Beginning notes:
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Don't be afraid to criticize! I want to improve as a writer and any sort of critique or analysis is welcomed!
Chapter 13: Originals And Operant Conditioning
Tavish was examining Jeremy's arm wound while Sniper discussed with Heavy their strategy. The Scot wasn't listening much to their conversation, knowing he'd get a detailed description later, and he focused his efforts on re-bandaging Jeremy's arm.
There was still blood that clotted in his wound, seeping through the bandages. But, luckily, it was more controlled, and Jeremy was more coherent than he was when he and Sniper found them. Although Tavish lacked medical training, he had enough to bandage a wound.
As he did so, Jeremy said nothing. The normally chatty man's silence was strange, but then again, all of them had had a long day. If any of them came out of this without suffering from severe trauma, he'd be shocked.
Tavish knows he sure as hell won't get a good night's sleep for the next few months.
Even during the quiet moments when they all got breathers from those monsters, those memories lingered in the back of his mind, always there, speaking loudly and taunting him. He knew they wouldn't have stayed for long in the Medics exam room, but he still hoped they could've stayed for at least a day longer so that he wouldn't run into those monsters again.
Monsters… It wasn't easy for him to face the fact that he saw Heavy's corpse reanimate into a monster. He didn't even want to think about it until Medic forced him to. Hell, reanimating wouldn't even come close to describing the scene.
Tavish stumbled through the halls, holding onto the wooden walls to stop himself from collapsing. His stomach was clenching, bile rising in his throat as nausea clambered within him.
He didn't know where he was going; maybe he was looking for a quiet place he could black out? Or maybe he was looking for a temporary, peaceful place to die until he respawned. He probably figured dying in the respawn room was the best place to be, since he wouldn't need to go far to find any supplies that might've not spawned in with him.
Because of how often he drank, his memory was fucked, so remembering details like that was few and far in between. He supposed it didn't matter much if he did remember details like that, anyway. His teammates were the ones in charge of stuff like that.
So Tavish staggered to the respawn room like a man on an extremely useless mission.
The base wasn't very large, not as large as the BLU's base was, and it only took maybe 5-6 minutes to reach the respawn room.
While he stumbled to the room, he heard muffled yelling coming from what he thought was outside. There were screams and yelling, shouting, along with crying. The noises echoed in the hallways, though he spun away and continued on his way. The team was always noisy, even on the gloomiest of days. It was both a blessing and a curse, depending on Tavish's mood.
Nothing was out of place in the respawn room by the time he reached it, and he tilted his head back to finish drinking the last of his scrumpy, tossing it to the corner of the respawn room where his bottle's dumping ground was—lovingly nicknamed "the scrumpy corner" by the lads.
He then collapsed on the bench and felt his head hit the wall, sliding sideways until he was lying down. He swallowed the vomit rising in his throat and waited for either his alcohol poisoning to kill him or to just blackout.
Silence rang, and he blinked slowly, his eyes shutting to soak in the quiet. He lied on the bench waiting for something to happen, either death or just waking up in his own vomit with a splitting headache.
It was odd how comfortable he was with dying, when only five years ago he was trying to keep himself alive for his mum. He kept himself healthy, exercised daily, and tried keeping away from drinking so that he wouldn't die before her. Yet he fell into the bad habit of relying on the respawn machine. It was easy to, convenient, because all it would take to be healthy again was simply dying.
He would've been worried about that. It was obvious to anyone with a brain that he had depression. But his life was already a shit show that he couldn't bring himself to care.
From the second he was born, his life was already destined to be a shitshow. Fated to be the damn clown in a comedy skit. Fated to lose his last eye after he turned thirty, forced to fight day in and day out against his own clone, swallowing his grief at killing his own parents, and fighting monsters ever since he found out they were real at the ripe age of 7, after killing fucking Nessie herself. What a joke.
Tavish thickly swallowed, and he tried to drown out his never ending rumination by listening to the faint ringing in his ears.
He was thinking too much.
Here he was, crying and whining about his life, even if it was in his own mind. He felt pathetic without having the momentary escape that the bevvy's provided, just as he felt pathetic having to rely on that quick escape.
But what else was there to think about? Death, death, death. It was such a common theme in his life. Maybe he should marry her, seeing as she liked to appear in his life often? Get a nice wedding in the graveyard, put a wedding veil atop the statue of the angel of death's head, and drink himself to death before collapsing in a burial site he dug out himself.
Tavish groaned, and he pinched his brows together. Too much thinking.
His head was ringing too much to think clearly, head pounding, that he almost missed the scream.
A blood-curdling scream of pure anguish.
Tavish sluggishly tore open his eye and blinked the blurry vision out of it, blinking his eyes rhythmically to see what was causing the noise. The sound was familiar yet unfamiliar, and while he would mostly ignore it, it was too anguished to ignore.
Did one of the mates die or something?
"The feck's goin' on? Was goin' on?" He muttered, slurring.
There was a blurry, large blob in front of him, squirming on the ground and screaming ceaselessly until their voice was hoarse. The figure moved from the wall to the shutters and caused loud banging as they did so, and Demo squinted to clear his vision.
There was a large back facing away from him, though he knew who it belonged to.
"Heavy, lad…? Was got you screamin' like that? Medic didn't get ya pregnant yet, did he? Ah, shit, hope yer water didn't break. That'd be annoyin' to deal with." He continued speaking while rubbing his eye, before nervously chuckling at the continued screaming, jokingly adding. "Ye… alright, big guy? Ya never scream like that. Got me worried 'bout you."
There wasn't an answer.
The screaming had ceased.
God.
He had turned to look at him.
God help him.
Tavish's eyes had widened, and he sobered immediately.
GOD HELP HIM.
The Scot wasn't sure what to make of it; it looked like candle wax melting, and it was odd because arms don't melt like that. He knew they didn't from the chemistry lessons he took as a young kid to help with his explosives. Nothing melted biological matter like that.
"Hey, Heavy, mate." Tavish stood up immediately while calling out to him.
He staggered to the giant's side and hovered his hands over the melting arm, its waxed texture like waves on his skin. If it weren't for his uniform, he wouldn't have even known it was Heavy.
"I ain't a doctor, but this ain't lookin' good. Lad-"
Heavy interrupted him by suddenly speaking through a garbled voice, too soft in comparison to his normally gruff way of talking. "There is… monster. Attacked me, the Pyro, and the Scout…" He spoke with pauses in between words, the words sounding as if they were grating on his vocal chords.
Tavish's mind, though, blanked at the answer.
Monster? If it were anyone else, he wouldn't believe them; he couldn't even bring himself to believe Heavy. But it was Heavy. Heavy was never the joking type. Besides that, they've all had an experience with some sort of monster, whether that was because of magic or some other second-hand source, so hearing about a monster wasn't far-fetched.
There was also no reason to not believe him with his entire body melting.
"Heavy, lad-"
"Think there is… something… wrong."
Heavy straightened, and he was too tall.
The Russian was already tall. But he was tall.
He touched the ceiling and loomed over Demo, and Demo froze, too in awe and shock to move.
"Think… you… should… run."
"You good?"
Tavish's eyes snapped open when the voice intruded in his thoughts, his hands having dropped to his sides as he saw that he finished bandaging Jeremy's wounds. He hadn't realised he closed his eyes.
He breathed through his nose to calm his breathing, leaning back against the cough sluggishly. "Aye, yeah, 'm good. Just ain't feelin' too hot. Think 'm havin' withdrawals."
"Figured, it's weird seein' you be all… not drunk." Jeremy said in a joking manner, though his face betrayed his weirded out expression.
"Aye." He replied shortly.
"Hey, once we're outta the woods here, wanna get a drink with me and the other guys? 'Cause I think we're gonna need it after this clusterfuck." Jeremy asked, smirking playfully. Though there was still a hint of exhaustion and dread in his eyes, as if he didn't fully believe his own words.
"Yeah…" If this problem is ever fixed.
The two became quiet and Tavish's mind wandered back to Heavy. Their Heavy. His screams were engraved, echoing in the chambers of his mind.
He ran like he told him to. He didn't know what to do to help him, if he could help him. Originally, he thought some sort of magic caused the monsters, although that wasn't the case since the monsters were unlike anything he's ever seen.
Heavy had mindlessly chased him around the base, destroying the shutter doors of the respawn room, and he had ended up being absorbed into the bigger monster after he ran into Scout and Engineer fighting each other.
Tavish wouldn't have been as afraid of becoming a monster if it wasn't for Heavy yelling, repeatedly, that it was the best option for him to be absorbed by the bigger monster, the better option. That he didn't want to be alone, that it was to "protect" the team.
Tavish didn't know if Heavy was still aware of himself, or if he genuinely thought it was a good idea to conjoin with the bigger monster.
Did it even matter now?
Jeremy and Tavish had a chance of becoming a monster. There was a chance that he'll become just like Heavy and try to be absorbed by the bigger monster. What was even the point in fighting?
Fucking hell, maybe this was just God's punishment for him avoiding death all this time? Or maybe even the mistress herself getting pissy that he's managed to jump over his own grave. Can't get rid of the goddamn cockroaches, so they decided the best course of action was to trap them for eternity in their own personal hells.
What a goddamn life he's led.
Began tragically and is going to end tragically.
Tavish frowned and stared up at the ceiling blankly. No thinking. Way too much thinking for him as of late.
He gazed anywhere to distract his mind, trying to fill it with something else that wasn't his doomed tragedy of a life. His gaze wandered before it finally landed on the gun in Jeremy's pocket.
It looked kind of like Spy's revolver, and based on the women burned into the gun's handles metal, it most likely was. Now that he thought about it, Scout was also holding that gun earlier, too.
"Ya shot Scout with that gun, didn't you?" Tavish asked curiously.
Jeremy blinked at the sudden question, but took out the revolver and showed it to him, flashing him a toothy grin full of pride. "Yup, shot him straight between the eyes like 'pow!' You were there. Ya saw how badass I looked. Asshole didn't know what was happening 'til-"
"Shut yer gob, 'cause of that shit ye pulled, me and Sniper had to go find him."
Jeremy huffed and rested his chin on his palm, leaning against the couch's arm. "Yeah, but ya got Heavy outta that. Way better trade off if ya ask me."
Tavish frowned and let the comment linger in the air. In all honesty, it was a better trade-off. If BLU Heavy was anything like their Heavy, he'd be easier to deal with than Scout. BLU Heavy could also deal with Medic if he went out of line.
At least that's what he thought.
That obviously wasn't true, since Medic treats him like he was only a close coworker at best and a nuisance at worst. Plus much help that did thinking he would prevent him from stepping out of line, they ended up getting into a scrap anyway.
Medic was just always a bastard, wasn't he? He was a creepy ass bastard with a staring kink, problems that are spitting him directly in the face that he refuses to acknowledge, a stupid clone who prides himself on being someone else, and who favours Scout, the one man who he shouldn't trust with his life considering the amount of times he left him for dead on the field, over Heavy, the one person who would have his back for eternity.
Tavish wanted to insult Medic some more, maybe punch his face some more until it was beyond recognisable, but he couldn't find any other insults.
Because at some point, he realised Medic had a good enough reason to be cynical about life like Tavish does, and even worse, Tavish felt bad for the guy. Apologetic and guilty for all the shit thrown at the BLU team.
He felt bad for all the BLU's and for what everyone on the RED team did to them. He became soft towards them again, like he did when he and Soldier were still friends.
Being aware was the worst. Not talking about his problems was why he even started drinking, and now he was forced to actually confront them. He was forced to confront everything that he, the RED team, and their bosses had done to them.
The only imperfections the clones had were their physical bodies and personalities, and even then, the change in their personalities was everyone's fault.
What the actual fuck was wrong with them all? The BLU team were their clones; they had their memories, their everything before they changed, and yet they all turned against them because of what? The fact they died in the cold? That they weren't their exact copies?
Or did their attitudes change towards them after Miss Pauling started treating them like they were nothing? Jeremy followed first, then the rest of the team one by one started treating the clones differently as well. It was like they were mindless sheep.
Tavish was ill at the thought.
Miss Pauling had warped them to think differently, right from under their noses, too.
Was she always that manipulative?
But why does she hate them? She ain't a bad boss; she was actually the best boss Tavish ever had. She treated them right, and he'd be loyal to her if she asked and gave the right price. But why did she treat the clones differently?
He leaned further back into the couch and rubbed his face. Groaning through his hands. Too. Much. Thinking.
"Oi, mate, you alright?" An Australian-accented voice asked from beside him.
Tavish dropped his hands onto his lap, and his forehead became crestfallen. "Nah, I ain't. Gammy arm, ain't gotten a drop of bevvy yet, and there's monsters roaming about. Don't suppose you're doin' any better?"
"Nah." Came Sniper's simple reply.
"So, what's the plan you two came up with?" Tavish questioned, pushing himself off the couch with a groan.
Sniper smirked at the noise he made. "Ya sound like an old man."
"Bite yer tongue, ya walloper."
"Thanks." He replied, still wearing that smirk.
"Ain't a compliment."
"Any insult is a compliment to an Aussie."
"Yeah, whatever," Tavish waved him off and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Whaddya got for a plan?"
Medic, who was still tweaking the last remains of the Medi-gun, tilted his head in their direction. His hands had momentarily paused to look at them. Jeremy beside him had started paying closer attention while Heavy stood a little away from them, packing a bag.
"Right, what we came up with so far is that I'll be snatchin' up the BLU Spy while Heavy here'll find the Medi-gun, then we'll meet at the garage. Once we get the goods, we'll take one of the extra trucks to come back to the BLU base. It'd be safer for us to stay back, with the monsters still having their intelligence and all." Explained Sniper, straightening his glasses and wiping small bits of crusted blood off the rims.
"Yeah, that sounds good and all, but what about the noise? Wouldn't that attract the monsters?" Jeremy questioned.
"Wouldn't worry 'bout that," Tavish said as he sniffed. Heavy's scream was in the back of his mind. It was too prominent. Still too clear, despite having heard it yesterday. He wanted to forget it. "The monsters are loud. Wouldn't know if they were attacking one of their own."
Heavy grunts in agreement.
"'Kay, so what's the time frame here? 20 minutes or something?" Inquired Jeremy.
Medic hummed mutedly before saying. "No, it might take some time for us to find Scout. An hour to four at best would work."
Jeremy frowned when he used his first name. "So what about those halls, then? The lights were off, yeah? And those monsters're still around; ya can't hide from 'em for long when the hallways are hallways."
Demo thought about it. Scout was surprisingly right. They wouldn't have the time to go to the control room before heading to the respawn room. It'd take off too much looking for Scout.
He pondered what the best option would be before deciding to take a page out of Miss Pauling's book.
"Uh, laddie, you run fast, eh?" He said to Jeremy.
The four men gave him a weird look.
"Uh, yeah, that's like my whole shtick." Jeremy said, cocking a brow quizzingly.
"Then…" shit, what would Miss Pauling say? "How's 'bout you go turn the lights on?"
Jeremy straightened, and his eyes blew wide, bulging from their sockets, while Sniper looked shocked either at Demo's sudden attitude shift or at the idea of sending Jeremy off alone. Medic and Heavy stared on curiously, wondering what he was trying to do.
"You're totally braver than us. We ain't good at runnin' either since you would need to circle 'round back to the respawn room to meet us. It'd save us time and effort, and in case you run into a monster, ye can be outta there lickety split. Not like me and Medic, we ain't good runners."
Demo knew that was a lie, since both Medics were good at running. They were also strong because of how much they hauled the Medi-guns day in and day out. If the two classes weren't hellbent on being Medic's, he wouldn't have been surprised if they became a class like Soldier's.
Jeremy pinched his lips, chewing the inside of them in thought as Sniper patted his back softly and leaned down to mutter in his ear.
"Mate, if he's taken by the monsters, I'm gonna be pissed. It took me a long time to haul his ass here and stop him from dying."
"It's our only choice." Demo murmured back.
Sniper frowned before stepping away from him and looking back at Jeremy, who, while normally giving a brave face with some bravado whenever he was complimented, instead frowned.
"Uh, yeah, sure. Yeah, I can totally go turn the lights back on. How, uh, far's the control room from here?" Tavish could practically hear the gulp in his voice.
"20 minutes," answered Medic.
"I could totally do that."
"According to Scout, at least if he's running at full speed."
"Medic." Tavish sharply warned him, staring the doctor in the eyes, to which the corner of his lip twitched slightly.
"Then I'll just get there faster. Easy peasy."
"Atta boy." Tavish said.
"Once Jeremy turns it on, we'll meet you around the respawn room. We'll give you around 40 minutes to meet with us. If you are not there, we'll meet you back here." Medic explained.
Jeremy huffed, shoving his hand in his pocket. "And how do I find the control room? This place is like a freaking maze."
"There are signs and maps on the walls." He said. He then gazed unsurely at him when Jeremy gave him a blank look. "Right, you're illiterate. The map has pictures."
"Cool."
"To reiterate: I'll respawn, find BLU Spy, Heavy will find the Medi-gun, Scou—Jeremy's gonna turn the lights on, and Medic and Demo are gonna go find Scout? Am I missing something?" Sniper asked after reiterating.
Tavish nodded. "Nah, yeah, that be the plan."
Heavy threw the bag he was packing over his shoulder, and he then clutched the knife wound again to stop the extra bleeding.
"I am ready." He said.
Medic, without saying anything, flicked the lever of the Medi-gun back on, and a blue beam began honing on Heavy. They watched as the knife was spat out from his abdomen. The exhaustion in his expression vanished, and cuts and bruises Tavish couldn't see before disappeared.
While Sniper picked his knife back up, Heavy breathed in deeply and patted the area, nodding to him. "Thank you, doktor."
"The Medi-gun isn't completely fixed, so don't run around much in case there's still internal damage."
Heavy grunts, and Medic nodded briefly before he turned the Medi-gun on himself, speaking to Sniper while healing himself. "My gun is on the shelf over there. You can use it on yourself whenever you'd like."
Sniper nodded, and he walked towards the gun, inspecting the weapon like it was a foreign object. There was a moment before he brought it to his head, figuring out the control figure and adjusting his finger over the trigger.
It was odd to Tavish how familiar this sight was. If Tavish was a normal person, he'd be calling him crazy.
There was then a shot that reverberated throughout the room.
Sniper's body crumpled to the floor, the light in his eyes fading, and five seconds later, it disappeared in the blink of an eye.
"He got blood on my floor." Medic said, his frown deepening.
"We will clean later." Heavy then adjusted the bag once more before nodding to the two remaining RED's. "Good luck."
Jeremy blinked in surprise but slowly nodded. "Uh, you too, big guy."
Heavy walked towards the door, it creaking with a slow open, before he quietly shut it behind him. His footsteps echoed in the halls, and they momentarily listened to them, listening as they disappeared down the halls.
Medic turned the Medi-gun off, and he rolled his shoulder, picking up the gun Sniper used on himself from off the floor.
"I suppose we should be leaving too?"
"Aye." Tavish said in agreement.
Medics' eyes then went to the gun Jeremy was holding, seeing the Boston suddenly eye him warily. "Would you mind giving me that gun?" He asked him quietly.
"Why?"
"Because I'll reload it." As Medic spoke, he put on a belt and holstered his gun. "I doubt it belongs to our Spy, given that our Spy doesn't have the image of a woman engraved on the handle."
Jeremy frowned, glancing down at the handle and making a weird face. Tavish couldn't discern the expression he was making, but reluctantly, he handed the revolver over to the Medic.
"Danke."
"Sure, whatever, make sure to give it back to me. I need to burn it later."
'Burn it?' Tavish thought, though Medic merely hummed and holstered the gun on his other hip.
"Are we ready?" He asked Tavish.
"Aye," He turned to the door, and his brows knitted together, breathing slowly to calm his thumping heart. "Yeah, let's go."
They exited the room, and the door echoed in the concrete hallways as it shut.
Jeremy glanced at the map on the wall and slowed to a stop mid-run to study it. Unlike his reading skill, he could read a map, no problem.
When he was still a street rat picking up odd jobs, knowing the best hiding places came in handy when hiding from the fuzz or rival gang members. His brothers literally bashed it into his head to know those sorts of stuff, 'specially his other brother.
His brother was always smarter than him, and there was a reason he was the right hand to a powerful man. And unlike his other brothers, he had enough patience with him to actually teach him how to read a map. If he ever gets back to his family, he'll definitely thank him for teaching him and maybe even bring him out for some chicken.
After looking at the map, which had a symbol for the control room to his south side, he hopped in place to warm himself up, stretching his legs and arms… arm. He hoped he was getting a better time than Scout, 'cause he sure as hell was flying through this base like it was nothing.
He had enough stamina to keep himself moving, and since he had a high enough pain tolerance, jostling his arm wound didn't hurt much as he sprinted through the hallways. Which was a good thing, since he didn't want to run into any monsters. The building gave him the creeps and knowing that there were several of those monsters just wandering around didn't quell his fears.
If he ran into a monster, there was no knowing what would happen. Of course he could fight it off—he won't lose that battle. He knows he won't—but his arm was still inside that monster, so dying wasn't a choice he had, and there was too much of a risk to try fighting it because of how easily it absorbed Heavy.
He would never say these words out loud, but he didn't want to be alone here. He'd take that creepy BLU Doc over being alone in this maze anytime of the day.
Thankfully, the route to the control room was straightforward, only having to go around the occasional turns. Given the size of this base, he had no clue how the BLU assholes managed to get anywhere. Whenever he peeked into a room he was running by with a window on the door, there was nothing inside. So that obviously meant that half of the rooms weren't even being used.
Why'd that Blutarch even give them this big of a base? He thought both brothers were corrupt, geezy old bastards who wouldn't even give a cent to them unless absolutely necessary. Well, obviously, that wasn't the case with how big the BLU's base was. Maybe he just liked flaunting more than Redmond?
Jeremy let the questions pass through his mind. He honestly didn't give a shit. All he cared about was getting paid at the end of the day.
As he dashed through the corridors, Jeremy occasionally glanced at the walls in search of maps.
There weren't many maps on the walls like he thought, but there was still enough that he knew where he needed to go.
Still, it was pretty much a marathon and a half to reach the control room. He frowned though controlled his breathing to keep himself from running out of breath, feet tapping lightly against the concrete, while the silence of the hallway pounded in his ears.
There wasn't much he could do about that. It was still annoying as all hell though, and he was going to complain about this to Miss P later.
Oh man, it'd be so embarrassing and a bitch if he had to go back because he didn't know how to use the control deck. Thank god he actually listened to Soldier's ramblings about how the controls work. He would've been so boned if he hadn't.
He thought it would've been useless to learn, and the only reason he had even listened to Soldier in the first place was because, for starters, he had just met the guy, and secondly, he was being so ridiculous about it that his explanations were just flat out hilarious—going on about how the controls were like eagles and stuff, and how knowing how to operate the system was to protect America.
Jeremy lightly laughed to himself at the memory, but the thoughts vanished when he saw that he was ten minutes away from reaching the control room.
He gruffly sighed through his nose and set his mind to reaching the place first.
Why the hell didn't they have cars or scooters to get anywhere on this base?
"We shouldn't have let him go off on his own." Tavish muttered after Jeremy left a couple of minutes ago.
"And why's that?" Medic questioned.
"Does he know how the controls work?"
Medic was silent.
"Let's hope he knows how they work."
Tavish hummed, and they continued down the hall without speaking to each other.
The halls stretched endlessly, mixing together that if it weren't for the signs and maps on the walls, he would've been trying to use magic to see if he was stuck in some sort of time loop.
Too grey, too suffocating, yet too large.
He wasn't sure how the BLU team hadn't lost their minds in this base yet.
He looked over at Medic, who was frowning deeply.
"What's got yer mind in the gutter?" Tavish asked.
Medic looked towards him, his gaze not seeming to strike Tavish with the same unease it did before. He still hated the bastard. Their dynamic didn't change, and they definitely weren't friendly with each other, but there wasn't that animosity between them anymore.
Tavish was an emotional bastard to him, and Medic was an apathetic bastard right back to him. Though Tavish wasn't immature enough to not admit they both needed to beat each other into their right senses.
He rubbed his neck and eyed Medic's wounds that hadn't completely disappeared despite using the Medi-gun on himself, an ugly, prominent bruise still staining his bottom lip. He looked away when Medic lifted his shoulders slightly in response to his question.
"The monster and how it messes with our mind. If our minds are messed with, I'm curious as to how and why." Medic answered dimly.
"We can't even be sure it does mess with our mind," Tavish replied unsurely. "For all we know, we could just be antsy from… y'know, that. We don't even know why the monster exists and why the water was poisoned."
Medic looked distantly ahead at the never-ending hallway that stretched for an uncannily long time, the grey walls clashing with the neon blue stripes of arrows that pointed in nonsensical directions. There wasn't much noise in the halls, the only sounds being their footsteps and the metal of their guns clanging in their holsters.
From what Tavish could see, these hallways hadn't been stepped into for a long time, dust clinging to the ground and leaving their footprints in them. It was like a crude impersonation of snow.
"There's also the question of why the water was poisoned."
The corner of Tavish's mouth tilted downwards, and he adjusted his grenade launcher. "It ain't something we should worry about right now. Let's focus on finding Scout first."
They continued down the hall with little conversation, only speaking to each other if needed.
It didn't take much time for the two men to stop in front of a sign that had the words 'RESPAWN' engraved on it. Tavish looked down the winding halls where the lights hadn't been turned on yet, and Medic inspected the bloody handprints on the ground with a narrowed gaze, following the trail until the darkness swallowed it.
"Was this blood trail here when you first came here?" He inquired.
The Scot looked down at the blood trail and shrugged. The blood had dried, though the deeper pools of blood still looked fresh. He didn't have enough time to inspect it when he first stumbled into it, too distracted by the monster. But now that he had a chance to look at it, it was like someone was crawling before they were dragged away.
Tavish ripped his gaze away from it, trying to ignore the uneasiness in his stomach. "No clue, but me and Sniper saw it before we entered the hallway."
Medic hummed and looked back at where they came from, speaking low. "I suppose it'll take a while for Jeremy to find the control room."
"Yeah…"
Tavish gazed towards the sign on the wall, staring with pinched brows. The word 'RESPAWN' caught his eye, an arrow pointing to the north of them and directing them back to where he and Medic came from.
The monster could be here and they wouldn't know.
It was a miracle they hadn't even run into them when they were walking here.
"What monsters did you say were here?" Medic asked, tilting his head towards him as he leaned against the wall with a soft groan, rubbing his wrists.
Tavish stood in front of him, going to stand on the opposite end of the hallway. "Sniper, Spy, and Pyro. I think Sniper absorbed Pyro when they both respawned."
Medic didn't react to the information. "We don't need to worry about them, then. They aren't quick runners, and since you and Sniper aren't dead yet, I'm assuming Sniper doesn't have his gun. Though we'll need to be wary of Spy."
"Aye."
A tense silence hung in the air, and he peered back into the darkness, a creeping sense of terror tightly wounding around his chest. Fear wasn't something he was familiar with much.
Anguish, yes, but pure horror was something he never felt in over a decade. Not since his parents passed.
If that monster absorbed him, he didn't know if he would be aware of everything or if his mind would warp. If his mind would become something else. Each prospect was more terrifying than the last.
A monster that didn't kill them. That didn't change them like a zombie would. Because if he were to become a zombie, at least he would be brainless. This wasn't brainless. This was something else.
And there was a chance he'd become one.
Tavish felt his breathing quicken, and he hung his head, sweat beading on his neck.
He felt sick.
There was a brief ringing in his ears that swirled around his head. It was faint. So faint he wouldn't have heard it if it weren't silent.
The lights then came on with a hefty click, the sound reverberating down the hallway as each individual light in the hallways came back on.
The sound of buzzing filled the air, and the two watched as they turned on in shared uncomfortable silence.
They waited for something to happen, and when nothing did, Tavish straightened his lips.
"I didn't think he knew how to turn them on." Medic finally said after a minute, breaking the silence.
"Aye, same here." Tavish answered him.
With the lights on, he could see the blood trail more clearly, seeing footprints in said trail from multiple sources. He wondered when, in the time he, Heavy, and Sniper were walking down the hall, they stepped in the blood and how fresh it was when they were passing it.
"Are those your footprints?" Medic asked from behind him.
Tavish slowly nodded. "Yeah, think so."
Medic lacked any response, though he could see from the corner of his eye his grip tightening around the revolver's handle.
Tavish didn't want to say that it might belong to Scout, but any sort of logical conclusion he came to couldn't answer the question of where it came from.
Heavy's story never included a blood trail, and they hadn't found Scout yet.
"C'mon." Tavish muttered.
Medic's eyes followed the trail, never leaving it as they trudged down the now brightened hallway.
He adjusted his grenade launcher and moved it to his other arm that wasn't damaged. His arm had weakened since his fight with Medic, even worse off than it was when he fell on that fence. If he were to get into another scrap, he wasn't sure he would win it with how weakened it was now.
The buzzing was loud in the hallway, and the blood trail was too deep in its colour. It was almost like a morbid arrow, pointing them to where the original source of the blood came from. Too deep and rich in colour.
They continued down the hall when they came to a corner where the blood trail turned off.
Tavish and Medic's gaze never left the trail, and they only stared for a few seconds.
"Should we follow it?" Tavish asked.
Medic failed to reply as he shadowed the trail of the blood. Tavish walked behind him without saying much. There wasn't anything he could say to him.
It had to be Scout.
He knew it was Scout's.
They turned another corner, and another.
The blood never seemed to end.
Despite Tavish having gone through the walls in the darkness, the hallways were familiar to him.
Another corner, then another.
The blood only became more brilliant in its red colour.
The two of them stopped when they saw Jeremy leaning against the wall, tilting ever so slightly to the left of himself to peer around the corner. His complexion was pallid, his stance completely on guard from whatever he was looking at.
Tavish wanted to scream at seeing him. He thought he was a ghost, and he violently flinched back, holding his chest. Medic didn't have any reaction to seeing Jeremy.
"Fucking-" Tavish breathed a curse, frowning towards Jeremy.
"Jere-" Medic pressed his hand to Tavish's mouth, pressing his index finger to his lips in one smooth motion to quiet him.
The noise still caught the Boston's attention, and he whipped around to look at the two, eyes wide as he let out a muted scream, slapping his hand to his mouth to silence himself afterwards.
The three stared each other down for a second.
Then Jeremy lowered his hand, showing his gritted teeth as he shook his head while pushing his index finger to his lips. Quiet.
Tavish's heartbeat thumped in his ears.
Though their being quiet didn't matter anyway.
His heart plummeted when he heard a garbled voice down the hall.
"Hey."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jeremy muttered.
The Boston scrambled to their sides, no longer bothering to hide his volume. His feet slapped against the ground, though Tavish could still hear the patter of the other person's footsteps coming towards them.
It was quick.
Medic's hand flew to his gun in his holster and, in one smooth motion, pulled it out and aimed it. Tavish followed suit and steadied his grenade launcher, staring at the corner with his breathing increasing.
They stayed still, quiet, waiting.
A second.
Step.
Then three.
Step, step.
Then five.
Step, step, step.
The footsteps were too quick.
God help them.
There was a lone figure in front of them, leaning against the concrete wall. Drool dribbled down his chin, with half his body drooping, his form melting like candle wax. He was hunched over himself, almost as if he were ready to bowl over if the wall wasn't supporting his weight.
There wasn't anything recognizable about him, not on his right side.
Then he turned towards them.
Freckles.
"Hey, doc…"
The three men paused, dread washing over Tavish. His stomach churned with shock and consternation, and ever so slowly, the clone of Jeremy staggered towards them, limping with one foot to drag the melting one.
"I think I'm gonna die… If you don't help me…"
GOD HELP HIM.
End notes:
I never thought I would get to use this line: "where his bottle's dumping ground was—lovingly nicknamed "the scrumpy corner" by the lads." It was originally planned to be in chapter 1 for BLU Demo, but I decided that he wouldn't be a drunk. This is a big day.
Anyway besides that, I GOT FANART AGAIN! It was made by gravitytrips on Tumblr and I can't thank them enough! Honestly, thank you to EVERYONE who's made me fanart so far, it's all so amazing!