"Sniper? Herr Sniper?" Sniper didn't acknowledge the German who, for some, no doubt pointless reason, was trying to get his attention. He didn't turn his head, and he didn't grunt to let Medic know he'd heard him. Instead, the marksman kept his eyes forward and listened for the static in his earpiece to fade into a voice. Would the others hear the runner through their own earpieces Miss Pauling gave them? He didn't know, so he kept listening, just in case they couldn't.

Soldier had traveled through these passages many times before, the patriot had said as the ragged group sped through dark tunnels, and the exit would take them right next to the BLU Base. Sniper had no choice but to believe him.

Ahead of him, Soldier was talking to Miss Pauling who kept a brisk pace at his side, complimenting her clothes and how battle ready she looked. Despite the stress written plainly on her face, Miss Pauling smiled.

"Thanks; it has two pairs of pockets."

"Ingenious!"

Behind him, Engineer and Heavy were talking, much quieter than the others. Demo and Pyro were scanning the tunnels to his left and right, weapons armed and ready for a fight. Spy kept to the back, checking and rechecking that his revolver did indeed have ammo. Check, and check again, never saying a word.

"Sniper?" Medic called his name again, directly to his right, trying to meet his gaze. The marksman narrowed his eyes and finally met the doctor's own. Medic grinned sheepishly.

"Ah, so you could hear me."

"You've been chirping right into moi ears, of course Oi heard you," Sniper growled, lengthening his stride. Medic quickened his own.

"Right. So…" the German sighed, fixing his glasses, "I vould like to… apologize."

"Apologize," Sniper repeated as the ground began to rise.

"Yes, apologize. More specifically, I vould like to say, vell, to tell you I'm sorry for mein… behavior. How I vas acting and for vhat I said to you. About your heritage."

"...Oi don't think now's the time, Doc," Sniper said as they turned a corner. The doctor laughed nervously.

"Vell, yes, but I vould rather bite the bullet. And besides that, there isn't much-" Medic cut himself off with a powerful yawn, "-else to do vhile ve are walking. And besides that, our team is… rather fractured." The doctor eyed their teammates, many of whom had gone quiet. "It vould only vorsen our ability to act as a cohesive unit if I didn't apologize, ja?"

"Oi suppose so," Sniper conceded, fiddling with his earpiece's broken mic.

"Of course, so, I vould like to say, that, I'm-" the man's words came to a screeching halt when the marksman shouted in pain, ripping off his earpiece. The others also halted, staring wide eyed at Sniper, who was in turn staring in both pain and confusion down at his device. The speaker had shrieked from the sheer volume of the sound it made but still seemed functional. Unlike Sniper's hearing.

Around him, the men were asking questions. Sniper could hardly understand a word they were saying, the ringing in his right ear covered everything. It was only when Medic used his Medigun on him that the Australian could take in the noises around him.

"Why did Sniper scream?" Heavy asked, lowering his minigun as no threats were found.

"Stretch?"

"Why have we stopped, maggots?" Soldier turned back to the group, "we haven't reached the surface yet!" Questions kept flooding the passage, about what happened, why Sniper had shouted so loudly, why they stopped. Sniper didn't answer, only staring down at the earpiece resting on his palm. The pain he felt just moments ago made him want to close his eyes to forget it. But instead of closing, his eyes widened in realization.

"Sniper, wait!" Miss Pauling shouted as the marksman pushed past her and Soldier, sprinting through the tunnel. Soldier was shouting as well, telling him to get his skinny *ss back there, that was an order! The cries and calls of his team faded swiftly, and soon the only sound left was his footsteps bouncing off the stone.

Faster, faster! The marksman shot through the cave and pushed himself to run even faster when he spotted the light ahead. The passage was thin, and he was forced to slow and inch his way through the crevice. Once he did, the light droplets of rain met him first and the sight of the BLU base second. He wasted no time.

The ground was cushy and tried to cling to his boots, keeping him from running right. It failed. The rain peppered his aviators, blurring the land and his sight. He ripped them off. Sniper dashed into the base, snapping his eyes around in a frenzy. With lungs burning from usage, the marksman tore through the halls.

Seconds passed when he found a hole in the floor above. A second passed when he leapt and grabbed its ledge. Another passed when he pulled himself up and got to his feet. Second after second after second when he found the staircase to the third floor. Seconds were so precious and they were falling away faster and faster. Where was he? Fourth floor, he'd said the fourth floor!

When Sniper finally reached the fourth floor, a chill ran down his spine. There was nasty smell filling the corridors, one that caused Sniper's eyes to water. As he made his way down the halls, the marksman was able to pick out the scents. Petrol, burning wood, and expired milk. A nasty combination. But there was something far more important to focus on.

"Scout?" Sniper called, picking up his pace. There was another scent beneath all of that, one he almost didn't recognize. A metallic saltiness. It was rare to have it cling to the air since its source was almost never enough to make the smell noticeable.

This time the smell of blood was very noticeable.

"Scout!" The smell of blood was growing, overlapping the other scents, and soon it was the only thing he could make out. It was thick in the air and kept growing, making it hard to breathe. Sniper turned a corner.

There was a light coming from a room with a cracked open door. One that looked like it was coming from outside and not from a harsh fluorescent lamp. Sniper dashed to the room and shoved the door aside.

He made to shout for the kid again, but he didn't need to. Nor could he if he wanted to as his breath caught in his throat. Sniper stood still at the boat-sized hole in the wall, drinking it all in with a building horror.

Red. Everything was red from the small patches of dying flame dancing on the roof to the piles of flesh melting away into a white sheen too quickly to regenerate. The smoking, broken headset was red with tissue and sparking fire. The air was red with the pungent coppery taste, the slowly crawling puddle at his boots was red, and that sound, a sound that was layers of gurgling gasps, was red. But all of it paled in comparison to the body lying face down on the roof, leaking red upon the wood.

"No, Nonononono, whot did you do!?" Sniper shouted, unable to keep the horror from seeping into his words. Avoiding the bits of fire and meat, the marksman darted to Scout's side. He grabbed the runner's shoulders and rolled him over. And felt his stomach churn.

Burn marks and pieces of flesh peppered the runner's worryingly pale skin. His lips were glistening like candy apples and were pulled back into a pained grimace, revealing pink teeth with blood coating his chin. Rain trails cut through the muck and debris on his cheeks, creating pale pathways. Where Scout's midriff should have been was now a gaping red gash, no intestines or organs to be found, no doubt strewn upon the rooftop with the piles of tissue. And with each shallow, bubbling breath, his strangely dented chest would tremble.

Breathing. Scout was alive. Scout was still alive!

"C'mon, kid, wake up! Open your eyes!" Sniper said, shaking the runner's shoulders. And with a whimper, Scout did. Clouded and glassy, the younger man's eyes meet Sniper's own and grinned, a fresh wave of blood slipping through his teeth.

"mick!" Scout exclaimed as Sniper was tearing off his jacket and wrapping it around the runner's missing stomach, "you're alive-" he was cut off with a horrible cough and continued to cough as Sniper tightened his makeshift bandage. Already his jacket was growing red.

"Don't talk," he ordered, "and don't move." Scout didn't listen, he was trying to talk to him, words creaking and fading into echoing whistles, like air escaping a balloon. "Oi said don't talk!"

"ya s-s-hould've seen it, ma-n! g-ggot… swallowed whole, and ii-t was cov- covered in gas and-" Sniper straightened up, looking away from the bloodied mess of a man. Increasing the pressure he had on Scout's gaping wound, earning a yelp, he turned on his earpiece.

"Anyone hearing this? Is any of your headsets connect-" A flurry of voices erupted into the device. The speed and volume in which they all spoke left Sniper to try and block out everything else, including Scout's wheezing voice.

"Everyone shut up!" Medic cut through the fray, silencing the team. "Sniper, vhere are you, we've been trying to call you for- look, you can't just up and-"

"Oi need you up here," Sniper cut him off, forcing his own voice to remain steady, "in the base."

"Vhere!?" Medic asked, clearly riled up. From what, Sniper didn't know, "Sniper, I don't know vhere you are, you left vithout a vord to anyone. If you need my help, tell me vhere you are!"

"On the bloody roof!" Sniper snapped; the German's temper was singing his own. The freezing rain and warm blood building on his hand didn't help either.

"Ze roof!?"

"Yes," he shouted over the rain. "Oi found Scout, he's- we're on the roof!"

"How injured is he?" Sniper looked back down, grimacing at the red mess that was his teammate. Scout was looking at himself too with an expression that was too hollow to mean something, but was too emotional to mean nothing. He was also peering under Sniper's jacket.

"my i- sides 're miss-sin'..." he rasped before Sniper slapped his hand away.

"Ya don't need to look at that."

"Sniper, how injured?"

"He ain't got a stomach anymore." On the other side he heard Medic cursing in German and the quiet questions from the others.

"You're going to have to bring him down." Sniper paused. Then shouted.

"Oi can't carry him down, he'll break in half!"

"If you vant to give Scout ze best chance of survival then you need to meet me halfvay!" Something was caught on his shirt. Sniper brushed it away. "Othervise he'll bleed out before I can reach you!"

"Where are you, then!?" He barked, brushing away the thing getting stuck on his shirt again.

"We're still in ze caves, but I can hear ze rain now-"

"YOU'RE STILL IN THE-"

"mick?" The anger Sniper felt withered away, leaving an exhaustion he couldn't describe. He hung his head, rubbing his eyes, and took a breath. Then, he turned back to Scout.

The runner was lightly pulling his shirt, just a light tug every other second or so. His fingers weren't properly gripping on, it was mostly just hooked around the fabric. Scout looked up at him, with an almost… shy expression. Even with all the red dripping down the wooden shingles, his ears were a faint pink.

"mick?"

"...Yeah," Sniper said, ignoring the voice in his ear as he turned off his device, "whot's up?" Scout swallowed, causing his entire body to convulse.

"i wan-na tell, i- can i tell y… ya-"

"Tell me something?" Sniper finished. The runner nodded, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. The marksman helped him with letting his knee get used as a back stand.

"b-but ya ccan, can't lau- ugh, okay? can't laugh." The very idea that Sniper could laugh at a time like this almost made him want to do just that. But he didn't. He simply nodded.

"Oi won't laugh, Oi promise."

"kay, c… cause 've, i tried te- tellin' ya earlier, bu…" Scout finally looked away, that shy look growing along with a tiredness. A tiredness that Sniper didn't like at all. "an-y way… what-t, what i was… i just want-ed ta…" He swallowed, and met Sniper's eyes again, "i don't mind. you call, callin' me by… name, anymor-e. don't mind you callin' me j-... "jeremy", any more. y… y'know wh- what i m-mean?" Sniper didn't for a moment. He sat there, confused, and wondering how this was so important to tell him at a time like this. But then his eyes widened and his mind, so frantic before, blanked.

"...d-dat ain't w- weird, right?" Scout asked, his voice growing almost fearful from the lengthy silence his words left. "it… it ain't wei- ird? r-right?"

"...No, mate, it's…" Sniper stopped, words coming slow and thoughts coming slower. The words he could muster up were thick and hard to say properly. "It's not weird. It's not weird, Oi… actually, 'm… Oi'm glad you told me. Honest." He shifted Scout into a sitting position, "'m honored."

Scout was slow to react, eyes now half lidded with deep indigo rings surrounding them. But he grinned.

"y yeah, it ain't… weird… i'm gonna t- take a n, a nap…"

"No!" Sniper grabbed his shoulder tightly, startling Scout, snapping his eyes open. The marksman softened his voice, "you can sleep later, but not yet. Can't close your eyes jus' yet, Buckshot."

"b-but i'm tired," Scout rasped, head falling forwards. "an- and it, it!-" As the runner took a gurgling breath, he crumpled into Sniper, coughing hard and peppering the sharpshooter's top with red. He responded by pulling Scout closer and snaking an arm under his legs. Rising into a stand, Sniper quickly began to quiet his littlest teammate when the boy cried out in pain.

"You're okay, hey, you're okay," he murmured, the quietness hiding the shaking of his voice, "Oi'm going to get you to the doc, he'll get ya all fixed up. You'll be okay, Jeremy. C'mon." Sniper got a better grip of the growing limp body of his… of his…

Scout didn't respond, too focused on breathing with his damaged lungs. Fine, that was fine, as long as he was breathing, as long as he was alive. The runner's inhales were wet, the blood clogging his throat bubbling with each small motion. One such motion being letting his head fall on Sniper's shoulder. The marksman swallowed hard, and turned towards the hole. When he reached it, he heard Scout say something. It was far too quiet, too exhausted.

"mick, look," Scout said, "da sun's finally comin' out…" Sniper looked back at the now blue-gray sky. There was no sun. He turned and ran.

"Keep your eyes open, no matter whot, keep them open!" He ordered, unable to keep his voice steady.


To say Miss Pauling was worried was both an exaggeration and an understatement. Because Sniper had run off ahead, leaving them to follow. Because he'd apparently found Scout, who was alive. Because Medic had told him to meet them halfway. Because Sniper hadn't replied and now no one knew where he and the runner were.

Now they were here, at the base. Sure enough, Soldier was right, there was a path that led them basically right to the building. Now the only problem was the still missing Sniper and the fact that her mercenaries kept falling behind due to falling asleep.

Demo had been the first, collapsing in the caves. The only reason why they even knew he'd fallen was because he had been sawing logs. Heavy had to carry him. And then Pyro had stopped and dropped to the grass when they made it out, and Heavy had to carry her too. And then Heavy fell unconscious.

At this point, the only ones who hadn't fallen asleep at all were Soldier and Medic. Miss Pauling could understand Soldier, the man, although insane, had perhaps the strongest self discipline she'd eve known. Medic, on the other hand, looked like a corpse. There were bags under his eyes, his cheekbones were jutting out, and his normally neat hair was a mess. And yet here he was, at her side and staring down at the horrifying hole in the base's floor.

"Vell, I don't think ve'll be crossing zat anytime soon," he said, looking over his shoulder at the rest of their team. The other men(besides Solder) were doing everything in their power to not nod off. Demo was still asleep, Heavy and Spy were leaning on the wall, Engineer and Pyro were sitting on some debris, away from the water. And Soldier was somewhere, she was certain that he was still in the building.

"Where is he?" Miss Pauling said, pulling on her hair. "How did he manage to jump that?"

"He might not have," Medic pointed out as he pointed to the many little holes in the ceiling, "if there's any zat are big enough, he might have just climbed through one. My, this base has gone to ze dogs."

"How are you still awake?" The assistant finally asked, "you have to be just as tired as the others." Medic simply waved the question away, shifting his grip on his Medigun.

"I'm used to vorking with complete and utter exhaustion, it's part of mein job," he gave her a smirk, "can't be falling asleep during surgeries, now can I?"

"No, I guess not." The conversation ended. Miss Pauling went back to observing her mercenaries and watching for Sniper. Medic was doing the same, his expression falling from the grin he gave her to one of seriousness.

"Miss Pauling," he suddenly said, snatching her attention, "vhat happened to mein doves?" She blanked. As she tried to stutter out an explanation, or an apology, Soldier's bellowing voice filled the air.

"Men, I have found Sniper!" Those five words caused everyone, even Demo, to straighten and turn towards the patriot standing at the end of the hall.

"Vhere is he-"

"Bloody h*ll!" Demo shouted as the marksman appeared behind Soldier. Bloody was right. For a split second, Miss Pauling saw the man as Connery, not Sniper, from the sheer amount of red on him. His shirt was stained, his pants were stained, even his face was smeared with blood. And hanging limp in his arms was what had to be Scout.

"Doc," Sniper rasped. The German dashed past Miss Pauling with the team following suit.

"Let me see him!" Medic ordered, turning on his Medigun. As the blue beam enveloped the runner, Sniper set him down when the doctor told him too. Miss Pauling drew closer and finally got a good glimpse of her mercenary.

When the dizzying feeling in her head grew too great, the secretary turned towards Sniper. The man stood still, arms crossed, watching Medic check Scout's pulse and other injuries. His expression was hollow; an unnerving sight given the state of his clothes. The team huddled around, getting their first look at their youngest teammate in over a month.

"What happened to him?"

"Holy s**t…"

"His guts are missing!"

"Give us some space!" Medic barked to the crowd. Most stumbled away, some like Spy stayed standing close, watching. A silence fell over the group as the doctor focused his Medigun on Scout's largest wounds. For a moment, Miss Pauling felt that growing worry in her mind ease up when she saw the hole in the runner's torso begin to sew itself back up. But it was slow work. Slower than it should have been. That silence turned tense the longer it went on.

Then, Medic turned off the Medigun, the glowing blue dying out.

"Whoi'd you stop," Sniper said, his voice, though quiet, filled the space, "it was working, whoi'd you stop?" Medic didn't meet his eyes for a moment, instead taking a deep breath. He then turned to Sniper with a hesitant but steady expression.

"I stopped because vhile his cells are still alive, his heart and brain aren't," Medic explained. No one moved, and no one spoke. Perhaps it was because their hearts dropped like Miss Pauling's had when Medic said that. The marksman only stood there, blank as ever.

"...Sorry, Oi don't… Oi don't think Oi'm following," Sniper finally said, "whot, whot are ya-"

"Scout's dead, Sniper. He's been dead for at least three minutes given his state."

All around them Miss Pauling heard the reactions of her men. Demo swore, Pyro covered his mask like she was cover his mouth in shock, Heavy lowered his head along with Engie, Soldier didn't seem to react at all, and Spy… Spy, with that same hollow look as Sniper wore, walked away from the group. She didn't stop him.

Sniper took the longest to react. When he finally moved from that stillness, Sniper's mouth grew into a thin line and looked away. A horrible moment passed before he gave a small nod, reached into his pocket, and put on his aviators, hiding his eyes.

"Right," Sniper said, voice holding no emotion, before turned towards Miss Pauling, "well, we should get the blokes someplace to rest, and make sure there isn't anymore of that things webs in them. Then we can figure out where to go from here." Miss Pauling didn't respond, only looking around her men and finally back to Sniper. He acted normal, more than the others, but… the way he had his hands hidden in his pockets, the stiffness in his posture…

"I think you should sit down," the assistant said softly, taking the marksman's arm and gently pulling him away from the team and the body, "I'll talk with the others and figure out what to do next, you just… you just rest, okay?" Sniper did as recommended, letting himself get pulled along and planting himself on a fallen beam. He said nothing when Miss Pauling let go of his arm and walked away. He said nothing when she gathered up Heavy and Engie and began to speak with them. He said nothing as he watched the others stand at the runner's side, looking at the wounds, saying a few words. And he said nothing when he spotted Spy on the other end of the room, sitting in the shadows away from everyone but Demo, who'd gone to perhaps comfort the man on his loss.

From where he sat, and from the small group surrounding the body, he couldn't see Scout's face. He didn't know if the kid had managed to keep his eyes open. But would that have mattered anyway? Scout had bled out minutes before Sniper reached their team. He hadn't been fast enough. If only he'd done as Medic said the moment he'd said it. If only he focused on getting Scout down instead of keeping him from as much pain as possible. If only he had been faster. If only Sniper was fast enough.

He didn't know how long he sat there, watching the rest of his team talk amongst themselves, keeping their fair distance away from the marksman and even from Scout's corpse. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there when Miss Pauling came back. She walked up, rubbing her arm, and gingerly sat down at his side.

"...Was he successful?" She asked. "Did Scout manage to kill Connery?" Sniper sighed through his nose, and nodded.

"All that was left of it was piles of burning meat. None of it grew back."

"That's good to know," was all Miss Pauling said before Sniper felt something get placed in his hand. Looking down, he spotted a neckerchief.

"You've got blood on your face," Miss Pauling explained before standing and walking back to the group, headed towards Spy. Sniper tried to clean his face as well as possible, the small cloth coming back bright red. He let it fall from his shaking hand and into the flooded floor, soaking up and sinking into the dark water.

The marksman sat alone for even longer, silent. It didn't feel right, it didn't feel… solid. Like everything around him was about to shatter away. The quiet voices of his team were the only other noise besides the light splashes of the rainwater. Voices that should have had one more among them. A louder voice that talked fast and was only slightly obnoxious. A voice from someone who couldn't stand not talking.

But Jeremy was dead. He hadn't been fast enough.

Mick wasn't fast enough and now Jeremy, his friend, was gone.