"Sniper!"

The whispers were faint at first, indistinguishable from the screams and flares of firearms around them; so quiet in fact, the Australian had to wonder whether the Soldier's Hysteria he'd always heard about had finally crept upon him. The man had surprised even himself, how quietly he found he was able to accept his slip into insanity, without so much as even a question or a shrug acknowledging the transition. His eye curls along the scope of his rifle, the sun's glare casting against everything in an eerily lively sheen—it coupled together with the flow of blood, warming it in its appearance, like a sweet, honey brown glaze coating the the marinating bodies of the dead that littered Granary's fields.

If this was what it felt like, madness, well, it certainly didn't feel any different from his times of sanity. Perhaps, then, he never really was sane to begin with.

"Jack—!"

Jack lowers the rifle, biting down on his lip—a shift and slight turn to the side and he looks about in an attempt to debunk the whispers and officially crawl into madness' arms.

Though sure enough Scout sits huddled behind a modest pile of oil barrels, the metal, Sniper swears, nearly baking under direct light from the sun, bubbling like thick, steel sludge. "Oi, Lawrence!" Jack guffaws, placing his rifle to his eye—like Hellhe'd let Scout get a hit on him—one shot from either is all the other needed for a domination, and a tainted duel record.

"Jack, come here!" Lawrence hisses, his face scrunched and his voice short, shorter than his previous calls, and Sniper slings his rifle over his shoulder, slipping from underneath his hideaway of sheetmetal.

'What in the world is'e doin'?' Sniper scoffs; it certainly explained a lot about BLU's inability to maintain or even capture any of the necessary points to seize the region; Scouts were crucial to a successful mission—other classes had been known to commandeer control in the past, though they were rarities—Spies who'd been known to take advantage of seclusion and secure it for their team, or Soldiers who'd been the only ones left alive, valiantly earning a victory with their last breath.

Just what their Scout was doing behind a pile of barrels calling his name instead of his job, well, Sniper had no idea. "I swear t'God, mongrel, if this is some trick'o yours t'win the duel, I'll kick your sorry arse back t'Boston, I will! Tell your Mum I say hi—"

But Lawrence grabs onto his front, pulling the man against him, shivering and hiccupping.

"What in the world's gotten into you—?!" Sniper pulls his hands away from Scout's abdomen, fresh blood coating them, trickling sickly in the creases of his hands. "Shit, love!"

"It fuckin' hurts, Jack!"

"What're you doin' callin' for me?! Why won't you call for your doc, love?!"

"He—I dunno where he is!" Scout whines, craning his eyes upward so they meet Jack's. "I tried callin' and he wouldn't answer! I was afraid if I shouted, one of ya would come and—and finish me off!"

"I can't do nothin' for ya, Larry, I don't have medikits just lyin' around!" the man roars as he strips Scout of his shirt, surveying the injury.

"How long you been bleedin'?"

"Argh—I don't fuckin' know, does it look like I've been countin'?!"

Sniper rolls his eyes, but holds Scout tenderly nonetheless.

"'S been ten minutes! But Lu! Fuckin' Luc, man he—!" Scout groans, doubling over and clutching his stomach with one hand, the other draped around Sniper's neck for support.

"Luc what!" Jack hisses murderously into his ear, wrapping the shirt so it binds itself around Scout's traumatized torso, halting the flow of blood. "He stabbed me, how the fuck else is he gonna kill people?!" Scout snaps, and Sniper sighs, a rush of worry and a thousand thoughts and questions of 'what to do' clutters most of his mind. The impression of Lawrence in his arms is so surreal, as it typically is when he sits injured under his care, the feel of his writhing frame only doing a little to jerk him from his frazzled thoughts.

"Musta wanted to just get me down, hopin' one of ya would finish me off so he wouldn't be blamed for my death—too bad for him it was you who found me!"

"I can't keep doin' this, love," Sniper growls, and Scout nods softly.

"I love ya, but you gotta learn t'either stay outta trouble or call your damn doctor—"

"'Scuse me?!"

"This ain't some fantasy, Lawrence, you're not Rapunzel, 'nd I ain't gonna keep savin' ya like ya are!"

"You think I do this on purpose like some fuckin' attention whore?! 'Cause I think it's cute?! My stepdad tried killin' me, wombat! I ain't tryin' to be no fuckin' princess! You ain't my knight, and I sure as Hell don't want you to be! But damn, you're all I got!"

"The last few times I've saved y'we've been lucky we weren't caught with each other! Even luckier your Doc can keep a secret—if the Administrator just looks at her monitor at the wrong second, or Jane finds y'all curled against me, or Tavish does a doubletake, seein' me holdin' you!"

"Then what?! She'd take your medals away?! Tavish'll tell?! Then so what, you'll be discharged?! Are your medals really that much more fuckin' important than keeping me alive?! Is RED's domination of the Armed Forces really fuckin' worth it—?!"

"She'll let ya die for insubordination, treason, defection! I've been tellin' y'this since the beginnin', Larry!" Jack stands up nonetheless, craddling Scout in a secretive embrace, arms positioned so he rests in them comfortably, but is concealed and easily missable to passerby. "If we're seen together, 'nd one o'us 'sn't bleedin' or pissin' on the other's corpse, we're gonna get questioned, accused of disloyalty, 'nd the Administrator has no problem killin' people who ain't workin' t'full capacity!"

"Why does she gotta kill 'em?!"

"We know too much, love, 'bout the world'n how it really works. She's not jus' gonna let us out there as civillians, a discharge wouldn't do her confidentiality any right favours. We part from 'er armies on bad terms 'nd I blab about forbidden stuff on the streets—people'll riot, knowing who it is that really runs the show 'n this place..."

"You sound like a fuckin' conspiracy nutjob!"

"I've seen it happen, Lawrence!"

"You ever see a Scout die?! 'cause I ain't gonna make it much longer if we stop here for chattin'!"

"Killed plenty of'em! But you mean the world t'me, Larry, that goes without sayin', eh? 'Nd I won't let—! Gah, shit—" he ducks behind a few scattered freight cars, and Scout's eyes widen as Jack catches his breath, winded from his sprint across the field.

"You just gonna fuckin' sit here and let me bleed to death!"

But Sniper clamps a hand over his mouth, craning Scout's head to give him a view of the sentry that lies ahead, an Engineer upgrading it calmly.

"I'm gonna let y'go here, love—he's got a dispenser up, he'll take care'o ya 'til your doc comes,"

"Dude, he's so fuckin' far away, I can't just get up and walk over there!"

"'Nd if I run y'to 'im that sentry's gonna swivel around'n kill me!"

"It's level one!"

"Then your Engineer'll be wonderin' why the bloody Hell I've got ya all tight against me, eh?! 'nd we don't want that," Jack reminds him heavily, Lawrence's brow furrowing as the Australian sets him gently so his back rests against the freight car.

"I have t'go, Larry, call for him t'come 'nd carry y'over there! I'll be' good 's gone, standin' around here," Sniper explains with finality, Scout giving him a hurt look.

"What's wrong—?!"

Scout pulls the man against him, catching Sniper very much off guard; it's a weak embrace, the Bostonian absolutely spent from bloodloss, but it doesn't stop Jack from returning the gesture with genuine affection. "Go 'head, call 'im before there's no blood left in ya," he whispers, Scout leaning forward (though not without a slight wince) and kissing him very gently.

"Okay, love," Sniper attempts to finalise it all, but a strange glint rests in Scout's eyes, a cold, distant shine, and it unnerves the Australian as they remain rooted on his own, Scout's hand squeezing his shoulder lightly.

"You're an idiot, Jack," Scout shakes his head, and Sniper scoffs, smirking silently in response; so maybe he was; Lawrence truly had drained him of all rationality. This skinny Bostonian had turned him into who knows just what exactly—but he wouldn't trade his 'idiocy' for anything. The older man growls as he feels a tender blade slice it's way along his spine, and an earsplitting groan echoes in an eerie wave as the knife lunges into the flesh of the man's back, dreadful pain taking him over.

Sniper's lidded eyes only catch slight glimpses of Luc's frame. He sits in Scout's former position, his face twisted in delight.

"Truly a lovestruck idiot."

-

"...Dammit! Zhe bleeding will not stop—Jack! Jack!"

A hand pats his cheek heavily, jumpstarting the man's groggy conscious. The hand from before is joined by the other, and Sniper can sense their struggle in their attempt to shift him so he sits upward as opposed to sprawled upon the ground. He moans as the pain in his back crescendos with each passing second gained as his self awareness returns, a sticky iron scented liquid that can only be blood seeping through his shirt and vest.

"Bugger me..." Jack grunts, the pain rendering him incapable of opening his eyes just yet. He can feel a warm air against the whole of his face and hair—he must have been stripped of his hat and glasses at some point. It appeared to be some sort of docking room, that he is being held in; it is dark and humid, sunlight trailing in just barely from underneath the steel door. Crates and barrels seem to be neatly organized in the neglected room, and each inhale fills Sniper's lungs with a prickling dust that itches at his throat.

It must be him and his rescuer, he quietly concludes. How in the Hell he got in here, he has no idea.

He listens for the sounds of nearby comrades, though pressure plugs his ears and whether the sounds of war have truly ceased or he is suppressing them, he does not know. In all honesty it matters very little as the man remembers that the crusted blood on his hands is not his own, but rather that of Scout. His heart gives a painful pump of startlement and he can feel the trickle of its blood seep from the stab wound on his middle back along his spine.

"Bloody Hell, Larry!" Sniper calls with a sudden energy that wells within him, the man lifting his head and allowing himself to part his eyelids—

"You fucker!" he roars as they adjust to the lack of light and center onto the masked man before him, Luc's red suit dirtied with the stains of combat. "Where is 'e?!" the Australian snarls, and his legs hobble as he attempts to hoist himself from the ground, the thin Frenchman gasping and taking a step back.

"Do not try to stand, Jack, you will 'urt yourself furzher!"

A hand around his neck however cuts him short, Luc's eyes widening as Sniper's burn ferociously into his own, Sniper's eyes and firm grip the only thing about him not a slave to injury bound weakness.

"I'll kill you if you—you!"

"Jack, please, you do not understand!"

"You stabbed 'im!" Sniper whispers in a fury so silent and yet so stark that Luc eyes the man's other hand, the other hand that curls around the hilt of his machete—

"Jack, Jack!"

"I'll kill y'right here 'nd right now if y'don't tell me what you've done with 'im—I don't care if the old bat takes my head for it—I'll make sure my last kill was worth it!"

"Jack, Lawrence—!"

"Y'got one chance t'talk, 'nd it better be the bloody truth," Sniper spits, and in a marvelous wonder of strength he pins Luc to the concrete wall, the edge of his kukri at his neck.

"Y'best start talkin', mate, 'cause my hands're shakin', 'nd I'm not too bothered about 'em slippin'—"

"I 'ave not seen Lawrence zhis entire match! It is what I am trying to tell you!" and Luc gasps as Sniper's blade presses against his flesh, Sniper's forearm supporting him, though it slips erratically as twinges of pain shoot throughout his body. "I don't take kindly t'lies, Luc," Sniper spits, eyes narrowing. "'Nd if you don't start makin' sense, I'll gut your voice out so I won't have t'hear 'em," Sniper threatens, Luc frozen as if making sure to pick his words carefully.

"My memory ain't terrible, mate—I remember y'stabbin' me, disguisin' as Lawrence t'trick me—nd I know you did somethin' to 'im!"

"Jack, listen to yourself, please! Why in zhe world would I stab you and zhen bring you in 'ere?!" Luc pleads, Sniper smiling roguishly.

"I'm waitin' for you t'tell me," he chuckles, Luc's eyes watching the knife that still slices delicately at his throat. "Jack, zhere is an imposter! I 'eard zhe BLUS during zhe battle, Lawrence 'as been missing since yesterday!"

"What&!" Sniper gasps, Luc sighing as the man loosens his deadly position—though just barely. "Zhe Scout you claimed to have seen was only a disguise—as was zhe one claiming to be me afterward!"

"You mean for me t'believe that there's another one o'you dirty spies runnin' around here, disguisin' as you'n Scout—and apparently even myself—?!"

"Jack, I would never 'urt 'im—!"

"Certainly not, Luc, not like the way you abused 'im his whole childhood, aye?!" Sniper snaps, and Luc freezes, swallowing slowly.

"I—I would never attempt to kill 'im, Jack, I swear it!"

"Y'jus sayin' that 'cause you know I'll make ya regret it if I find out you've laid even a finger on'im out here—?"

"Zhe Spy who stabbed you, zhough cloaked as myself, was not me, Jack—you know I am a man who prides 'imself in 'is work—such a sloppy stab zhat leaves 'is victim alive is not a sign of my work, but a sign of an incompetent fool! Zhe boy 'as been 'aving problems wizh 'is own team's Spy for quite some time—!" Luc stutters, Sniper's face contorting from confusion.

"He certainly hasn't mentioned any sorts o'problems other than the ones he's had with you!"

"'E would not tell me eizher! I try to ask 'im when I see 'im, but 'e tells me nozhing! It comes as no surprise to me 'e would keep zhem from you, too!"

"Why would he do that?! He knows I'd do anythin' for 'im, that anyone givin 'im shit I'll—I'll—!"

"Lawrence is a prideful boy, any problem of 'is is 'is problem alone! 'e's been zhis way 'is whole life! If 'e were to tell you, it would be like asking for 'elp—Lawrence would razher die zhan ask for anyone's 'elp!"

"Obviously!"

"Especially from you, 'e constantly feels 'e 'as somezhing to prove! In all my years of knowing 'im, you are zhe only one who 'as ever gotten to 'im!"

"This pride o'his is gettin' 'im bloody killed!" Sniper roars, his lips pursed tightly, and Luc can see anxiety swallowing him whole. "He's not invincible, he needs t'quit actin' like he is—! 'Nd bein' a Scout doesn't help that he's bein' aimed at first out here—!"

"I know zhis, Jack, I know!" Luc sighs, and all he can do is watch as Sniper brings his face into his hands, the man sitting his silent contemplation.

"I warned Scout not to provoke zhis man—zhat I know him well—naturally I 'ave done my share of reconnaissance upon 'im—'e is a cunning man, one zhat does not accept zhe concept of rejection so easily—in any situation!"

"What're you sayin'?!"

"Lawrence must 'ave done somezhing to provoke 'im—'nd whatever zhe Spy wants, 'e is not giving 'im!"

"Oi, ya don't think!?"

"I do not know what 'e wants from Lawrence, Jack, I told you 'e would not confide in me! But I do know Lawrence 'as been more and more afraid of zhis man in zhe recent weeks, and for good reason! 'e 'as been gone since yesterday, and to me it seems zhat it is no coincidence zhat impersonations of 'im and zhose closest to 'im 'ave been popping up!"

Sniper nods, groaning as he falls into a more accommodating position to settle his back.

"BLU's Spy is trying to break Lawrence down zhe way any Spy would—by manipulating 'im through ozhers, by impersonating 'im and zhose 'e loves—'ow sure can Scout be zhat we are not imposters?! Zhe same way you could be now! Or even myself! Where will 'e turn if 'e 'as no one to trust? And 'ow are we supposed to reach 'im if we too do not know who to believe?!"

"Sick stuff, Frenchie—but who're you, carin' all of a sudden—?! After everythin' you've done t'him!"

"I regret it every day, Jack! But neizher of you understand zhat I never meant to ruin 'is childhood! I do not claim innocence as I said! And of course to young Lawrence who only saw 'is Fazher as being zhat—a fazher, of course I look like zhe Devil 'imself when he'd finally had enough 'is mozher and I eloping whilst 'is fazher abused 'er until 'is eventual departure from 'is life completely! And zhat I lived wizh zhem unmasked, I 'ad to conceal many details about my occupation, bozh for zheir safety and my own! I will not stand 'ere and pretend to 'ave treated Lawrence zhe way I should 'ave, but please, do not forget zhat you see it all zhrough zhe point of view of 'is lover, boyfriend, whatever zhe 'Ell you two call yourselves,"

Sniper grunts and nods just slightly.

"I regret it everyday, Jack—I love 'is mozher and 'er sons very much—and I swear it to you I will not let anyzhing 'appen to Lawrence!"

"I'm afraid we're too late for that, Luc," Sniper shakes his head.

"'E is not dead—Ze Administrator is notified of every deazh—no matter its cause—she keeps very close tabs on 'er mercenaries; if zhey leave zhe Fort wizhout predesignated approval, she knows it. Even Spies cannot travel wizhout escaping 'er scrutinous eyes. Besides -it vould not be like ze BLU Spy to kill 'im before first getting zhat what 'e wants! Which, I zhink, is,"

"I don't give a shit about anythin' but Scout, Luc—I don't give a damn about any details or motives or why—all I know is I better find Lawrence—or—"

"What do you propose we do1;?!"

"We find'im, Luc, 'nd I won't rest until I do—I don't care about missions, or who's watchin' me—discharges—bugger it all—I'm findin' 'im,"

"A most reckless approach,"

"You can piss around'nd go invisible 'nd wait for the clear in your bloody corners all you want—I'm goin' in that base, 'nd I want answers—"

"You won't find Scout dead, Jack, and if you storm zheir base you will be killed immediately! A little bit of caution is necessary if you want you or Lawrence to come out of zhis alive! And I can assure you Lawrence would be most devastated if you were to die saving 'im!"

"I think he'd die just 'cause 'e needs t'be saved,"

"'E is not locked away in some dungeon—I can be sure of zhis—it is not so much zhat 'e needs saving, 'e is missing..."

"You're not makin' sense, mate—"

"Finding 'im will not be zhe issue—'e is still wizhin zhe perimeters of 2Fort - ozherwise ze Administrator would 'ave been notified, and zhe entire base would be on lockdown until 'e was found. No, it is resolving zhis whole conflict wizhout inciting zhe attention of zhe Administrator zhat will prove to be zhe problem," Luc explains.

"It will mean deazh for you bozh, if she knows you two are in love,"

"Figured the punishment would be somethin' like that—but I sure as Hell ain't the only one who's gotta watch out, you're his bloody stepdad!"

"Ze Administrator 'as acknowledged zhis fact in zhe past—you do not want to stand before 'er, she is a devastating woman—as long as she knows zhat we bozh harbour a hatred for each ozher, she is not so peeved—zhe hatred is to 'er what motivates us bozh—'ow we know each ozher does nor worry 'er in zhis case—and it is part of zhe reason why I cannot mend anyzhing wizh Lawrence now, because it would risk our lives! It is no longer a game,"

"'Nd it never was—!"

"You understand zhat if she gains more control, zhe world will be 'ers unchecked—!"

"It already is, Luc; she's got control over both heads o'RED'n BLU, over both factions—'nd those factions already got the world under their thumbs—all it would take is a revolt from us 'nd her whole empire'd be overturned! Why else d'you think she has us fightin'?! If we were t'ever stop for even a second, what would be distractin' us from her! It's not worth the piss or blood who captures a fuckin' point—distractions, Luc—'nd anythin' that serves as a distraction from our missions is eliminated—'nd I'd say Scout is a distraction, alright—even worse for me, since Scouts are the ones capturin' out here t'begin with!"

"'E never should 'ave gotten involved in any of zhis!"

"He told me why—why he enlisted," Sniper mentions carefully.

"Zhen you will understand why I fear I 'ave driven zhe boy to is deazh," Luc chokes, shaking his head and furrowing his brow.

"If 'is mozher 'ad any idea 'ow much danger 'er son was in right now, in zhis very moment! 'E would not 'ave enlisted if—I 'ad not provoked 'im to hurt me as 'e did,"

"I could kill ya for what you did to 'im," Sniper growls, Luc expelling a single unamused chuckle.

"I know it; I see it in your eyes,"

"Yet if you hadn't been such a prick, I never woulda met 'im, y'know,"

"I could sense zhat 'e regretted 'is deployment in 'is first few monzhs, zhat 'e 'ad realised signing a contract wizh BLU meant more zhan firing shots and leaving it all wizh a clean record—zhough I believe your friendship wizh 'im 'as eased 'im—"

"Don't let 'im hear ya spewing that gushy shit,"

"Of course not,"

"I can't believe the little bugger— he's been havin' these problems 'nd never said a word—I'll kill'im when we find 'im,"

"You are confident zhat we will?"

"You're the one who said we would, Luc! And I need t'find him now!"

"I 'ave sensed your restlessness—but you are correct, we must find Lawrence first—let me call our doctor to patch your back,"

"'s the battle over?!"

"Zhere wasn't much of a fight to begin wizh, what wizh Lawrence unable to capture any areas for zhe BLUs—Zhey did not stand a chance," Luc mumbles, adjusting and prodding the watch around his wrist.

"Relax, Jack—zhe Medic is on 'is way—we will find 'im—I swear it."