Scout was too terrified to utter a word as they sped away from the ranch. Despite all the questions he had, Sniper was clearly enraged and probably wouldn't even acknowledge him for the time being. It provided a rather humorous image, at first, for the assassin was far too tall for the tiny car, and with his knees stuck somewhere behind the steering wheel, he was forced to hunch, his jaw clenched and eyes set fiercely on the road ahead. Scout knew better than to laugh, though he might have done were he not still feeling tumultuous following their argument.

The colourful lights of Adelaide approached through the darkness. They lit up the impossibly massive buildings, cork-screwing monorails, and giant, elaborate plinths boasting statues of affluent Australians. The largest of these depicted a kangaroo wearing a robe and crown, and the creature was holding aloft the shining continent of Australia with what could only be described as pride on her long face. Scout gazed up at it as they passed, finding the concept of a kangaroo queen more than a little weird, though having travelled a lot of countries by this point, he could recognise that all cultures had their weird little quirks. Admittedly, this one was stranger than most.

"So, we just gonna ignore the elephant in the room?" he said at last, finally growing impatient enough to break the silence. He folded his arms haughtily across his chest and gasped when the action pulled at the stinging wound on his side. It was only then that Sniper glanced over and appraised him with narrowed eyes, his gaze settling on the blood staining Scout's jumper.

"How bad is it?" he asked, ignoring the question.

"Hurts a lot, man. You gonna tell me what the hell that was back there? Did you kill those guys?"

Sniper turned his attention back to the road, his expression becoming somewhat blank.

"Yeah. Had no choice."

Scout remained silent for a moment, waiting for his friend to continue with an explanation. When it became clear there was nothing forthcoming, a surge of anger made him slam a hand against the car door.

"Dude!" he snapped.

Sniper still didn't answer. Instead, he began steering with one hand and held one of his knuckles between his teeth in a display of sudden anxiety. His forehead creased and his skin was rapidly draining of colour. Maybe it was the fact he had just killed some guys without being paid for it – something which apparently went against his code of conduct. Maybe it was the fact they were being pursued by people who, for all Scout knew, wanted to kill them both. The boy was young but he wasn't necessarily stupid, and he could put two and two together. Thankfully, Sniper didn't try to insult his intelligence by spinning a tale, and Scout was pretty sure he would have socked him one if he'd tried.

"They're not tryin' to kill you," the Australian said at last, the low rumble of his voice barely audible over the sound of the car's engine. "They want you back in RED. Despite it bein' our right not to renew our contracts, they only see us as defectors. They're not happy until they own your soul, y'know. I'm happy with my fate as it is, honestly. Better dyin' a slow and painful death than bein' caged under her watch -"

"Don't freakin' say that, man. If you thought that, ya wouldn't have brought me out here to spare me from it. There's gotta me somethin' more behind this. Didn't ya mention something about doin' jobs for her on the side?"

"I did," Sniper muttered, a deeply ominous and reluctant edge creeping into his voice. Scout was suddenly unnerved by his friend's behaviour, finding the expression on his face similar to that of a wounded puppy, and he didn't know what to make of it. There were few things that scared the older man, or so he thought, so the situation was potentially far more serious than was being let on. Why, then, was Scout being left in the dark? Did people think he was dumb enough not to appreciate the severity of a situation? Well – maybe he was, maybe he'd make light of it at the worst possible moments, but maybe he could help, too.

"Well, what did ya find out?" Scout pressed.

"Look, kid, if I could tell ya then you'd already know. If they find out you know anythin' then you'll be in the same boat that I am."

"Yeah? Ya know, after all this, it sounds like I woulda been safer in RED, man," he retorted, and found himself being met with an expression of shock.

"What?"

"You heard. This was meant to be the freakin' holiday of a lifetime! Yeah, it's been amazin' up ta'now, but now we're bein' chased by the Administrator's guys, I'm gonna get kidnapped, maybe if I'm lucky that'll be before I walk in on ya one mornin' and you're, like … dead. Yeah, none a'this woulda happened if I'd just stayed in RED and not got mixed up in your business."

He looked away after that, though he did catch the briefest glimpse of Sniper's uncharacteristic look of dismay, and it hit harder than it perhaps should have. Scout was furious – and for once he thought, yeah, maybe he could justify his anger this time, but he realised that he was far more scared than he was seething. Sniper's mystery illness and this sudden turn of events was rather a lot to take in, and his friend was still choosing to be coy with his answers. When were people going to realise that Scout wasn't a kid anymore? Sure, maybe he acted like it, but he could be more of a help than a hindrance, if only he was given the chance.

"You weren't safer there," Sniper attempted, and it was swiftly becoming apparent that his carefully maintained composure was threatening to crumble at any second. "I promise ya. I'm just tryin' to -"

"Nah! Jeez, this wasn't just gonna go away by vanishin' to some other countries for a while! Any idiot coulda seen that! What happens when I get back to Boston, man? I'm gonna go down the shop to get my Ma some milk and bam! I'm getting dragged into the back of some dodgy guy's car, and two days later there I am back at Twofort stealin' BLU's dumb briefcase. From what you've said, this ain't helpin' anything! It's just delayin' it! What am I gonna do when I get back, huh? Huh, Sniper?"

By that point, Scout had turned and was mere inches from his companion's face as he spoke at him, hands gesturing wildly. Again, he was met with silence, which only infuriated him further.

"I don't get it! If there's such bad stuff goin' on with the boss lady, then why'd you only try to get me outta there? Why didn't ya convince the other guys not to renew their contracts?"

"Scout, I can't -"

"Did you have somethin' against 'em? What made me special enough you had to pull me outta there, huh? I'm startin' to think you were just runnin' away and leavin' everyone else to deal with it like some freakin' coward!"

"That isn't -"

"Ya wanted to get me outta there for a reason, man, but newsflash, there's seven other guys stuck over in the States with no idea what the hell's goin' on -"

Scout saw the violent outburst before it even came. He impacted solidly with the window as the car jolted, turning hard enough that it skidded and screeched a small way across the rain-slick road. Seconds later, they were speeding over the pavement and across a bumpy patch of grass towards a large, white building set aside from the others. A hospital, by the looks of it, and Sniper had avoided the clusterfuck of traffic barring the entrance to the parking lot by hightailing it across part of the tropical gardens outside.

When they were parked rather crookedly across two spaces, Sniper left the car and slammed the door behind him. Scout quickly followed out into the rain and watched as his friend found room to pace with a stiff, awkward gait, his fingers laced behind his head and wielding such a terribly distraught expression that Scout immediately wished he'd waited until they were both calmed down to say anything. On the other hand, he was certain that he deserved some answers.

"I was gonna bring ya with me regardless of whether you asked to come," the assassin explained quickly, turning this way and that in a rare, agitated state. "I needed time! I knew they had it in for me and I needed time to get you away! Not because you're some special bloody snowflake, Scout, but because as friendly as ya are with some of the guys, they're dangerous. The Administrator's just gotta dangle some neat prize in front of some of them and boom, they'll unflinchingly pull the nastiest stints to get her what she wants. We've seen it before! I'm equally as guilty! I can't tell ya some of the things I've done when we weren't workin', and some of the things the likes of Spy, Medic, Engie -"

"You're lyin'," the boy said immediately, hit with a hard and heavy pang of betrayal. He wasn't entirely sure why: any idiot could see that some of the guys were just born to get up to no good, but it all seemed rather a lot more serious than he'd first thought.

"I ain't!" Sniper snapped back. "D'ya think Medic and Engie built the machine that saved your life out of the goodness of their saintly hearts? No, it was built to protect the Administrator's property!"

Scout wrapped his arms around himself and took a step back, so heavily wounded with the information that it was beginning to physically hurt in his chest.

"Spy said ..." he paused, swallowing. "BLU Spy said they made it 'cause I was their Scout -"

"Exactly!" was the almost manic response, and the Australian's voice cracked with such unrestrained emotion that Scout felt like he was looking at an entirely different person. "Think about it! Tryin' to replace a skilled mercenary is bullshit, especially then tryin' to integrate them into a system cleverly enough that they become blind to the shadows lurkin' around every corner. I took you away 'cause you were the one bloke that woman hadn't gotten to, yet! You were the only one not locked around her crooked little pinkie finger and I had no intention of seein' you become like me and the others." Sniper forced laughter and turned away, covering his eyes with his curled fists. "She's reduced me to nothin', gremlin. Her wars took my family from me. She took my craft and made me churn it out on demand like I'm just some freakin' robot. Now, I'm gonna die 'cause I turned around and said no." The man pushed his hands into his dark, sodden hair and lowered himself to the ground, sitting on his ankles like he couldn't bear his own weight anymore. "Worst of all, she's made me scared. Few people have done that. I didn't want her to take the only thing I had left. I don't care if I'm a miserable excuse for the bloke I once was – I know that's the most pathetic thing to ever come outta my mouth, too – I don't care, all I want is for you to get a chance to see the world before you get dragged into a fight for your freedom, 'cause you might not get another chance."

Scout gaped at his friend in disbelief.

They did not have to, but you are their Scout, and you always will be.

It was a lie. They'd had to save him, because things had to return to normal.

He felt … dismantled. He thought the time the guys had banded together to save him had meant something. The world suddenly felt like empty air and he was floating in it, alone.

"Did they make you do it?" he asked quietly, drifting forwards to kneel down beside the older man. "Did they make ya go into the Machina thing to try and save me?"

Sniper slowly dropped onto his knees and clutched them with his hands.

"Yeah. By then, they were done with me. That car accident was meant to finish me off. They hadn't intended on you bein' in the van, too. It only made sense to put the guy on death row in ya head in case anythin' went wrong. But, Scout -" Sniper turned his body slightly and gripped the boy's arm, eyes widening slightly. "I would've done it – you know that. I would've done it either way." His grip tightened. "You know that, right?"

Another pang of betrayal. Scout realised that his hands were shaking and his throat was constricting to an almost dangerous extent. He could hardly breathe, but didn't want to show it because his friend was equally as devastated with everything going on. That much he felt confident in.

"I don't get any of this," the younger man admitted, his voice tight.

"Then let me lay it out," Sniper muttered, his shoulders sagging. "The Administrator thinks ahead. She had plans for all of us, some of which are already partly executed. She had plans for you, too. I can't tell you what they were, but in all honesty, all of this so far? It's been worth the struggle. Don't let 'em force you back into RED, Scout. Even when I'm gone, don't let 'em. I've only managed to keep myself goin' this long 'cause I need ..." Again, his voice cracked. His hand moved to the front of Scout's jumper and gripped a wet handful of it tightly in his fist.

The boy was stunned to feel the assassin's face press into his shoulder. Still too numb to properly process both the new information and Sniper's crumbling resolve, he brought a hand onto the tousled hair tickling his chin and patted it. Then, 'cause it was what his Ma used to do whenever he was upset, he stroked it. Sniper's back shuddered, and Scout was really at a loss for what to do because he hadn't ever witnessed the guy shed a tear, even when the enemy Pyro burnt his leg off that one time, or when he found out his parents had died. Maybe that was it, though. Maybe he just had to get it all out this one time because he had never let himself do it, before. Scout could understand that; he was always letting it out.

"It's okay," he heard himself saying. Weirdly, it didn't sound like him, but it couldn't have been anybody else. The voice sounded way too old and distant. How was he meant to know if everything was okay? He was barely holding it together himself, but he had never been the consoler before, and shit definitely was serious if Sniper was actively seeking some sort of comfort.

"It ain't okay," Sniper grumbled, his voice muffled in the material of Scout's sweater. "I'm not the smartest guy. I coulda handled everythin' far better. The Administrator's pursuit is so aggressive 'cause I pissed her off big time, mate, usually on purpose. I'm sorry for -"

"Look, big guy, you don't gotta apologise for nothin'. You told the Administrator to shove it up her ass! That takes some fuckin' meaty cajones. Let me admire ya, dude." Scout gently pushed Sniper's head back and managed a grin. "Yeah, ya don't look like a badass right now but ya've been a total badass the past five years. I'll tell ya what I'm gonna do, kay? I'm gonna go back to the States and I'm gonna get whoever else I can outta RED. I know none of 'em deserve whatever she' got planned. It's gonna be the best freakin' rebellion against the man! You started this, and I'm gonna finish it for ya when you can't. That's what I wanna do next."

Sniper's forehead creased. "Scout -"

"Nah, ain't gonna hear it, guy. I can't think about any of that right now, kay? Everythin' ya said you did wrong don't matter. All I can think about is that I really don't want ya to die."

His grin swiftly fell as the words passed his lips, because saying it was the hardest thing that he had ever been forced to admit. He'd wanted to deny the inevitable but how could he, now? Sniper didn't look like the tough, unbreakable guy he used to be and it wasn't just because he was obviously stressed, it was because he wasn't feeling okay in other ways, too, and it showed. The Administrator had driven him to this and Scout wanted nothing more than to seek justice, because Sniper had grown to be far more than just a friend.

He'd kind of made up for the fact Scout had never really had a male figure to connect with while he was growing up, because they all left or were just plain jerks. Blessings sometimes came from the strangest places, apparently, but it didn't make them worth any less.

"C'mon, don't be upset about that," Sniper said. Suddenly, he sounded a whole lot more steady, and he was even smirking a little. "I'll always be around in some form, right? Like when ya see anythin' vaguely kangaroo-inspired and ya think of all the jokes you'd say to me. Or when you go get tacos like we did every Saturday with some of the blokes. Or, yeah, when you wear one of the jumpers I made. If you throw them out when I'm gone, you're gonna be dealin' with me in the afterlife, I promise ya that now."

"I won't," Scout promised thickly.

"All right. Now, this is all very touchin', but if it goes on any longer I'm gonna puke, mate. Help me up? Me leg's gone dead."

Scout wiped his nose on his sleeve and stood, holding onto the older man's arms as he, too, pulled himself upright. Sniper glanced away and shook his head, his eyes red raw.

"Piss off and go get that wound checked out. I'll keep an eye out for any dodgy wankers with guns."

The boy waited a moment, reluctant to leave the other guy alone after what had just happened at the house, and he also wanted to drag him into the hospital because it seemed like the right thing to do, but Sniper had fought for his freedom and so he'd have it for however long he had left. Being cooped up in a hospital bed definitely was not his style. It wasn't Scout's, either, come to think of it, but at least the damage caused by the shooting had been fairly minimal.

Even when they were on the road again, nothing from before was mentioned. Neither of them wanted to talk about it, evidently, and it was even more likely that the both of them were slightly embarrassed, but it wasn't like such a conversation could have been avoided. For now, the manner of coping was executed with long, drawn out silences and meaningless small-talk. As much as they both tried to ignore it, there was a shadow chasing them and neither knew what was on the other side.

Scout was eager to return to the States, but Sniper insisted on using the short time they had left to spend some time in other countries to make the most of their trip. Their next stop was Japan. The place was kind of similar to Australia in that it was very advanced in its technologies, though anything here seemed far more streamlined and clean, and most stuff actually talked, too, from vending machines to urinals, everything had a robotic voice offering its help. The people were so polite that Scout wasn't quite sure how to talk back to them, especially considering he had just come from Australia where one wrong look could lead to a broken neck, so he bowed as often as possible and hoped that would suffice.

Their hotel was something quick and cheap outside of the airport. It was a little run down and smelt pretty damp but they needed a rest before moving on. It was only later, when Scout was trying to find his toothbrush in his pack, that it quickly became apparent that the place was also haunted by the eldritch. He happened to glance upwards in an attempt to discover why his light was suddenly flickering, and saw a little boy sat upside-down on the ceiling, his skin deathly pale and eyes dark. With a yelp, Scout bound out of his room and surged down the corridor noisily.

"Sniper!"

The assassin appeared at the end of the dim, creepy corridor and pulled Scout into the utility room there.

"Oi, pillock, stop crashin' about or we're gonna get told to leave. Have you got any laundry?" Sniper turned back to the washing machine against the wall, giving it a kick when it lit up and asked if he wanted to purchase powder for an extra hundred yen.

"Yeah, but I ain't goin' back in my room! There's a freakin' ghost in there!"

"Oh, yeah. I had a ghost lady stood in the corner watchin' me for a while, then she vanished when you came in. They're harmless, mate. Go get your stuff, unless you wanna smell like a donkey's arse for the next few days."

"Ah, jeez! I. Hate. Ghosts!"

Scout dashed back to his room and, covering his eyes with his arm, grabbed his entire pack and made off with it before anything out of the ordinary could happen. Unfortunately, when he entered the utility room and quickly slammed the door shut again, the lady ghost was back and watching Sniper fill the machine with a morbid curiosity. At least, it looked like she was watching him. It was hard to tell through her thick curtain of black hair. Scout squeaked and bound behind Sniper, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him backwards, much to the Australian's surprise.

"Agh, geroff me, ya little whacko!" Sniper barked. "It's just a flippin' ghost! Watch this." Wrestling himself out of the boy's hold, the assassin marched forwards, picked up the ghost as if she weighed nothing more than a feather, and plopped her back down into her corner. There she stayed, seemingly perplexed by what had just happened. "Stayed in a lot of dodgy places in my time. Seen a lot of ghosts. These ones are real beauts. Proper creepy."

Scout blinked, then began unloading his clothes from his pack, keeping an eye on the ghost as he did.

"That was cool but you're a damn weirdo, man."

He ended up spending the night in his friend's room with the excuse that his radiator was rattling too loudly – which it was, but there was every chance it was being caused by some invisible, malicious entity – and slept on the floor on his bedroll somewhere close to Sniper's bed. Well, tried to sleep, anyway, as every so often, the windows would shake, the door to the en suite would flap around, and something in the closet would sing old, Japanese lullabies. By the time it hit midnight, Scout was clambering into Sniper's bed and burying himself beneath the quilt. It didn't quite matter that the both of them were in nothing but their underpants; sharing space was of the utmost importance in stupid, haunted hotels.

Suddenly remembering something, he reached down to his pack and pulled a box from one of the side pockets before shaking Sniper's shoulder.

"Hey, you awake?"

"I am now," Sniper grumbled, rolling to turn his back to the boy, and added in a groggy tone, "I told ya, that thing under the bed ain't gonna snatch ya."

"What thing?" Scout hissed, then sighed and reached around his friend to push the box into his palm. "Happy birthday, man."

He was met with what sounded like a cross between a snore and a groan, and Sniper pushed himself upwards to sit cross-legged and stare at the box for a moment.

"I can't believe you remembered. Are ya finally askin' me to marry ya? I can't commend your choice of settin', really."

Scout could see the guy's filthy grin even in the darkness. He grabbed a pillow and smacked the side of the assassin's head, guffawing.

"Yeah, yeah. Just open it."

He'd been given the small charm in Tibet by one of the monks he'd met and shared tea with. It was old, supposedly, and made of real jade, a small dragon's head that had its origins in China. It was a symbol of good luck and had apparently been held by men who had succeeded in finding enlightenment, and so was thought to bring its bearer inner peace. Scout had tried to offer money for it, but the monk had declined, saying that he believed it was important to give the gift of peace to those in need.

Maybe the monk had known something he hadn't, because their journey had definitely been anything but peaceful, and now they had so much more looming over their heads. He could see Sniper holding the charm up and feeling it to try and make out what it was. Kneeling up, he moved behind him and untied the black cord around the Australian's neck that boasted a single, enormous crocodile tooth, then took the charm and slid it on with the small, golden hoop attached to it.

"It's a jade dragon, meant to bring good luck and inner peace or some shit. Look, I know ya don't believe in that kinda stuff, but the guys I got it from put a lotta value in it so it's gotta be worth somethin', right? You need it the most outta the two of us." After tying the cord, Scout yawned and laid back down to try and sleep. He could sense that Sniper wasn't moving. Had he gotten too up close and personal? Feeling heat prickling his cheeks, he rolled over so that he was facing the other way, though it was difficult creating any kind of distance when they were sharing a single bed. Eventually, he felt Sniper shift and settle down again.

"Thank you, gremlin."

The gratitude in the guy's tone was genuine, as far as Scout could tell, and he felt a surge of relief.

"Yeah, no worries. It's got stories behind it but no one knows what they are. Made me think of ya. That, and it's old as fuck."

Sniper laughed his gravelly, indecent laugh.

The next morning, after bidding a hurried farewell to the ghosts that had accumulated in their room overnight, the two got a bus to the nearest train station. Scout had no idea where they were going, but Sniper seemed to have a plan, and the boy was happy to let the guy lead the way. The assassin seemed to be in a far better mood, at least, compared to the day before, and he was wearing his hat and sunglasses which made him seem more himself. Scout certainly felt better wearing clean clothes, though he was feeling rather more anxious than suited him, checking over his shoulder on occasion. Sniper was more obvious about it, particularly when they were waiting for the next high-speed train out of there, leaning against a pole with his arms folded and glaring at everything that moved in his near vicinity.

The train pulled in within ten minutes of them being there. It's exterior shone like pearls and it was weirdly rounded, not like the grubby, square-ish trains in Boston, and when it moved it was near enough silent. Excited to get on and see the innards, Scout grabbed Sniper's arm and tugged him onboard. It was as expected. Pure white with flat screens along the tops of the windows displaying moving advertisements. Strangely, there weren't many seats at all. Instead, between the windows, there were rows of what looked like the things that came over people's heads on roller coasters and kept them in place. That was what distinguished the natives from the tourists as people joined them on the train: most buckled themselves into the safety devices offered, whereas others were too busy exploring the place to worry about that.

A voice sounded on the system – and then Scout felt himself being flung across the train carriage as the enormous vehicle entered high-speed in an impossibly short amount of time. He bounced along the carpeted floor and ended up becoming pinned to the opposite wall, quickly followed by all the other dumbasses who thought they wouldn't need the buckles to keep them in one place. Sniper ended up sprawled across his lap, and then they were near enough crushed by a wave of flowery shirts and sandals as all of the tourists were forced backwards. Scout tried to move but couldn't, for his limbs felt like they were weighted down with lead as the train travelled across the Japanese countryside at remarkable speeds, and he soon felt too sick to even continue trying.

When the journey was over some half an hour later, the boy dragged himself along the carpet and then allowed Sniper to pull him off the train by the hand, flopping onto the platform like a wet noodle.

"That was awesome," he managed weakly, then grabbed his stomach and groaned as he was pulled onto the nearest bench. "Where the hell are we?"

"Kyoto," Sniper answered gruffly, clearly unimpressed with the journey. "You'll like it. It's a big city."

Indeed, the station was enormous and one of the busiest places that Scout had seen during their trip. Businessmen and women hurried to and from platforms as the rush hour approached an end, and, unlike Scout and Sniper, entirely unruffled despite their manner of travel. Somebody was busking not too far away, skilfully playing a shamisen, and there were a number of stalls set up along the station walls selling traditional snacks and filling the air with a pleasant, mouthwatering scent.

"Cool," Scout said with a smile, then winced as a sudden pain flared on his side. Quickly moving a hand to it, his shirt felt wet, and he realised that his wound was bleeding having landed on it whilst tumbling over the first five times on the train. The Australians had, in all fairness, offered to laser the wound shut, but Scout had less-than-politely declined when the doctor aimed some kind of high-tech cannon at him, so he was stuck with stitches instead.

"There's gotta be some first aid guys around here," Sniper murmured, taking one glance at Scout's bloody shirt before standing and looking around.

"Uh … Yeah, can't you sort it? I really don't wanna get circumcised, man."

The assassin snorted. "It's cauterised, you flamin' dingo, and you'll have to bloody deal with it. C'mon, I think there's a place over there."

Once they were both feeling rather less giddy, they made their way up to the first floor of the station, where there was a small place with a red cross on the sign above the doors. Apparently, accidents were fairly common in the station, as there was a queue to the front-desk mostly composed of mothers and their children. After ordering Scout to sit down in the waiting area, Sniper eventually reached the desk and gestured over to his companion after signing the appropriate form. Meanwhile, Scout was leaning back and watching as a group of men clad in what looked like black and purple armoured uniforms attempted to push a new delivery through the glass doors. Far more interesting, however, was what was written on the side of the box they were struggling to wheel through the narrow space:

Deus ex Machina: Now 100% more invasive!

Scout's heart leapt into his throat. Scrabbling to his feet, he met Sniper midway and wildly gestured at the box.

"Dude, look! It's Engie's machine!"

He hadn't quite expected his friend to slam a hand over his mouth and haul him off towards the corner of the room. With the amount of people that were present, it was easy to get lost between them and eventually make a beeline for the doors once the deliverymen were through it. Annoyed, Scout tried to pull Sniper's hand from his face but found that it was virtually melded on, even when the assassin pulled him onto the nearest escalator heading to the ground floor. It earned them some strange looks, so Scout jabbed a finger into his friend's side to signal that they were drawing attention.

"What the hell, man?" the boy hissed, glancing back towards the first floor, but Sniper pulled on his arm to force him to look ahead again.

"Stop lookin'. Those guys work for the Administrator."

"Wha? How can ya tell?"

"That uniform. Those blokes weren't standard deliverymen."

Confused, Scout simply allowed Sniper to lead him about the station. They quickly exchanged some cash, picked up an expensive first aid kit in the store, and then ventured upstairs to find a bathroom of some sort. They eventually came across what looked like a VIP area that was currently out of use. Sniper ducked under the velvet rope that was barring the way and swiftly broke the lock to the bathroom door with his shoulder. Nervously glancing around for a moment, Scout jogged forwards and into the room to discover it was rather more pleasant than expected. It was painted red and had a cosy seating area with leather couches and a low table with flowers on it. The sinks and toilet cubicles were immaculate.

The boy pulled off his shirt as Sniper worked on barring the door with a mop pole that had been sat in the near corner. Sitting on one of the couches, he grabbed the first aid kit and quickly set about cleaning the open wound on his side. It was hurting a hell of a lot more than it was earlier, especially when he dabbed disinfectant on and around it, and it looked gross, too.

"What happened?" he asked, moving an arm back to give his friend access to the wound when the guy sat down beside him.

"There was a chance they might've recognised us," Sniper muttered, taking off his hat and pushing his glasses up into his hair. He snapped on a pair of white gloves and then picked up the small pair of scissors provided in the box. "I'm gonna pull the old stitches out. It's gonna hurt, mate."

"Why were they deliverin' Engie's machine to that place?" Scout asked, partially out of curiosity and partially to distract himself from the oncoming pain. Once it started, it wasn't too bad, but enough to make his eyes begin to water, much to his dismay.

"I don't know. My guess is it's bein' dished out globally. Maybe some media outlet caught wind of it, and now everybody wants one. One thing's for sure, the Administrator's gonna be rollin' in it more than she already was, I tell ya that now."

"Not Engie? Didn't he invent it with Medic's help?"

Sniper shook his head briefly. "Not Engie. He's under the Administrator's employment. I suppose that machine comes with the company's stamp. It was made usin' her resources, after all. Now, stop fidgetin'. You're lucky this thing ain't infected. Sorry we couldn't get a professional to do this."

"It's cool," Scout said with a wince, immediately stopping his attempt to lean as far away from the scissors as possible. "I prefer it when you do it. Ya've got them steady hands."

"Yeah. Not so steady right now." The Australian held up one hand to show that it was shaking. Regardless, once he was done pulling the thread out, he took his lighter and began running the length of a needle through the flame over and over until he was satisfied.

The entire process was agonising. Scout bit down on a finger and curled up in on himself in the corner of the couch, forcing Sniper to awkwardly lean over him. Still, the Aussie always did have a weirdly warm body, and so that, at least, provided some degree of comfort when Scout leaned back a little in an attempt to find something to brace himself against in response to the pain. Maybe he'd just soaked in all that solar energy in the Outback. Who knew? Or maybe it just felt nice because it was a presence that wasn't going to be around for much longer. He didn't want to think about it, especially after the past few trying days, but whenever they were alone and in a quiet space, or whenever Sniper did something nice, he just couldn't help it.

"Hey, Snipes?" he began, trying to turn his head a little.

"Mm?"

"You're sure the Machina thing can't save ya?" After a moment, he felt the older man's chest move in a quiet sigh.

"That thing is designed to force the brain to heal itself. The problem ain't in my head, gremlin – not yet. It could save my brain but I'd be stuck in a bed livin' off machines for the rest of my life. Maybe that's fine for some people, but not for me. Besides, I prefer havin' two feet set in the real world, not some imaginary cuckoo land."

"I hear ya, but … doncha think it's kinda weird that place wasn't even a hospital and it got one? All they do all day is put bandaids on kids' knees. Why the hell would they need with somethin' like the Machina?"

Sniper cut the remaining thread and gave his companion a pat on the side. "Now, that's a question, Scoot. I'm sure you'll find out one day. Stand up and let's get a look at you."

A little annoyed that the conversation was being dismissed, the boy pushed himself upright and moved his arm around several times to make sure the stitches wouldn't hurt and impede his movement too much. Surprisingly, it felt much better, especially when his friend cleaned it off a final time with cooling water. Once a small dressing was in place, Scout pulled on a fresh shirt from his pack and tossed the bloodstained one into the bin in the corner. Before Sniper could dislodge the mop pole from the door, Scout reached forwards and grabbed his arm to pause him.

"What, doncha want me to go in after ya when you're hangin' on by a thread? Like ya did for me?"

"That was different," the assassin growled, but he didn't move, keeping his back to the boy. "If ya die in there, you'll die for real. Ya know that."

"Well, ya've killed me plenty in the past, ya shit-tempered fuck. Why do ya care so much now?"

There came another, semi-awkward pause, but Scout didn't remove his hand from Sniper's arm. He wasn't quite sure why he was asking the question when it really was so obvious: they'd had the respawn back then, and death didn't have the same consequences it did in the real world. For some reason, he just yearned for confirmation from the guy himself. What he got instead perhaps only succeeded in confusing him all the more.

"A lot's changed since then."