Return Entire Thread

My Left Eye Sees Ghosts (9)

1 .

Every repost is a repost repost. By Wolf in the Walls.


A/N: Something I started about a BLU Spy infiltrating the RED team. Premise is easy - BLUs are losing, so the RED war machine has started on the offensive, marching on the BLU HQ.

A little switch in the attack and defend.

CRIT WELCOME.... I need the help


My Left Eye Sees Ghosts

Chapter 1

“Uplink to BLU base has been lost.”

Seven words that no one at HQ wanted to hear. The announcement rang loud through the halls and bodies in motion froze. Eyes stared up at the loudspeakers. Folders dropped to the ground. In some cases, clocks stopped.

“Repeat, uplink to BLU base 1108 has been lost.”

Another number. The REDs were starting their march to the sea, powered by their madness, their hunger, their lust. And ourselves, in all our power, all our strength and wisdom, we can do nothing to stop the monster. No death toll, no need to know. We all knew they were dead. All dead. A small bell rang, and eyes went to the loudspeakers again. I didn’t bother. It was another saddened speech. Nothing we could do to save them, nothing to stop them.

I crawled into my cot.

What did I have left? A suit? Company uniform, not my own. A knife? A revolver? Both gifts. And worse am I – the pet wolf in sheep clothes. I have a job. I do it. I sleep with one eye open, even at HQ. Am I more a monster than them? I may be. But that I can live with. I do live with it.

Before I can fall asleep, I am called to the administrator’s office.

He knows I hate him, and I know he hates me back, but for the moment, I’m his bitch.

He is sitting back in his chair, smoking a brand of cigarette I can’t stand. He always looks smug, always looks so confident. We lose another base and there isn’t a tear in his eye. He doesn’t care, never did. This is a game of chess to him, and I’m his favorite knight. He motions for me to sit, and I remain standing. He offers me a cigarette, and I light my own. Just to spite him, to make him move.

“I wouldn’t call you here if—“

“Cut the bullshit.”

I cut him off. I don’t want my task dressed in fancy words. He knows this.

“I’m sending you into the RED army.”

I wish I could say that it surprised me. But it didn’t. I had a feeling it would come to this. With the loss of another base, this is what happens. They tell me a lot of things. They say a lot of things to me. Give me a lot of titles. The Medics, especially the German ones, call me “Blue Wulf im Schafspelz Kleidung” – The Blue Wolf in Sheep’s Clothes. Engineers are grateful I’m not trying to sabotage them, Snipers make sure their backs are covered. I don’t get along with any of them.

“You leave in the morning.”

I shake my head.

“No, I’ll go now.”

I left without another word.

I knew the RED forces were intimidating, imposing, monstrous. I based every movement around it. From applying, to speaking to their ‘recruiting’ officer, to actually being assigned to the front lines, each move had to be done with extreme care and caution. But I knew how they worked. This was not something you walked in to. The moment I walked in to their first and foremost front base – RED 0083 – I knew what I had to do. A show of weakness can get you killed here. Torn apart.

And I know how to make a dramatic entrance.

I pushed the doors open, my bag over my shoulder. They were waiting, a full set now wondering why Central HQ was sending them another Spy. Clearly, their own wasn’t doing his job right. All eyes stared at me, and I narrowed my gaze at them. In those precious moments when no one spoke, I read them.

Medic – dressed all in black and red. No care for the system, just saw through bones and be on his way. The flecks of blood still on his glasses meant he enjoys what he does. Perhaps he competes with the Soldier for control.

Heavy – built like a tank, and no stupid grin. Probably a war machine. Has one job and does it well. Scars on his arms mean he’s been a Spy target and survived.

Demoman – no bottle at his side. Not a drop of booze on him. Fingers stained with chemicals, makes his own ammunition. Eyepatch looks new, probably just lost it recently.

Engineer – relaxed. I believe that all Engineers have an insane desire to save someone. This one is no exception. But I don’t doubt his deadliness, it’s always the ones you least expect.

Sniper – batshit insane. Smartass grin a mile wide. Probably losing a couple screws. Another Spy target, with less battle scars. Doesn’t carry his rifle with him like a BLU, so he’s a confident motherfucker. Doesn’t think anyone is going to smother him in his sleep.

Pyro – burned all to shit, but walking around like he’s proud of it. Not wearing his suit, or even his mask. Those burns of his are badges. Probably masochistic. He doesn’t think that there are threats.

Scout – jittery. He’s on edge, nervous about everyone around him. Bet he’s their fucking dumpster whether he likes it or not. Black eye too, not worn as a badge of honor. He wants a savior, but that’s not me.

Spy – watches me with hate in his eyes. I’m here to steal his job, this will lead him to make mistakes, to be sloppy and get himself killed. I expect several assassination attempts from him.

Soldier – leader, strict and by the books. There’s dents on his helmet. The way he stands means he takes no bullshit, runs this little group with that iron fist or a shovel to the face.

Nothing I can’t handle.

The Soldier takes my paperwork, and expects me to salute. I don’t, and light a cigarette instead. Get off on the right foot, of course. He throws a punch, I snap his arm at the elbow and walk away. The Medic steps up to tend to the wound, though I see him wince in disgust.


The Medic speaks, the Scout snaps to attention.

“…show him to zhe room.”

The pathetic twig salutes quickly and runs in front of me, motioning that I follow. He constantly looks back over his shoulder, looking me over like I’m going to attack him. He stops at the end of a hall, and opens a door. The room is dusty and empty, a cot and a dresser all that are there under the cobwebs and dust. It is more than I was expecting, to be honest. I tell the runt to get me a rag so I may clean, and he disappears without another word.

Anything to get a moment’s privacy.

A cloud of dust rises from the bed when I drop my bag on it. The place is filthy, but no one ever expects a tenth member of the team. Especially when they have a perfectly functional Spy. Well, not for long. I don’t expect him to last much longer.

There is no dinner. Everyone eats what they can when they can, and it’s first come, first serve, unless it has the Soldier’s name. He is the alpha male, and no one messes with him. But in contrast, he will not mess with me or he risks another broken limb. I spend the night cleaning the room, getting settled in. It took a bit to crack open the window, let in some air – smell that scent of blood and rot.

I lock the door before I crawl into bed. I doubt it will do much, but it is better than nothing.

One eye open.

Always sleep with one eye open.
Marked for deletion (old)

2 .

A/N: I can't write German accents.


I should have been aware that there would not be a bell to wake us in the morning. But nevertheless, I am up at dawn. The Spy is waiting outside my door when I open it, and he does not look particularly pleased. Being the gentleman, I invite him in to chat. He glares at me, but steps in.

“Pourquoi êtes-vous ici?”

For those who don’t speak French, he asked why I was here.

“I was sent here to make sure you were getting your job done.”

Anger rose in his face. I try very hard to smirk in situations like this, but sometimes it is just so easy to see all those flaws. This Spy was insecure. He storms out with a growl.

I leave my room to look over this base. I need to know every inch of it, though I’m sure we will not be here for too long. The war machine stops for no one. The Soldier has his arm in a sling, and yet he’s still patrolling the front doors. He probably wants to introduce me to his shovel, but I can deal with him later. The batshit Sniper is on his deck, talking dirty as he whacks off on his rifle. The very thought disgusts me, and I wish I could bleach my eyes and ears and brain so I don’t even have to think about it ever again.


The Medic catches me by the garage. Crazy as he looks, he does not appear to be out for my blood.

“Vould you like to get your chekup done noe?”

A physical. Something I expected, but while I would rather not put myself in a vulnerable position. But best get it done now instead of later. I consent, and follow the crazed German to his medbay. It is a somewhat relaxing sight to see the place obsessively clean, everything gleaming and white. The man rambles on about his work in Auschwitz, medical experimentation. The way he speaks, he is so amused, so happy, so eager to continue his work on whichever prisoners of war we come across. I knew the REDs employed monsters…

He checks over every inch of my body with the obsession one takes when counting grains of sand. His little chuckles indicate he is pleased with what he sees.

He picks up some monstrous equipment. A long, bloody blade, with a syringe on it. The way he holds it makes me think it’s a bone saw, but it is far more… grotesque. Fortunately, I am already half-dressed by the time he has it.

“Led me tesd your reflecksess.”

His accent is heavy as he lunges, the monstrous weapon raised. I step aside, and he goes right past me, tripping over his own feet. I am faster. I pin him to the wall, and swiftly wrench the saw from his grip. It is heavy, heavier than I expected. The German laughs madly. Says I excite him. Briefly, I feel ill.

I let the Medic drop to the floor, and I finish getting dressed. I leave the saw on the exam table, and leave without a word.

The Engineer is next on my list, the door to his workshop is open. He seems to be tinkering, hammering away at something. I knock at the doorframe, causing him to look up. He gives me a friendly smile, and invites me in. Briefly, I think he is the sane one. The Scout is in here as well, sitting off in the corner, afraid of the world. The Texan shows me around his workshop, everything either in the process of being fixed or having been fixed and reassembled numerous times. He is a genius, I can see it in his expression, gears working in his head.

I am attracted to intelligence, though I’m not supposed to get friendly.

He gives me a smirk, and moves over to a wall, pulling a section of it out, revealing a tunnel.

“Scout tunnels. Back when we had more than one.”

When he speaks, the runt cringes. I see him try to crawl away, but there is something on his ankle, keeping him rooted to the spot.

“You might be able to fit in them. They go all over the base, an exit in every room, and a couple leading outside.”

I nod. I had no idea these bases had such tunnels. I’m sure this will make things easy for me, and for what I do. The runt pulls at his single restraint, but the Engineer ignores him. He points to a door in the back of his workshop. His own quarters. It was an invitation, one I said I’d be sure to cash in on when I got settled.

I leave the workshop in somewhat better spirits. The Engineer has a way with words, an easy, laid back way of speaking. He perhaps is my favorite person here.

I’ll kill him last.

The Soldier calls us together near sundown. We gather, though there is an uneasy feeling in my stomach. They follow the Soldier with a near-unquestionable loyalty. But why him? Leads by intimidation, maybe? They respond to force, that much is clear.

He says he got orders from HQ.

We are marching on the next nearest base. Here I am, to turn on my own team. Team only in name, I have no real loyal ties to either side. But the others still rage and rally at the thought of bloodshed.

The Scout sneaks from the room, though I am the only one who notices.

I follow while the others cheer the thought of killing.

The runt moves into the kitchen, and opens the icebox. I watch him, and when he notices me watching, he slams the door and cowers, like I’m going to hit him. When I don’t, he sits at the table, his entire body trembling. He looks up at me once, then looks at the table. He repeats this three or four times, never saying a word.

A hand pats my shoulder – the Sniper walks past me. I watch the Scout nearly dive out of his chair and bolt for the door, but the gunman grabs him by the arm and smacks him across the face before pinning him to the table. And then the man looks at me, and smirks.

“Ye wanna?”

Never have I felt so ill. I refuse and return to my room. The walls are thin enough that I can hear the screaming, both from the runt and the men eager for blood.

I knew REDs were monsters, before I enlisted in the BLU.

Perhaps I am as monstrous and ugly as them.

3 .

A/N: I'm overjoyed to see that people want to read more.


We ship out before dawn, all of us in one camper-van, with the Sniper driving, and the Soldier next to him. I stay in back, perfect place to watch them. Watch their neurosis, their psychotic states, their anxiety and madness. They are bred for war. Born and bred and broken. I light a cigarette and watch them. The Heavy – the monster of a man he is – is polishing that gun, making sure every bit of it is in proper working condition. I would not have pegged him for such an… enthusiast. But he knows weapons. Those massive, sausage fingers are delicate with that gun and that gun only. Everything else is just not worth it.

The Medic is giving each of them their little puff of his ether, buffing them for the charge. I do not believe he is ever without a psychotic grin. Be it the fumes from his medigun, or a sexual attraction to the blood and bones, he is always grinning. Sparks crackle from the nozzle, he has a charge, and it is clear he’ll use it in the initial push. The Demoman sits opposite of him, perfectly still for a drunk. The explosives and the liquor are the only things concerning him. One wrong jolt and this entire van could go up.

Not that it would bother me.

Pyro is next to the Engineer, pointing at things on the PDA, the two muttering to themselves. Once a gun goes up, I’m sure it will be the fire bug who will sit and do nothing but keep it up. That is his job. He and the Engineer seem to be professionals in the workplace, but there is no hint of anything else between the two. Crazed pyromaniacs must not be his forte. He strikes me as the type who enjoys an intelligent conversation.

Spy’s eyes have not left me, and his hand has not stopped tracing lazy circles on the Scout’s neck. Probably a nervous tick. I am somewhat disgusted at how the team treats the runt, but the only real salvation I can give him would be a bullet to the brain. He stopped fighting back, and I won’t bother fighting for him. That is not why I am here. From what I have seen, however, he is not the weakest link of them.

I look at Spy with a sly smirk, causing him to twitch and glare at me.

I open my disguise kit as the van pulls off-road. I can see the base – number 1112 – not far. The lights are out. They know we’re coming, but I won’t warn them.

The van parks, and the doors open.

I click my watch, and slip out unnoticed while the others charge, making as much noise as they can.

When I am inside, I hunt for the BLU Engineer. He is supposed to be my contact, the one who will get this information to HQ. I drop my cloak when I am in far enough, and the BLU Pyro does not give me a second look, pointing down the hall and mumbling something before heading in the direction I came. The gunfire is behind me, getting quieter and quieter as I head for the darkest corners of this building.

The Engineer is waiting for me, just like I had hoped.

I type furiously into his PDA, he recharges my watch. I had the device back, he clips the watch back to my wrist and tells me to take care as he presses a button – sending the information off. He points me in the direction of one of the tunnels, and I thank him. I crawl in and he seals my exit.

However, the RED Scout is in that tunnel.

The look on his face says that he saw everything. There is terror in his eyes. He knows, and it shows. He raises his pistol, though his hand is shaking. I try very hard not to roll my eyes and I disarm him. I grab his wrist before he can crawl away. I expect him to scream, but he is dead silent.

He suddenly clings to me, furiously whispering for me to take him with, to take him away from the REDs. I guess there is only so much one can take before they really want to go.

So I offer him a deal.

I tell him that he can work for me, answer to me and no one else, be a Spy’s spy, and I would consider sending him off to the BLUs. This is a lie, of course, but why not use such… misguided eagerness to my advantage?

He agrees without a second’s hesitation, and I send him on his merry way.

The guns are getting closer as I get farther from the Engineer. I emerge behind the REDs, amidst a pile of bodies. I initially assume that they were gunned down by the invading force, but a second look catches my interest. The injuries do not look like something normal. Not a bullet, not a knife, no sorts of physical wound at all. I check over the corpse of a BLU Soldier. Pinpoint pupils, blue lips, slight discoloration of the gums. It reeks of poison but I see nothing to indicate it. The other corpses share the same odd look. Mass suicide, perhaps? Did they know we were coming, and did not fight?

The mini-gun has stopped roaring.

I stand and adjust my tie, watching the others return with triumphant grins. Soldier tells us to go pick out our new quarters. Moving in to the castle of the fallen king, how classy. He goes to call HQ, have our stuff moved here.

I travel the halls until I find the ‘right’ room. I am not a spiritual man, but sometimes, something feels right. I open the door to see what used to be the Engineer’s room. Bed neatly made, photos of family, of the troop, grainy and out of focus. How fitting that I take his room. Perhaps he knew it would be me.

It does not take me long to settle in to the dead man’s room, and I am reading his technical journals when there is a knock on the door. The Spy is there, wanting to yell at me for one thing or another, though I ignore him. When he runs out of breath, he leaves, and I have peace for another hour or so.

The RED Engineer is my next visitor, and I even take the time to look up from my reading material to humor him. I have a feeling it is best to be on his good side. He looks around my room and smirks a bit, a hand on his hip.

I tune out most of what he says, as it is mostly praise for my ‘first’ raid. He speaks like he has something else up his sleeve, and I hear footsteps by the door. There is a sickness to his grin, and he starts the sentence with “In accordance to RED raiding traditions…”

I dread what he will say.

He opens the door, and the rest of the team is there, the poor runt tied with extension cords and gagged with electrical tape. The boy is thrown to the floor, and the Engineer makes an exit.

“…you get to fuck the runt.”

The door closes after that, and I can only assume they are waiting around to listen to his screams. I lock the door, and approach the Scout, putting my finger to my lips. The thought of where this mutt has been and who has had him makes me sick. I throw a faked slap, and he seems to catch on. Slap. Muffled ‘scream’. Rinse and repeat several times, add in a few ad-libbed lines of perversion and he plays along as I untie him. This carries on for almost an hour before I remove the tape, and open my disguise kit. I powder some dark bruises on him, and he makes himself look more like the victim. There is a definite look of gratitude in his eyes, and that hardens to fear when I unlock the door, and leave as if nothing happened. The team outside the door pat me on the back, and offer me a drink.

I politely refuse the liquor, and excuse myself to the showers.

One could say I am rethinking my strategy. Now that I understand how this team works. They have boiled down to basic animal monstrosity. Eat. Sleep. Fight. Fuck. No care for life, no care for each other. And it is that which makes them such a terrible force. They are no longer men, they are beasts.

Beasts must be dealt with accordingly.

As I think this, warm water is covering me. It is the first real shower I’ve had since I came here, and while I dare not relax too much, the left eye stays open. One eye open. The left eye has been my strongest one.

The muscles relax, the stress and strain goes down the drain. Perhaps I will sleep tonight. Sleep and not dream of madness.

As I think this, I realize this will not happen. There are not many more bases between here and BLU HQ, and that is not a lot of time to get them the proper information. The two bases – BLU 1201 and BLU 1213 – are among the best of them, but they all assume they will be fighting men…

When I get out of the shower, I look for Scout. I tell him to meet me in my room after dark. He shows up on time, and I give him a letter. I open my window, and send him on his merry way. He will run the letter to B1213, and they will be ready. I do not worry about the men at B1213 gunning him down. They know me, they know I will send word.

And if they cannot stop this war machine, I am not sure I can do it alone.

4 .

A/N: 5th chapter will be following soon. I'm just on a roll.


It is not a day and everyone is settled in to the corpse of the BLU base. I have remained in my room for the most part, reading the Engineer’s journals. The man was brilliant, a genius not only in the mechanical field. A beautiful mind, though it is a bit of a shame that I am meeting it when he is dead. He had brilliant theories about the RED machine, though to prove any of these, I will have to return to HQ and investigate myself. For as much as I do know, there is so much that none of us know. Or no one says.

In one of the journals, the Engineer mentions several… unusual theories. The occult is mentioned often, but this, while it makes sense, makes my blood turn cold. These words I share…

…As I write this, I know it sounds crazy, but things have been happening since the last push. Things I can’t explain, even with all my science. There is something behind the REDs’ big march to the sea. But what if it isn’t the sea they are trying to reach? What will they do if they march on BLU HQ? Is there something in, or beneath, HQ that they are seeking? We have all seen it. The REDs are taking prisoners, but they are selective. It leads me to believe they are not taking prisoners for the sake of a trophy, I believe they are taking test subjects. But for what I cannot even begin to imagine.

They took the Medic on their last raid.

It was seven months ago. They stormed the base at midnight. In the confusion, they took Medic, and none of us could stop them, or help him. In. Out. Gone. But a week ago, Sniper found our Medic wandering incoherently outside the base. The man was rattled, disheveled. He looked terrified. His clothes were a mess, his eyes wide, his hands shaking. He recoiled from Sniper (an odd occurrence, as he was rarely too far from the gunman’s side), and when the man did finally lay a hand on him, he bit Sniper down to the bone. It took both myself and Heavy to pry him off, and he thrashed, he howled, he raged. Soldier had to help us bind him to one of the exam tables.

He rambles on and on when he speaks, nothing but words that make no sense. I’ll write what I can here…

The rest of the words are blurry.

I do not understand it. What could have driven a man so mad? I finally hear the knocking at the door, and grant the Medic entrance. He is not grinning when he steps in, and he closes the door.

I ask him what is wrong.

“Zere… zere ist zumsing in ze medbay.”

There is a quiver to his voice. The crazed madman is seconds away from pissing himself in terror. But at his request, I follow him into his chamber of horrors. I feel a chill when I step in, and find that Spy and Sniper are also there. They have cleared away anything on the far wall, and Spy is tapping at it, searching for a hollow point. He taps one spot, and the next doesn’t sound the same. I summon the Engineer, and his tools, and the three of us wail on the wall for a good ten minutes before we are able to make a hole the right size for one of us to crawl into.

I was volunteered.

The Engineer hands me a flashlight, and a radio. I thank him, and he tips his hardhat.

The tunnel of pipes and circuitry lead me to a large room. There is a large projector screen on the wall, first showing the globe, and then faces. Names and faces, living or dead. I do not recognize many of them. But these are BLUs, and REDs. The map appears again, focused on B1213, our position, and HQ. I do not understand it.

The chill creeps into my muscles, into my bones. I cannot find a way to run, or to even speak into my radio. Something is keeping me here, something is making me watch. The projector runs through all sorts of images. Things I cannot understand, and cannot process. I cannot describe them.

Next thing I know, I am in the medbay, on an examination table. Medic looks a little relieved to see me breathing.

I ask what happened, and Spy says the radio flooded with white noise and static, and then he and Sniper went in to get me. I am told I was found lying on the floor bleeding from the eyes.

When I do manage to sit up, there is a pain in my left eye. Medic checks it, and can find nothing wrong. I look among the few of us in the room, and back at the hole. I describe what I saw, or I attempt to. They seem to slowly be understanding what I understand. Something is not right here.

Spy helps me to my room. The pain in my eye is worse now. I lay on my bed, and he lights a cigarette. He asks me what I want him to do.

I tell him to infiltrate RED HQ, and I give him a few names I can remember for him to look up.

He tells me that he has a feeling I am the only one who can get to the bottom of this.

I force a smirk to humor him, and say I am only one man.

He returns the smirk and leaves the room.

There is a chill in the air, a coldness in the base. There is a blood in the wind, and it rakes at the body and the pain in my left eye is so great…

5 .

A/N: And 5


I meet with Medic in the morning. He does not look like he has slept the entire night. He tells me he will not go into the medbay anymore. He tells me he had Sniper and Heavy move all his things into the common room. I nod in understanding. I ask him what made him so terrified.

He tells me he saw a man in the mirrors, someone behind him in his reflections.

When I ask him to describe the apparition, he shakes his head and refuses, and almost begs me not to tell Soldier. Fortunately for him, I don’t think Soldier would believe any of this. Anything that can’t be solved with a rocket launcher is beyond his level of caring or understanding. The secret is safe with me. I tell him to try to forget it, to relax and focus on the inevitable next march. For a moment, that psychotic, monster grin returns.

I leave him to his madness, returning to my room. The BLU Engineer’s journals must have something, something on the haunting. Or something on what drove their own Medic insane.

Scout is waiting at my door when I reach my room.

He is jittery, but no more than normal. I invite him in and close the door. He lets me know he delivered the message to B1213, and hands me a somewhat crumpled envelope. Says it’s from the Sniper there. I open it, and recognized the scratchy, almost illegible handwriting.

I do not believe I was ready for what I read.

I go into the medbay when the sun sets. The team had moved a shelf in front of the hole we made, perhaps to hide it from the maniac Soldier. There was a harsh chill in the room, and I can feel as if there is a presence, as if something else is in the room with me. The letter’s words had shaken me, and part of me does not want to believe it. The RED march… it can’t be.

My left eye is starting to hurt again.

I lean against the wall. Why do I find it easy to think in a place where even the insane do not wish to venture? I idly rummage through the drawers, trying to find something to ease the pain in my head. I look up at a mirror on the wall.

There is a man in the reflection, over my shoulder.

When I turn, he is still there. And at the same time, he is not there. He stands tall, in a dark red – or maybe it is black – suit, his eyes green and bright, and at the same time he looks so worn and weary.

I do hear my sanity screaming at me to run, but I cannot. I ask this figure so many questions, and I get silence in return. I look at how he stands, at his clothes, and there is a terror creeping into my mind.

He is dressed as a Spy, a Spy in a dark suit, sans balaclava.

My jaw drops, and he makes a motion like he just lit a cigarette. He looks at me, like he knows I can see him. Does he speak? Or can I not hear a word of it?

And then, like a child’s rhyme, I hear it.

One bright day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys went out to fight
Back to back they faced each other
Drew their swords and shot each other
A deaf policeman heard the noise
And came and killed the two dead boys
If you don’t believe this lie is true
Ask the blind man – he saw it too

Then he is gone.

I find myself hurrying from the medbay. Something about those words terrify me, down to my core, my bones. And at the same time, I find them making sense. The Medic is in his little playground, patching up a few scratches and scrapes on the Engineer. When the German is done, I share what has happened with him. He seems to tremble, and turns to leave. I stop him, and tell him to gather everyone except the Soldier.

There is much I need to share with them.

They all gather except for Scout. I am told that the Soldier has him, but I start without him. Their eyes fix on me, waiting.

“…The RED army is marching to merge, not conquer, with the BLU army.”

6 .

A/N: Time for a short chapter, but a big upset.


Shock ripples through the room. They want to know why, want to know so much. But how can I describe things to them? I try to start slow, but it comes down to the letter from the B1213 Sniper. I read it for them.

“I have heard whispers about such a merger for a long time, but we finally confirmed it two days ago when Jerry started rummaging through one of the intelligence briefcases. It described that when the REDs merge with the BLUs, they will form a new alliance, a new army. Then, they will turn on the world, and march across the oceans until it all lays under one banner.

I know you can’t do this alone, so we, the BLU Troop of 1213, are defecting to form our own force. Gather as many as you can, and join us.”

As I finish reading, something flat and metallic collides with my head. Soldier was right behind me, and no one said a thing. It is here where I also realize that I had just given away the ever-present fact that I am a BLU, and not really a RED. The blow sends the world spinning, and me crashing to the ground. He is screaming but I can barely understand him. He pulls me up by the back of my suit and I kiss the wall. There is a bloody spot on the wall.

It reminds me of a bird.

Soldier repeats the blows of my forehead meeting the wall four or five times before he stops. He screams orders to the others, and I can hear them scrambling. The world is still hazy and spinning. The American flings me against the table, and another set of hands guides me to a chair. My arms are tied behind the back of the chair, and my ankles to the legs. There are bodies scrambling, presumably I have been played as the fool, been humored, the entire time. Some Spy I am. There is more screaming, directed at me, and the Soldier punches my chest. I feel some ribs fracture. I cannot focus on what he is saying.

All I can think is ‘Are they going to kill me?’

A hand grabs my head, and there is a thumb pressed against my left eyelid. My head is wrenched up, and I am trying to focus on the Soldier, but things still seem to spin. The thumb digs in deeper when I do not answer his questions.

There are things I can tolerate, and things I cannot. The thought of losing my eye terrifies me.

He orders the others out of the room, and they flee. I am left alone with the screaming, raving madman. The thumb leaves my eye, and the hand hits my face. There is blood welling in my mouth, a thick, coppery taste. Soldier asks me questions, and yet despite my idiocy earlier at revealing a former allegiance, I do not answer him. This angers him, and he hits me again, and it hurts. I do what I can to hold him off.

I do not know how long this goes on before he leaves.

It is hard to breathe. I think that the rib fragments are poking into my lungs. I try not to curse my idiocy too much. I manage to open one eye – my left eye – and see that there is blood on my suit. The first thing I think of is that it will be a pain to clean. These thoughts are soon replaced with the realization that I have gone from infiltrator to prisoner. I do not know how I will actually get out of this.

“One bright day in the middle of the night…”

That apparition is speaking again. Though by this point, I do not know if it is really there, or if the pain and madness has gotten to me. I listen, there is nothing else for me to do. The same rhyme, same rhythm over and over.

And soon, I am mimicking his words.

“…two dead boys went out to fight.”

I repeat the lines for as long as I am conscious.

7 .

A/N: Time for some more mindfuckery


I do not know how much time passes from the moment the world goes black to the very second my senses begin to recover. Few things are certain. I am no longer bound to the chair, but I am sure that I am not safe either. It is hard to move, though the very act hurts. My chest aches when I inhale, and my head is throbbing. I feel a warm, wet cloth over my eyes. There are murmured voices, ones I recognize. Medic. Sniper. Heavy…

The Medic says So he was a BLU the whole time

There is a growing pain in my chest.

The Sniper asks Will he wake up

There is a pain in my arms.

The Heavy laughs RED merging with BLU – how crazy

The pain slithers up my body to my eyes.

They mock me, they laugh and mock me. Those idiots. Those fools following a foolish American who wants to control everything he touches. Not me. Not I. A groan slowly manages to escape my lips. There is silence, but I hear, I can hear those words. I can hear that Spy talking to me.

The Medic says He’s waking up

(…Ladies and gentlemen…)

The Sniper says I’ll go get the Soldier

(…Hobos and gents…)

The Heavy says Hurry

(…cross-eyed mosquitos…)

The cloth is removed from my face. The air is cold, and the light is bright.

(…and bull-legged ants…)

I manage to open my eyes. The bright light of the medbay is staring down at me. That chill has not left the room. Medic and Heavy are staring down at me. It is now I realize that I am strapped to the table. My jacket is gone, my tie lost. Mercifully, they have not removed my balaclava. Perhaps that will be the last thing they do before I am shot. I can hear the heavy boots of the Soldier’s approach.

(…pull up a chair and sit on the floor…)

The doors open, I can hear them, but I do not care. Let it come. Let him come and scream and rave and I will say nothing. Nothing. Nothing but those lines. Let them hear! Let them go mad at the lies and truths those lines give me. LET THEM HEAR IT ALL

(…and I’ll tell you a story never heard before…)

There is nothing he can do, no words he can say to me! I have seen it! I know what lies in the darkness. I have seen him! Soldier does not fuck around. He starts with everything I expected. Why I am here, what my name is, my rank, the usual. I try not to speak while he is interrogating me. When he is finished speaking, I finally respond.

“…One bright day in the middle of the night…two dead boys went out to fight…”

I can see that Spy. He is next to the table, right behind Soldier. He speaks with me. I can hear him. Soldier raises his fist, but Heavy keeps him from punching me.

“Back to back they face each other… drew their swords and shot each other…”

The second time the fist actually connects. My head bounces off the table, and I believe my nose is broken. Soldier starts screaming at me. Empty threats. He won’t kill me. I am too important of a prisoner to kill.


After Soldier is too frustrated to continue, he storms out to make a few calls. I continue to speak those lines, those words, over and over until a needle pricks my arm. Then the world is dark again.

When things return, I am still on the table. The room is empty. I am still tied down, and things still hurt. The apparition is still there. He is smoking next to the table, I can smell it. He offers me the cigarette, though it is translucent. I refuse politely, and he seems to sit on the edge of the table.

Why is it that a ghost gives me more comfort than anyone else in this world?

He disappears the second the door opens. The Scout enters, looking like he has earned his share of the bruises. But there is something wrong. I can see it in his eyes. Something not right. He seems to stalk towards me, the way he moves is less…graceful. There is a maddening twitch at his lips – they twist into a grin.

Oh god. He’s gone mad.

He mutters, giggling, saying that it was the end. That he had reached the end of the road, there was nowhere else for him to go. I can see the madness in his eyes. His insane cackle echoes the room, possibly out into the hall. He looks at me, his pistol raised, pointed at my head. He tells me that I lied, that I never was going to save him. His finger is on the trigger.

Suddenly, blood spills out of his mouth, and he crumples to the floor.

The apparition is standing there again, smoking. He does not speak, but I hear his words. He tells me that I am right. The two are merging. He tells me that B1213 has already been wiped out… by their own forces. He tells me that there are very few who are right.

And he tells me that we will meet soon.

8 .


btw, I did some art for this... should I make a thread in /fanart/?


I see the world burning.

Before my eyes, I can see the world on fire. I can hear people screaming and crying as they are turned simply to ashes. I feel nothing. No pain. No sadness. Not even guilt. But I wonder if I cause it. Am I to blame for the fires, or am I to blame for not stopping them? That Spy is in my dreams. He is standing among the flames, lighting a cigarette on the flames coming from some poor woman’s hands. He looks at me.

He says This is what will happen.

He takes a drag on the cigarette. I can hear the Soldier screaming as his eyes melt.

He says Two dead boys will go out to fight, unless you can kill them before they do.

I smell the smoke from his cigarette. I recognize it as some old French brand I haven’t been able to find in years.

He says Do not worry. We will see each other very soon.

I try to open my eyes, but there is pain in the eyelids. I try to life my hands, but they are still strapped to the table. There is a tugging at the skin when it twitches and warm liquid drying on my face. I try to speak and there is a pain on the lips. There is a tugging at the skin when it twitches and warm liquid dribbling down my neck.

The air starts to grow hot.

Is the base on fire?

I try to struggle but everything hurts. I can hear the panic, the scrambling of bodies. I can hear the medbay doors open. The Medic is panicking. He is shouting frantically over and over in German. Bits and pieces – They are here! They are here! I hear him rummage around for utensils, metal clattering against wood and tile.

The scalpel blade touches my throat momentarily before I hear Medic scream and run. I try to move, and find my hands free. Someone picks me up, like I was a child.

Soon the heat and dry is gone, and the ground is moving beneath me. Something pricks at the mouth, at the eyes. The pain is blinding, but soon the lips part and the eyelids can open. I am in a camper-van – much like Sniper’s. That Spy is sitting next to me. He is wearing a black suit, with no balaclava. His hair is black, and his eyes a bright, beautiful green. He tells me to rest.

“We will be home soon.”

Home turns out to be a run-down base. Despite my protests, the Spy carries me inside. I see the RED Engineer, and he tips his hardhat at me. Says that I had it right from the start. I see the BLU Sniper and Scout from B1213, though I doubt they ever are apart. Scout saved Sniper, and Sniper looks after him like an older brother. There are other faces, but I do not recognize them. The black-suited Spy carries me into a bedroom.

Home is a soft bed. Not a cot. A real bed, with a real mattress and feather pillows.

I ask him who he is when he helps me with my clothes.

There is a smile in his eyes, a lovely, glittery, enchanting smile. I am lost in them for the barest moment. And I miss what he tells me.

I will have to ask him again later.

9 .

A/N: almost to the finale


I do not know how long I am asleep. That Spy is sitting at my bedside when I wake up. It does not look like he has left my side or slept. He is chewing on the end of his cigarette, still without his balaclava. I am still sore when I manage to sit up. The pain is most noticeable in my eye. He reaches out to steady me as I sit. There is a headache pounding in my skull, and I still have so many questions to ask.

He asks How do you feel?

I tell him my eye hurts, and that I have a headache.

He says You have been asleep for two days

I look at him in disbelief.

He sticks his cigarette in his pocket I imagine you have questions

I nod, slowly, and hold my head. I ask him where we are, who are we, questions a normal person, a normal Spy, would ask. He tells me that we are what will be the only pocket of resistance when RED merges with BLU. There are so few, he tells me. A Sniper, a Scout, a Medic, and the two of us.

I tell him he is mad. That there is no way we can stand up to those monsters.

He laughs at me. There is a glitter in those green eyes. What does he know that I do not? He helps me stand, and offers to give me a tour. I find myself leaning on him, though I could do without his hand on my waist.

The base is, at best, skin and bones. There are no defenses, no fortifications. The Sniper, I cannot remember his name at the moment, tips his hat at us as we pass. The name ‘Maria’ is scratched into his rifle barrel. The Scout is right behind him, on a crutch. I can hear them start to argue when we pass. Sniper is telling the boy to go back to bed and rest like the Medic told him, but the Scout says that it is, and I quote, “fucking boring”.

Reminds me of my sister and I when we were young.

He takes me to the Medic next. There is something about him. Not like the other RED Medics I have met, not like the other man I spent time with. He is clean, standing up straight, and the way he and the Spy look at each other…

The Medic sits me on the table, checking me over.

There is something unnerving about him. Like the Spy, there is something I cannot put my finger on. He calls the Spy by many names – Trickster, Jester, and Coyote are the most common. The Spy calls him the Jackal. These nicknames do not fill me with confidence. The Medic checks my left eye. He and the Spy talk to each other in a language I have not heard in my lifetime. He soon gives me something for the pain, and the Spy and I are off again.

When we reach the den, he helps me to the couch.

I ask him if we have a plan.

He laughs at me, a chilling, canine-like laugh. It makes my hair stand on end. The way he looks at me makes me shiver. He tilts my chin up so I look into those green eyes.

“Do not doubt the blind man.”

The next day, our Scout is limping around without his crutches. The Jackal-Medic says that he will be able to run in a day or so. The boy spends his freedom trotting around the perimeter. I am still a little wobbly on my feet, but I hold the wall as I walk. I make my way up to the snipe deck, where – as I expected – the gunman is seated with his Maria. He looks up at me briefly and motions to a seat, though his finger never leaves the trigger of his gun. I sit next to him.

“Ye started figurin’ things out in the REDs.”

I nod.

“Ye don’t seem too bothered with our problem.”

I tell him I do not know how the other two can be so calm.

He nods a little.

“That Spy an’ Medic are both nuts. Spy thinks ‘e’s some fruity Yank coyote god, an’ the Gipo-German believes ‘im.”

I look at him like he’s sprouted another head. He can’t be serious. Is he? I put my jaw back where it should be, and before I can say anything, the Sniper shoos me from the deck. I wander the halls, now with much to think about. Things make even less sense now than they did before.

That evening, I lay in bed with the window open. There is a soft breeze in the world. Something feels out of place. Perhaps it is what the Sniper said. Why would a Frenchman even consider such an absurd idea? And what if he believes it? In the lingering back of my mind, I wonder if it is true. If it is, why would an American deity be posing as a Frenchman?

There must be an answer…

10 .

A/N: I was gonna wait a little bit to actually post the ending, but I liked it too much. Here it is.


The Spy calls us early the next morning. I find my suit is gone, replaced with a black one. Finely tailored, fits well. I think nothing of it, though it is good to have clean clothes, and not the same RED uniform over and over. We have no war room, so we gather in the kitchen. Spy is leaning on the table, over a map. There are papers strewn all over the place, taped to the walls in a sickening collage. The Jackal-Medic is the last one to arrive.

The Spy straightens up, and announces the situation.

The armies have merged.

There is no reaction around us. We have seen it coming, and the shock is only lessened by stone faces. I light a cigarette as he continues.

One bright day in the middle of the night two dead boys went out to fight

He lets us know he has a plan. The tone, however, does not fill me with confidence. He sounds saddened, as if this is his last hurrah. There is an air to the room. Something that tells us that we perhaps will not walk from this. Something that tells us that perhaps this is our last stand. Our first and last fight.

I realize it now, and must excuse myself from the room.

Back to back they faced each other drew their swords and shot each other

He and I. Are we both dead boys? This little army is not to stop the overwhelming onslaught of the RED and BLU coalition. No. We are here to make one last show. One show for the people.

I find myself in the office.

A deaf policeman heard the noise and came and killed the two dead boys

Somewhere, a phone rings. Somewhere, an old woman picks up the phone. She speaks to the voice on the other end, and what she hears makes her drop the phone in shock. She struggles to bend down and pick it up, having to sit down afterwards. At first, her tone is angry, and then it softens, and soon she is crying. She pleads with the voice on the other end of the line. Then, she simply nods, and her tone is one of a solemn approval. She tells the voice she loves it, and then hangs up. A maid asks if she is alright, and she slowly nods. All she says is,

Finally, I am proud of him.

The Spy finds me. It is dark when I am discovered, and I have been staring at the phone since sundown. He leans in the doorway, and not a word is exchanged. I believe we understand each other. We know what we must do, what we all have to do. We will stand on that lonely road, and we will die with our heads held high. Those glittery eyes look at me, and I look back at him.

If you don’t believe this lie is true ask the blind man he saw it too

I stand, and head towards him. He moves to let me by. Briefly, I sense something otherworldly about him. Briefly, I believe he is some higher power. To march straight to the end without batting an eye.

I go to my room.

The day comes with a northern chill. There is fire and blood in the wind. My eye hurts when I wake up. I get dressed, and get my weaponry. There is a letter on my nightstand. I recognize it as the same writing as the RED Spy I worked with before my… liberation. He writes that he has found the secret that both forces have been hiding. He goes into detail about facilities, monsters grown in test tubes, science that sounds straight out of an episode of Star Trek. But I do not doubt the reality of it.

He writes that I will see it when we make our stand.

There is blood in the wind and it rakes at my heart.

The Sniper starts up his van, and one by one we crawl in. There is silence among us. We say nothing to one another. No words need be said. I have known these men for mere days and yet it feels like a lifetime. To say I wish it did not have to end in a slaughter would be foolish. When I started, when I stepped into this war, I knew the consequences. I knew I would have to fall one day. If this is the day that all the world watches us and judges us, then by god I will die with the world knowing that I did not march with the monsters and the war machine.

The van comes to a stop on the side of a road, and we all step out. My heart is pounding.

One by one we stand on that road. There are clouds in the distance, and we can hear the earth roar. There is no plan. There is no time for grand heroics. This patch of concrete will be the end of it all.

And like the two dead boys, we have come out to fight.

The earth shakes as the monster approaches.

And when they come near, I can see. Identical troops. Snipers with RED armbands look exactly like Snipers with BLU armbands. Medics mirroring Medics. It dawns on me that this is what that RED had told me. An infinite supply of troops through the abomination of sciences and magics. This is what the Medic saw. This is what the Spy saw. This is what drove them mad. The monsters of BLU and RED have bastardized nature herself.

The army stops when they are within shooting distance.

Back to back, we face each other.

I look into the eyes of those faces I see. All the same. There is no life in those eyes.

My left eye hurts. It sees nothing in them. These are only puppets. Flesh and bone puppets with no life, no will. My left eye sees them as abominations, monsters, cadavers.

My left eye sees ghosts.

Draw our swords, and shoot each other

Somewhere, a newspaper reads that the terrorists have been crushed. Somewhere, the article mentions five men who stood on a road and were gunned down where they stood. The words read that they did not move for the war machine. There is a photo of their bodies. A young man from Boston with a torso of fleshy confetti. A gunman from Australia – one shot straight to the heart – his hand is still on his Maria. A German doctor clutching the hand of a Frenchman, the two of them went down together.

Somewhere, the article reads that the last body was not recovered. Somewhere, there is a call for whoever took the corpse to burn it. In the sewers and the alleys, there are men and women who decide they do not want to let the new world change into this. In the factories and the grass, they join together to form something that will stand against the juggernaut. They heard the message.

Somewhere, there is a knock on the door. Somewhere, an old woman answers it.

Somewhere, that old woman is crying, and holding her son.

She whispers I am proud of you

And she lets him go.
Delete Post: