When Scout leaves BLU Base, he passes by Engineer and Soldier eating breakfast. Or, rather, he passes by Engineer eating breakfast while Soldier mashes all his oats and shit together and shovels it into his mouth. Engineer looks a little annoyed, but Scout doesn't think too hard about it when he just claps Soldier on the shoulder and smiles instead of mentioning anything.
"Fags," he mutters as he steps out into the rain. It's pouring harder than before, enough that he can barely see where he's walking, and when he finally gets himself to the point near the sewer where he was kneeling before, he suddenly feels really nervous about stepping on the worm. (It's not like he cares about the worm or anything, it's just, the mud's really fucking up his shoes, and he doesn't want worm gunk all over them too.) Scout walks slowly toward the sewer opening, his eyes darting to the ground every now and then, until he finally gets to the mouth of the tunnels.
The raindrops beating the ground echo throughout the sewer, drumming like a dozen baseballs bouncing against a wall. Scout rubs his arms until the hair stops standing up, and flicks on the flashlight, gritting his teeth so they won't chatter as pathetically as they are now. He should've brought a better sweater than the one he's got on, he thinks; as great as the Yankees may be, this flimsy cloth just isn't cutting it.
He huffs out a breath of air and watches the fog from his breath disappear. "Whatever," he grumbles, clutching an arm to himself in an extremely manly fashion and setting forward. If the beam of the flashlight is shaking, it's because he's walking on unsteady ground, and not because he's too cold or, God forbid, scared. The pipe's just got really shitty traction and stuff, especially when it's all wet like this.
Yeah.
Scout soon reaches a fork in the tunnel and weighs his decisions. The one on the left looks cleaner, but he can't even hear the rain coming from it — just the angry sucking sound of a tunnel. The one on the right looks kind of messed up, but he can just barely make out another turn at the end of it, and he can hear water coming from it, too...
Scout chooses the right path because he's right handed.
"Fuck, I'm so good at decision making," Scout says proudly to himself as he traipses down the right tunnel. He ignores the messy ground, because, man, what if it's shit or something, that would be gross to look at. After a short time of walking, Scout gets to the end, and his only choices are to turn left and go closer to the sound of rushing water, or to turn back and just figure that the sewers are retarded.
Scout keeps going. He has nothing else to do — especially not hang out with Pyro and that stupid, freaky Octospy. They're just going to sleep and sing fruity songs and whatever anyway.
"Stupid fucking monster, stealing my friend... I don't care how cute it is..." Scout mutters, kicking the short layer of water on the floor of the sewer. He huddles closer into himself, the flashlight beam dangling lower than it really should, and loses himself in his thoughts as he walks. "Goddamn it, maybe that frog was right about just putting it back in here..."
Scout is not jealous.
He's just... jealous.
Scout is still trying to figure out what the Hell he means when he hears a song floating down through the tunnel, just barely audible over the staccato of the raindrops above and the curious rush of water from ahead. It sounds like the fucking frog.
"That'd be perfect," Scout mumbles sarcastically, his cold lips making him stumble a little over the words, "being cramped up in this place with that bitch."
He slows his pace, though, when he realizes that it's the second song he's recognized in as many days. His mom got him and his brothers to watch this movie a couple of years back... what was it called?
"The Sound of Music," Scout says. It sounds like a sigh, but only girls and fags sigh, and Scout is not a faggot-girl. He doesn't really notice how the familiar lyrics warm him up inside, or how his pace quickens just a little.
"...Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel wiz noodles
Wild geese zat fly wiz ze moon on zeir wings
Zese are a few of my favorite zings..."
Scout turns the corner, and his low-hanging flashlight catches a spot of blue. It looks like a grossly oversized version of one of Octospy's tentacles, and as he moves the beam up, he nearly drops the whole damn flashlight.
If Octospy was a creepy abomination, then what Scout's seeing now is... It's... Scout thinks he's never wished so hard he hadn't dropped out of high school, because if he'd stuck with it, he might've had a word to describe what he's seeing.
From the waist up, it's a BLU Spy, just like the douchebag Scout knows and lives with every day. From the waist down, it's the sort of thing Scout thought he could only ever dream of after toking up with the boys and maybe eating a couple of pizzas.
The Tentacled Spy fixes Scout with the predatory gaze that he knows so well after having been killed so many times by RED Spy, and he gulps when the thing keeps singing, its too sharp teeth gleaming horribly in the light of his flashlight. Scout could probably stand it if the thing wasn't changing the lyrics as it writhes toward him on its huge, blue tentacles.
"...Scouts in white knee socks with cheap cotton shirts
Entrails zat stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white balisongs zat melt into skins
Zese are a few of my favorite zings..."
Scout's entire body seems like it's decided to revolt against him, for whatever fucking reason, and he can't even move his jaw to curse when one of the tentacles starts to slide up his leg.
"...When ze dog bites
When ze bee stings
When I'm feeling—" Tentaspy smirks, and drapes two of his tentacles onto Scout's shoulders "—sad
I simply remember my favorite zings
And zen I don't feel so bad..."
The clatter and splash of the flashlight falling to the ground seems muffled in Scout's ears, and he can't think. Tentaspy caresses his cheek with a tentacle that could be slick for a million reasons that Scout wouldn't want to imagine even if he could, but his suckers pull at Scout's skin, stinging faintly when they come away.
"...Blood drips from eyes and unraveled tendons, bright copper rivers and suspended victims. Brown paper packages of intestines — zese are a few of my favorite zings."
Scout's too stuck in his own horror to notice that Tentaspy's stopped singing, and is simply stroking him with his tentacles, not even bothering to rhyme anymore. Their wetness chills Scout to the very bone.
"Cream colored flesh and crisp, crunchy bones. Soldiers and Laborers and Medics wiz noodles. Sniper's zat fly like ze devil's on zeir tails... zese are a few of my favorite zings." Tentaspy leans forward, his tentacles gripping Scout hard as he pulls him close, clear up off the floor. Scout's body screams in pain, but all he can manage is a choked whimper in the back of his throat.
"A Scout in white knee socks wiz a blue cotton shirt..." Tentaspy knocks Scout's hat off, and brushes one of his hands (Scout didn't pay much attention to them before; they seemed so normal, holding a cigarette, compared to the lab experiment gone horribly wrong that was the rest of Tentaspy) through Scout's blond hair. "Calm down, mon petit, before you wet your pants," Tentaspy snarks, blowing smoke into Scout's face. His eyes sting and he coughs, accidentally pinching his skin against Tentaspy's suckers when he tries to move his arm to cover his mouth.
Tentaspy drops Scout on the floor, and tucks the flashlight into the hem of Scout's pants with one of his tentacles, taking another drag on his cigarette. "Go back to ze base," he orders, his cold tone in sharp contrast to the eerie passion he had when he was singing. When Scout doesn't move, he fucking hisses, and it jolts Scout back into action, scrambling to pick up his hat and jam it on his head. He fumbles around for a full minute beneath Tentaspy's stare before he realizes the flashlight is already tucked in his pants.
"Are you a man or not? Ne pleure pas," Tentaspy says, flicking his cigarette into the shallow water of the sewer. The sound of it sizzling out sears itself into Scout's memory, and he turns around, skidding on the wet floor as he runs at full tilt. "Oh, and I nearly forgot," Tentaspy's voice echoes throughout the sewers, "zank you for taking zat idiotic blob to ze base, petit! Just make sure you kill it before zings get out of 'and!"
Scout tries his best to ignore Tentaspy's echoing laughter, and dives out of the sewer like he's reaching for home plate. He slides through the mud, probably ruining his clothes for fucking ever, but Scout can't bring himself to worry about cleanliness as he's sprinting back into the base. He runs past a scandalized looking Medic and doesn't stop until he's literally slamming against the wall of the one of the shower stalls.
When he turns on the water and watches mud spiral down the drain, all Scout can think of is that it's all going down to that monster, swirling and mixing with the water where he lives.
----
It takes Medic five attempts to inform Scout that he's still wearing all of his clothes in the shower, and no matter what he does, he can't get the boy to say what happened. A few hours later, Scout comes to the sick bay and gasps out something about evil tentacle people in the sewer before he retches into a trash can.
"Is this about the 'Octospy'?" Medic asks, arms folded as he watches Scout. Though he can certainly be a handful, the boy's not too terribly bad, and Medic can't help but feel some sympathy for Scout as he curls in on himself, groaning quietly.
"No," Scout mutters, and Medic still has to fight not to cringe when he hears that accent, "just... I prob'ly got da flu or somethin'."
Medic isn't convinced, but he decides to take Scout's word for it, for now. He and Pyro seem happy, and, after all, the animal does have an appreciation for good music that could positively effect the team. Still, though he'll never admit it to anyone but Heavy (and even then, only under the blanket of darkness when they're curled around each other), Medic sees himself as something of a caretaker for BLU. At the first sign of any trouble from this 'Octospy,' he decides, he'll get his Bonesaw and take care of it.
Well, then again, he may want to keep it for science... but that's something he can ponder later. For now, Medic will simply shoo Spy, who's looking smugger than the recipient of ten consecutive blowjobs (as usual), out of the sick bay, and then go to his Heavy and sleep.
He pats Scout on the head when they get to the boy's door, and continues down the hallway to Heavy's room, pleased when he hears none of the typical slurs and half-formed thoughts Scout likes to shout so often.
----
In his jar, Octospy curls his visible mouth up into a smile: The only function that it has every been able to really serve, other than to smoke through. His true mouth, though — the beak on his underside — clicks open and shut quietly, impatiently.
He hates the waiting game.