouted through Sniper's earpiece, "and one's headed your way! Probably through da caves so get ready!"
"Aw h*ll," he muttered. Sniper looked back towards the team. In their current state, hardly any would be able to fight. "And you can't distract it for jus' a bit longer?"
"I have my own freakin' problems!" Scout shrieked. The marksman swore again, rubbing his eyes.
"Fine! Keep at least one away, can you do at least that much!?"
"For how long?" Scout asked desperately.
"Long as possible while Oi get these lousy blokes to stop trying to kill each other for five seconds!" And with that, he switched off his comm and faced the pandemonium.
"Demo, get yer sorry *ss up, d*mnit!" Engie growled, one hand hooked under the Scotsman's arm. The cyclops didn't respond, only continuing to wail about his being a cyclops and a sorry excuse for a demolitions expert.
"You're going to have to get those nerves out of him first," Sniper explained for the third time. To his left, Medic slammed his head back into Soldier's face, loosening the patriot's grip and launching himself at Spy. The Frenchman couldn't react in time as he was smashed into the ground with the doctor's fingers clamped around his throat. Both were screaming German obscenities at the other.
"Oy, get off him- not now, Pyro!" Sniper snatched his arm away from the limping mess of… whatever Pyro was. The enigma still had nerves suck all along his back and shoulders, apparently whoever was working on him had decided to call it quits, and he had an idea of who it was.
The masked mystery was gesturing wildly, or maybe speaking sign language? Sniper didn't know and right now Demo was getting manhandled by Engineer and Medic was killing Spy.
'Ugh, Heavy, mate, get the kraut off the frog, will ya?" The russian, thank the good lord, was the only one who Miss Pauling had managed to get free of all the nerves. He walked over to the battling Europeans and, with some ease(even with his weakened state), ripped the pair apart and held them like two misbehaving kittens.
"I think he wants his flamethrower," Miss Pauling said as she narrowly avoided a swift kick from Medic. Sniper massaged his temples, muttering what could have been words to himself.
"-Just a one-eyed bloody MONSTAH-"
"-Wenn du mich nicht SOFORT gehen lässt!-"
"-Miss Pauling, my nose is broken-"
"-Je vais te tuer, et ce sera une mort lente-"
"-Look, Soldier, I'm kind of busy just-"
"-A grown *ss man, and here you are sittin' feelin' sorry fer yerself-"
A shrill, deafening whistle shot through the air, causing the men to wince in pain. Everyone froze, eyes wide and looked towards him. Well, now that their bloody attention was on him.
"Listen," Sniper shouted, not giving the other mercenaries(and assistant) the chance to speak, "we do not have the time for any of this tripe! Right now Scout's up on the surface keeping whot kept you ungrateful lot trapped distracted while we-'' he pointed at Miss Pauling and himself- "freed you! And he jus' told me that one of them, there's two, is comin' home to roost, so if you could act like adults for ten minutes of your second chance at life and get a bloody grip on yourselves, then maybe we'll actually survive when it gets down here!"
"And just whut exactly do you expect us to do?" Engie barked back, his normally mellow temper brimming from artificial emotions. The marksman narrowed his eyes.
"Follow moi orders," Sniper pointedly looked over at Soldier, who was picking at some webs sticking out from his hand. "Soldier," the patriot snapped to attention, grinning widely, "you and Miss Pauling focus on getting Doc, Truckie, and Pyro back in their right mind. Heavy, Demo, Spy, get your weapons ready and keep an eye on that," he pointed to the hole in the ceiling, "and that," he then pointed to the cave's entrance.
"And vhy should ve listen to you," Medic spat, trying to rip himself from Heavy's grip, "ze one person who escapes unharmed?"
"He ain't the only one," Engineer said darkly, "he's workin' with Scout, the lil' backstabbin' traitor. How do we know this wasn't some big scheme that you two were involved in?"
"Oh come on, Dell, that's ridiculous," Miss Pauling tried to interject, but Spy was quick to give his own piece of mind.
"And what likelihood would Scout be involved in a scheme of this caliber?" Spy deadpanned, fixing his collar from where Heavy had held him. Engineer sneered at the taller man.
"Well, considerin' the fact that the snake locked me and Demo up with the creature without even a whiff of remorse, and considerin' he's the b*****d son of the biggest d*mn backstabber on this team," Spy stiffened, "Ah'd say pretty d*mn likely," was all the builder could say before his head snapped to the side from the punch Spy gave, and that set everyone off. Once again the chamber was filled with screaming men, and Sniper's patience was hanging by a thread.
"Doktor, please," Heavy pleaded for his friend to see reason, "wat Sniper says is truth, we cannot argue over dis foolishness!" The marksman shoved the noise into the background as he went to collect the few sane men, one who was currently scuffling with Engineer like a dog, their weapons. As he opened the crate meant for Soldier, Sniper continued to hear Medic shout in anger.
"I am not taking orders from a man who's so unbelievably schupid that he actually believes he's a full blooded Australian!" Sniper snapped around, staring daggers at the German. He made to lay into the man, patience completely depleted. But Miss Pauling beat him to it.
"Sorry about this, Medic," she said as she jabbed a syringe into the man's neck, "but you need to calm down." The man squirmed around but whatever was in the needle was already working it's magic. Medic went limp and everyone froze.
"Miss Pauling, you did not… poison Medic, yes?" Heavy asked, worried over the ragdoll-like body of his friend in his hands. She shook her head.
"No, it was a tranquilizer. I figured that some of you would be violent, so I came prepared. He'll be fine. Now," she clapped her hands, "we need to get ready. Sniper had the right idea, Soldier, help me with them." It was then that the group noticed Engineer was also slumped cold against the floor. That explains why it was so quiet all of a sudden.
"Sir, yes sir!" Soldier saluted with a grin before grabbing both Engie and Medic and hoisting the men over his shoulder. As he followed Miss Pauling who was gathering up Pyro, Sniper turned to the others.
"Right, get your weapons," Sniper said, "Demo, get over here so Oi can get the rest of those out."
"Whot are we going ta be able ta do?" The Scotsman asked, his one eye welling with fat tears, "we've got no way ta escape if it goes ta s**te!"
"It won't go to s**t," Sniper reassured, hands growing numb from the nerves he was grabbing, "we got ambushed last time, this time we're waiting for it, can't sneak up on us now." The marksman removed a nerve or two when he felt himself getting crushed into a hug. "Demo! Not the time!"
"Aye thought ye died, lad!" Demo cried, "ye weren't answering yer comm! An' then Scout comes along saying everyone else was killed too! An' then he leaves-"
"Well, if it's any consultation, he felt really bad about that," Sniper croaked, trying to twist himself free. "Now let me go so we can-"
"Incoming!" Heavy shouted. The marksman along with the others watched as something dropped from the hole in the ceiling. It landed with a solid thud. Everyone stared in varying shades of horror and disgust as the body twisted into a standing position, and Sniper grimaced at its appearance.
It was soaked from the rain, and the wettest parts were patches of normal skin, the rest was deep red churning muscles. As it straightened up, its face came into view, revealing streaks of a person Sniper instantly recognized. And it appeared that the others recognized him too.
"Scout?" Heavy instinctually lowered his minigun, and Spy's eyes widened.
"Why are you here, private?" Soldier barked, yanking a nerve out from Pyro's back, earning a yelp, "Your intel was that a monster was advancing, not your skinny *ss!"
BANG! The shapeshifter's head exploded from the force of the bullet Sniper shot. The clang of an empty cartridge followed as Sniper reloaded his rifle.
"That is not Scout!" He shouted to his team, "that's it!
Heavy was the first to react. He revved up his gun, and Soldier ran to grab one of his weapons. Neither of them were fast enough.
The Counterfeit roared and lunged at Sniper. He ducked to the ground, feeling the air rush over his head and heard something clatter against the floor. The creature hit the wall, and began to scale the stone, growing in size and limb count.
"It is disturbing!" Heavy said, pulling Sniper to his feet, "wat is monster?"
"A man!" Miss Pauling called out, trying to pull out as many nerves from Medic as possible, "or it was."
"Man, monster, bag of marbles, it doesn't matter," Soldier shouted, pumping his shotgun, "we're sending it to the grave, men!" He charged the beast, blasting away. The buckshot only served to make the creature angier. It climbed up higher, until it hung from the ceiling, away from the group, snarling and… not doing anything. Heavy revved up his gun once more, but Sniper flagged him down.
"Wait," he said, never taking his eyes off the monster, "something's up."
"Yes. It is." Heavy grumbled. Demo nodded, pulling out nerves on his own. Sniper stared up at the Counterfeit, who was staring right on back. Only it wasn't, at least, not completely. It's four pairs of eyes were shifting, changing, into brown, then blue, then brown again. And with the changes came different expressions. Brown would lock onto one target with narrowed eyes, repeatedly focusing in on Spy and Miss Pauling, blue would dart around with wide eyes, only ever stopping on himself or Miss Pauling again. Anger, fear, to anger again. And then it locked eyes with Sniper once more. They were thundercloud blue, and they glared.
Snapping and twisting flesh retreated into itself as The Counterfeit shrunk back into its original form. Then, it growled, and dropped.
"Come on!" Demo grabbed Sniper's arm and pulled him away, clearly underestimating their combined weight. They toppled to the ground as the Counterfeit landed right where Sniper was mere moments ago. It roared and darted around Heavy as the Russian man attempted to grab it. It leapt at Soldier and grabbed him. Soldier shouted, enraged, and punched his assailant repeatedly. It did nothing. And Soldier soon dropped limp as the creature let go.
BANG! The Counterfeit's shoulder blasted away, leaving it screaming in pain. Somewhere in the cacophony of shouts and noise, Sniper heard Miss Pauling call to Pyro as he reloaded his rifle. The monster rounded on the assistant but was forced to the ground by the cascade of bullets Heavy shot. Howling, it dropped to its knees, seeming to breath heavily.
"Get around it," Demo shouted, "cut off its escape routes!" The mercenaries advanced, unloading their ammo into the creature. As they encircled the creature, it began to speak.
"nO! Stop! I doooN't wanna die!" Scout cried out, "Guys ple-ase!" Heavy winced, and Demo's eye narrowed. "It ain't me, I sweeear, this ain't me do-doin' this!" The creature, trembling from the hundreds of holes littering its body, met Sniper's eyes.
"Snipes. C-c-c'mon, I'm Scout too! I swear, MI-I ck, I'm Scout too!"
"No you're not," Sniper growled and raised his rifle.
BANG! The marksman looked up and spotted the lightly smoking barrel of Spy's revolver. His face was blank, but there seemed to be an underlying disgust to it. The creature collapsed, that opal liquid oozing onto the floor. No one spoke and no one moved as the crystalline puddle grew.
"...Pyro," Sniper said, exhaustion clinging to his every word, "got a body to burn, mate. And Miss, looks like Soldier could use healin-" He didn't have time to finish his sentence as something grabbed his arms. Suddenly he was flying through the air and felt his breath get forced from his lungs when he slammed against the wall. As the world spun and voices rose up in a panic, Sniper was grabbed again, this time by his throat.
He kicked and punched at the monster, putting all his weight into the blows. They did nothing but tighten the grip. Tighter and tighter and tighter. There was no room to call out, to take a breath. His vision darkened and shook, filled with nothing but those deep pools of brown, so deep he was drowning in them, unable to breath or break loose. Brown, near black, growing blacker.
But they changed, and suddenly the pressure was lighting up. Brown, to gray, to blue. And then the pressure lifted entirely.
"I can't!" Scout shouted, stumbling away from the gasping marksman. "I can't do it!" Sniper sat up, reeling, and spotted the runner stumbling away from everyone, from him, with an expression of pure shame. That expression melted away into pain as Not-Scout burst into flames. He screamed, tearing at his arms and legs, at his face. Pyro reloaded his flare and marched forward, switching to her flamethrower, hissing with righteous anger. And a burst of flame consumed the figure, filling the cave with light.
The screams died after some seconds, and the body fell, melting into burnt, gooey flesh as the smell of boiling skin filled the cave. And as the pyromaniac finally killed his flame, all that remained was a pile of black liquid and the bones of a hand. Everyone watched, waiting. It did not grow back.
It was dead.
Cheers filled the cave along with sturdy back claps. Well, it was mostly Demo and Pyro celebrating, Heavy and Spy were quiet, watching the last embers fade to ash like autumn leaves. And Soldier was face first on the ground with Miss Pauling pulling out the new batch of strings in his skin.
"Ugh, why are these ones so much wetter?"
"That's whot it gets," Demo sneered, stamping his foot into the charred remains and grinding his heel, "deserved everything it got!" He straightened up, rubbing at his eye. "Oooooh, Aye could use a drink!"
"Only have water," Miss Pauling replied. Demo cursed under his breath.
"Medic is waking," Heavy pointed out. Indeed, when the ragged group looked, there he was, scratching his head with a pained expression.
"Well I certainly 'ope you've calmed down," Spy growled, rubbing his neck. Medic only looked confused.
"I can't see," he said. The assistant started and grabbed the Medigun from the pile of supplies. She aimed it at the doctor and turned it on, the brilliant glow entangling itself around the man's limbs.
"Uh, thank you, but I just need mein glasses." Miss Pauling's cheeks turned a faint pink.
"Oh."
"Yeah, might have stepped on them, actually," Sniper spoke up, finally looking away from the pile of ash. He knew he should apologize for the mistake he made days ago. But, after the German's attitude, he didn't really want to.
"D*mn," Engie groaned, waking up alongside the medicine man, "that there is some headache." He only just got up before getting bodied by Pyro, who wrapped the Texan in a bear hug.
"Miss Pauling," Heavy spoke up, his booming voice naturally drawing the men's attention, "you said monster had been a man. Explain. Please." The secretary sighed as she handed Medic a spare pair of glasses she'd brought with the supplies.
"What you just killed was apparently half of a creature made specifically to kill anyone associated with the Mann Brothers, Mann Co., or The Administrator," Miss Pauling began. The mercenaries, besides Sniper, gathered up, giving the lady their full attention. "From what I know, and found out, that thing was the result of some human experimentation." Medic perked up.
"In vhat vays?" He asked, completely enthralled.
"Mixing animal DNA, rapid cell growth, and as you all probably know, the ability to take another person's appearance."
"Interesting," Medic hummed, tapping his chin in thought, "are there any samples still left around here?"
"Well, you could look through that mess over there," Demo jabbed a thumb at the ash, "doubt that there's much ta find." Medic pouted.
"Anyways, all I'm allowed to say is that it used to be a man named Jacob Connery."
"It was who?" Spy asked, pausing in brushing down his already ruined suit. His eyes were dark. "Connery?"
"Did… did you know him?" Miss Pauling asked.
"In the sense of knowing what he was like, then yes."
"How in sam hill did you know that freak?" Engie asked. Spy gave him a cold glare.
"He was a spy, much like myself, though I would say only in title; the man was a sadist when it came to getting information. Had quite the affinity for waterboarding, or anything to do with cutting off oxygen. He would often make them worse the more irate he became." His eyes narrowed as he ran his gloved hands over his hidden blade, "he never could keep his temper in check."
The team was starting to talk all at once, over each other, to their closest teammate or just in general, asking questions or sharing info. Sniper remained quiet, but listened as his team, every single one whom he thought dead, were alive. Little worn for weather, maybe even emotionally tainted, but alive. Just like Scout said they were. He felt himself smirk.
Then paused.
Then swore. Loudly.
"Wat is wrong?" Heavy asked as he watched the marksman pacing around, looking at the ground. Sniper didn't answer the man, instead he met Miss Pauling's eyes with a frantic expression.
"Please tell me you have your earpiece tucked away somewhere?" He asked. The assistant paled.
"I lost it when I was jumped." Sniper swore again, his search growing more frantic.
"He's had nothing but dead air for a good ten minutes now," he said, "has anyone seen moi-"
A joyful humming was coming his direction, and when he looked up, there was Pyro. She gave a little twirl before dramatically bowing with his hand stretched outwards. Lying on his palm was Sniper's earpiece.
"Thanks," he said, slipping it on. As he turned his device on, the team watched on in silence with Miss Pauling handing them all something from the crates. "Kid, ya there?"
Silence.
"Scout?"
Was that something? Through the static, it felt so far away, but it had to be something. It had to be! "Kid, if you're able to hear this, lead it down, we're ready for it, we can kill it."
A crackle, through the static, and then a voice much quieter than it normally was.
"-okay, right? Everyone's okay; you got them out, right? You, y-you can't, it was lyin', it has ta be."
"Yeah, Oi got them out," Sniper began, "they're all-" he stopped when he heard Scout continue
"You're okay, ya gotta be okay, if ya need me ta lead it down I…" the runner fell silent. "I don't think I can, anymore." Sniper's heart sank, "I got my ankle busted and… and I'm on da third floor, headed towards da fourth cause… cause I was, I… I'm sorry," Scout sounded to be on the verge of crying, "I couldn't keep dat thing together, I couldn't keep it distracted. 'M sorry."
"No, don't be sorry, it's-" but Scout's line went quiet, giving Sniper nothing but static. He swore, and snatched his earpiece down. Someone had stepped on the microphone.
"We need to get out of here," he said to the team, putting back on his device "Scout can't get down here, we'll need to get to him instead."
"What happened?" Miss Pauling asked, concern plainly written on her face. Sniper swallowed.
"Oi don't know, that's the problem." He rushed over to the rope still hanging from the ceiling.
"Sniper, we cannot climb that with weapons," Heavy pointed out as Miss Pauling was handing Medic his Medigun, "will have to leave them or find another way." Sniper looked back and forth between the men and the rope, frustration growing.
"We don't have the time," he hissed. "Then, we'll go through the pool. It's long, but-"
"Where is Scout, anyway?" Soldier asked, having finally woken up from his paralysis.
"In our base, said the fourth floor."
"Oh, well then we can go that way," Soldier pointed towards the cave's entrance, "It's back through the trenches, a path that directly reaches the base!"
"There is?" Engie asked. The patriot nodded.
"When securing your battlements, it is REQUIRED that you thoroughly inspect ALL pathways, tunnels, trenches and-" the man stopped when Sniper grabbed his shoulder. The marksman's expression was fierce.
"Lead us to the base."
He couldn't run for much longer. Scout couldn't run at all, his ankle wouldn't let him. The sprain was forcing him to limp, slowing him down, seeping the speed he should have in his legs into his thoughts. They darted about, unable to stay long enough for the runner to properly pause and think. The faster he was, the slower his thoughts. The slower he was, the faster his thoughts. The faster they got, the more he couldn't wrangle them in, couldn't control them. Or, in layman's terms, Scout was panicking.
Panicking because he couldn't run.
Panicking because he was taking wrong turns.
Panicking because he was now on the third floor and racing to the fourth when he should be going down.
Panicking because neither Sniper or Miss Pauling had responded at all for over ten minutes.
Scout slipped around a corner, the staircase in his sights. The walls were broken, releasing the elements into the corridor, wetting the boards and allowing wood mold to grow. Very slippery wood mold.
That fact shot past his mind, too fast to catch as Scout slipped on the dark green sludge. He landed hard on his shoulder, feeling his headset rattle from the force. Behind him, he could hear it.
It wasn't chasing him down, it didn't have to. All it had to do was wait for Scout to lose his adrenaline rush. It was no longer a battle of speed, it was a battle of endurance, and Scout knew he was losing. It knew it too.
"You're in a LoSINg battle," Scout heard it call, the voice no longer layered with his own and instead was rasping, near animalistic, and if he listened hard enough, could just make out the faintest traces of an English accent. "thiS is onLY A Waste of eFFFFFFFoort."
Scout pushed himself up, and just kept himself from slipping again. Upstairs, it would expect him to keep going, but outside? The runner shot to a sizable hole in the wall and peered out.
Wind howled, sending raindrops to pepper his face and forcing him to squint. It was a near straight drop, and if he fell, Scout would be a Scout flavored pancake. If he fell; there was a ledge, where the wall met the floor, just wide enough to stand on with his tippy toes. Along with the ledge were those outdoor lights, meant to light up large areas of land, what the heck were they called-
"TheY won'TTT suRVive, y you kNOW," Scout paled at the sudden proximity of the voice, "yOu aren't heLping them figHt down thERe." He grabbed the hole's ledge, and leapt out.
Scout nearly fell. His hand shot out and grabbed the cord running along the wall and used it to swing himself into the wall. The wind blasted him again, shooting frost into his fingers and water into his clothes. Scout simply stood there, clinging onto the cord for dear life. The ledge he stood on was a centimeter longer than he first thought, but it still wasn't much.
Another blast of wind and Scout pressed himself harder into the wall. Just don't look down, the height was fatal but just don't look down, don't get distracted, focus on reaching… what? Reach what? Scout looked around as rain threatened his eyesight. Where, where, there! On the second floor was a window looking out towards himself. It looked like it was from a dorm. Scout frowned. Why was there a window in a dorm, whose dorm was that? His room didn't have a window, how was that fair?-
No time for that, he had to reach that window. Scout inched along, keeping a tight grip on his one and only lifeline. He couldn't afford to fall, his team needed him, they needed his help and to lead the thing to the cave. Not yet though, Sniper said he would let Scout know when to bring it down, and until that happened, he was staying above ground. Far above ground, apparently.
The runner hooked his arm around the cord and reached for one of the lamps. It was as big as his head, and would make for a good stepping stool if was strong enough. Scout took a deep breath, and raised his leg to get up on the light. The metal hood was slick with water, and his shoe slid off instantly. The sudden drop caused Scout to grab the cord again, pressing himself against the wall. Through the wall and through the rain, he could hear it. Hear it talking about something. Talking to him.
"You left tHem again, lIKe beforeeee." The runner stiffened, grip growing tighter around the wire, "LEFt them to dEAl wiTh it all alone." The voice stilled, growing silent. Then, it whispered, in a haunting and mournful tone "How could you?
"Do you wish for their deaths, oneS slow and PAInful? To saCRIFiceeee their lives in order for youRS TO continue?" Scout shook his head. No, he wasn't going to listen to that thing. It was lying, it was doing spy crap, just trying to get him to come out.
"HoW could yOU do tHat, afteeer everything? After all the time spent, after maKINg so many choICes to LEAve the others behiNd, you continuE TO do it. How COUld you?" Scout closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. It wasn't true, he was helping, this was his role, his job, to keep the voice and its owner away from Sniper and Miss Pauling while they freed his team. That was his role! They were fine without him, Sniper would call when he needed Scout to bring the monster down! He glared up at the window and stepped up on the lamp. His foot slid but remained planted. The runner let go of the wire and shakingly pushed himself up. It creaked ominously but held his weight. The window was in jumping distance, its ledge just out of reach.
"They're sCREaming for you," it called into the open air, "crying FOr your helpppppp. Asking theMSElves WHy you left tHEm alone." No they weren't, they were fine! They had to be fine, they were fine! "In so much pain. So mUCH sufferinnng, all For YOUr sake. They must care FoR you deeplY TO let you be free above them. Did YOu ever care in return?"
"Shut up," Scout whispered, voice instantly stolen by the wind, "you're lyin', you're lyin'."
"WHat a pity, for their frIENd to abanDon thEM so soon. A pity that Their final thOughts were questions begGINg for ansWers. Answwwwers you hOld, but will nOT give." It was just trying to get into his head, that's what Scout kept telling himself as he pushed himself against the cold wood and lowered his mic.
"Guys, please tell me everythin's good down there," Scout pleaded, voice shaking like a leaf in the raging wind around him. "Mick, c'mon, you're okay, right? Everyone's okay; you got them out, right? You, y-you can't, it was lyin', it has ta be." His ears were met with static. He swallowed.
"You're okay, ya gotta be okay, if ya need me ta lead it down I…" Scout looked over his shoulder, towards the ground. He swallowed again. "I don't think I can, anymore. I got my ankle busted and… and I'm on da third floor, headed towards da fourth cause… cause I was, I… I'm sorry," his hand was shaking, "I couldn't keep dat thing together, I couldn't keep it distracted. 'M sorry."
No one answered.
"A trAitor," he heard it say through the walls, "a murderer."
"SHUT UP!" Scout roared. He then swore softly at his stupidity.
It all happened so fast. One moment he was leaping for the window sill, the next he was being thrown through it. Broken glass cut his clothes and legs as he rolled along the ground. Scout groaned, head reeling from the sudden dizziness he felt along with the overpowering scent of gasoline. He looked around to find tens of canisters along with empty matchboxes. So this was Pyro's room. Of course he got the window room.
That was his last thought before the floor exploded into shards of wood and splinters. Scout ducked to cover his face as a demonly chuckle filled the room. He began to grow nauseous. The monster was large and filled the space almost in its entirety.
"FoUNd you," the Counterfeit purred before swiping the runner. There was no time to react. Scout managed to grab something as he was sent hurling through the air and through the thin wood wall.
He landed and landed hard on the puddly roof. Pained air forced itself out of his bruised lungs as rain pelted his face. Scout sat up, hurting everywhere, and spotted the creature, watching him from the room with narrowed eyes. He narrowed his own when he found the gas canister locked in his hand. It was full.
"What a paTHEtic life you've led," the monster rumbled, "to Be sO selfish, even after everything." Scout set the canister down, unscrewing the top, "wHAt musT THEy think of you now, after turniNG your back on tHem oNe last time," Scout grabbed the container again, judging the distance. His eyes narrowed into hateful slits. "You monster."
With a strength neither knew he possessed anymore, Scout threw the gas canister. It hit the Counterfeit dead on, dousing it in the liquid. It hissed and roared in pain as chucks of its flesh dropped and sizzled. All he needed now was the ignition. His pistol would work.
Scout twisted to reach his backpack when the monster burst from the room, charging like a rhinoceros. The runner froze, eyes wide and heart pounding, before scrabbling at the belt around his chest. He grabbed a grenade and, after ripping it off, pulled the pin. And at that moment he was swallowed.
First came the darkness, then the impossible weight around him. In an instant, Scout felt his limbs get locked in place and the air closed off, no longer breathable. Not that he would be able to breathe anyway as the force of the pulsating flesh around grew and grew, cutting off his airways, pushing against his throat and chest. His hand shook, still holding the Grenade's lever tight. Something had to give.
That something was his ribcage. The runner screamed, which came out like a gurgling gasp, when he felt his lungs get stabbed by his snapping ribs and bones, filling with blood. He coughed and coughed, unable to take a breath. In that moment, he let go of the explosive, in too much pain to realize what he'd done until he felt his open hand get crushed along with everything else.
Scout clamped his eyes shut.
