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No. 167
Every repost is a repost repost. By Engineer.


Sniper didn't know how long he'd been here.

He remembered the crack-bang of another Sniper's rifle, far away, and he remembered pain exploding into his skull. Logically, he should be dead. Pretty sure logic didn't work here.

"Here" was some sort of abandoned RED-BLU staging area. Sniper knew it was abandoned because no one else was here. Not even animals. He was the only living thing for miles, he suspected. And he knew it was an old arena because even a half-blind moron could recognize the signage.

It didn't make any sense at all. It was always dim here. There was never a sun, or a moon, or any clouds. Just grey, static skies that seemed to press in on the whole place. He could practically feel it pressing on his lungs when he breathed. He hated that the most, more than all the other fucked up stuff.

And there was plenty of fucked up stuff. He still didn't know the extent of it. He was pretty sure he didn't want to know. Some of the buildings here were just flat colors- usually white, but there were some in black- that ignored how light worked. It made his head hurt to look at them too long, and they weren't safe to walk on, anyway. The flat color hid holes and tripping hazards. The ground had puddles of blood that were too big to have come from a single creature. They didn't dry up, and there wasn't the usual cloud of flies over them. Just...spattered. All over the bases, no rhyme or reason. Sniper was pretty good at putting together what'd killed a man (or animal), and there was- nothing made any sense. The world had a definite edge; he couldn't just leave the arena. There were walls and impossible mountain ridges and in one place, there was a train wreck that was still smoldering and burning. It'd been burning ever since he got here.

Sometimes fog would roll in, thick and wet and grey, reeking of gasoline and copper. Sniper would climb to the top of the rickety wooden sniping platform on the RED side, then. It was less cold than the BLU one, even if it swayed a little much for his liking. He didn't want to know what would happen if he stayed down there when the fog came though.

When it finally blew out, he'd crawl back down, and there'd be... differences. The flat colored areas would change. The blood puddles would be moved. The grass- brown and thinly spread, like stubble on the bare dirt- would be simply gone from places and freshly grown in others. It frightened him.

This whole place frightened him.

The worst part was how hungry he was. He didn't sleep anymore. He never seemed to get to sleep, no matter how much he ran around, no matter how tired he got. He wished he did. Lying there in that rickety perch, swaying, smelling the static and the gas and the blood and being so tired, impossibly tired. The blood looked disturbingly palatable these days. That scared him most of all. Drinking it would make him a part of the place. Meant he couldn't leave. Or at least it's what it- it made sense, okay?

He was so hungry.

Once there was laughing. Someone- Someone like Scout. It was in the middle of a fog cloud, when Sniper was hiding in his perch feeling nauseous and weak and ravenous. Scout- or something like a Scout- lauging and laughing and he didn't stop; it was just /noise/. Mean-spirited, ugly laughter. It made Sniper shiver. It went on for seemingly for ever, with only the irregularly-occasional gasp for breath as a break in the laughing.

Sniper tried not to listen. He tried not to think about what Scout might look like, down there in the fog, laughing uncontrollably. That's when the other sounds kicked in. Meaty, sick thumps- something solid beating something soft, covered in cloth. The laughing didn't stop. Sniper knew the sound of beatings, and winced from some half-clear memory of unfair fights when he was younger.

The beating went on through the hours. Or maybe days. Minutes? Sniper's watch had stopped working long ago, even before he came to this fucking terrible place. He didn't realize it, but he was shaking. Shaking and curling up tighter into himself, tears running unbidden down his face. It didn't seem to end. It never would, would it.

The fog was getting to him. The things hiding in it- and there were /things/ now, more than the laughing Scout and that bat- breaking him down, killing him without touching him. There were footsteps and women's screams of disapproval, men begging to die. Sometimes cigarette smoke would penetrate the overpowering miasma of the fog, making Sniper start sharply and openly sob for breath while reaching for his machete-almost-kurkri. His heart was racing, his whole body was trying to prepare itself for attack- he could practically feel the adrenaline- but he was so weak, all it did was make it worse, made the sounds leap into sharp relief and his heart thud sickly in his chest. He didn't know if feeling and hearing his heartbeat so loud in his ears made it worse or better.

It ended with the familiar sound of a bolt action rifle ringing out. It was loud, right next to his ear. He jumped, cursed... and then broke down into soft sobs.


"Do you think he's ever gonna wake up?" Scout's voice was soft. He was always like this in the infirmary, Medic had noted. Quiet. Calm. Downright mature. He was sitting next to the medical bed, holding Sniper's hand in both of his.

"I- I don't know, Scout. He is improving. I can tell you that much. The wounds are healing. But I don't know." He patted Scout's back as he spoke. Poor boy. He'd checked Scout's records; he'd lost family to this sort of stuff. It made Medic wonder why he was even out here in the first place, fighting in the dust with the rest of them. Too much like his home, he figured.

Scout frowned a little, but didn't move from his spot. His voice was even quieter then before, almost a whisper, "I... I hope it's soon. I miss him."

From the medical bed, Sniper's eyes fluttered, but did not open.
Marked for deletion (old)
>> No. 195
<i>Ouch</i>. That was painful and fantastic.
>> No. 1463
This was awesome. Really creepy and frightening from Snipers perspective and sad for Medic and Scout.
>> No. 1470
Delightful. Sniper's nightmare world reminds me of the Silent Hill universe in a number of ways whilst still being very distinct from it - very interesting! I hope this continues, rather than being simply a one-shot.
>> No. 1471
I would love to see this illustrated.

This is just begging to be visualized so badly.
>> No. 1487
I find the things an injured or ill mind can conjure to be quite fascinating, so this story is a real treat for me. Had be on edge, very sad, and very interesting.
>> No. 1501

I do have a picture :Vc

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