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No. 3627
I apologize if this is a little rough, I had trouble with the chapter. The next one will be more interesting, I promise. Just as a warning, there's some bullet-wound play in this.
Feedback is always appreciated, thanks!
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A thousand thoughts raced through the Medic’s mind as he scrambled to pull himself up. He knew the Sniper was up there, watching him, taking aim. He’d seen what the man’s deadly red dot had done to the Heavy’s head, and he’d seen that same dot racing along the ground right now, quivering over the rocks and threatening to do the same to him. Blinding panic numbed his body as he hobbled his way around the corner and stumbled towards the building. He didn’t risk a glance up at his soon-to-be-killer, pushing every ounce of his being towards getting inside that door instead.
And then he felt it. He felt it before he heard it. The splitting of his flesh as another projectile entered his body following the sharp crack of the rifle, the bullet tearing clean through the back of his other leg.
The Medic fell again with an agonized cry, which echoed off the surrounding, and now eerily quiet, buildings. He landed shoulder-first into the dust again, a rushing sound filled his ears, and somehow the German had managed to pull himself the last few feet into the safety of the concrete structure. He balled up, his body shuddering hard as he fought off shock and tore the blood-spattered coat from himself and instinctively began tearing at it, desperate to make strips of cloth to stop the bleeding. The precious healing rays of his gun were lost out in the dirt, and though fear rattled his brain, he knew he had to stop it somehow. Reluctantly, he looked down to his legs where dark, sticky crimson had flooded out of the circular holes and crept over the majority of the bottom of his pants, running into and over his boots. The Medic took the shredded cloth around each leg, creating sloppy and instantly blood-soaked knots with shaking hands. Immediately after, he felt around his belt for the reassuring presence of his bonesaw and took it, pressing it close to his chest as he leaned back against the wall, trying desperately to slow his breathing as he listened for the sound of approaching footsteps.
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Up in his roost, the Sniper grinned wickedly, his tongue running over his canines as he watched the Medic fall. He waited until the doctor had managed to pull himself into the building and out of sight of his scope before lowering his rifle. Still smiling to himself, the marksman propped the weapon lovingly against the wall, stood, stretched and made his way to the ladder, grabbing his Kukhri from a nearby crate as he walked past. His calm demeanor was a sharp contrast to the excitement he felt growing inside, but the Sniper forced himself to remain composed as he descended from his roost to finish his hunt on foot.
The Australian’s boots kicked up a small cloud of dust as he hopped the last few rungs of the ladder and landed, crouching immediately and feeling around with his knife for any Spies that may have been lurking near his nest. He found none, and listened for the sounds of battle, which were far off and nearly inaudible. Satisfied at the lack of immediate threat, the Sniper made his way towards the concrete structure that the Medic had ducked into. His back stayed near the wall as he walked, eyes glancing around for the mirage-like movement of a creeping Spy, or the wandering blue dot of the enemy Sniper (though he was sure his hit on him earlier had been fatal). The sun was hanging lower now, the sky taking on rich orange and purple and shadows growing long and dark. The Sniper’s boots crunched softly as he approached the opening, the hand holding the massive knife trembled slightly and the predatory half-grin returned to his face as he entered.
To his immediate right, surrounded by a pool of rich red blood, the Medic was huddled, his rags soaked through. The German’s head snapped up, eyes wide and fearful, at the Sniper who’d sauntered in so casually. The Medic pressed himself hard against the wall; taking note of the Khukri gripped firmly in the Australian’s hand, and turned the bonesaw out defensively. The Sniper only grinned wider, teeth bright in the shadowed room, his eyes invisible against the dark lenses of his aviators.
“Evenin’, Doc.”
The words had barely left the Aussie’s mouth before the Medic leapt up suddenly, swinging his weapon out with a sharp thrust towards the Sniper, ignoring the fiery pain shooting up through his legs. The Sniper jumped back in surprise but dodged the desperate attack easily, kicking the Medic’s legs out from under him. The German fell with a thud and a shocked cry back to the floor, the saw clattering from his hand, and with one easy motion the Sniper brought a boot down hard on the fallen man’s wrist and stood over him.
“Now,” He pointed his blade down at the Medic, “…don’t go makin’ this more difficult than it needs to be.”
The Medic, his face pressed against the slab of cool concrete, strained to glare up at him and narrowed his blue eyes in disgust. His mind raced, trying to find an escape route, suppressing thoughts of what the enemy Sniper was preparing to do to him, but didn’t dare move again.
The Sniper bent down and shoved one knee firmly in his captive’s back. He groped the Medic’s body, feeling firm muscles underneath the thin material for the wound he’d inflicted earlier. His hand spent extra, unnecessary time on the German’s shoulders and slipping under his chest, where he knew for sure he didn’t hit, but found a new appreciation for the man’s toned yet moderate physique. After another moment, the hunter finally began giving into those secret longings as he slipped off the German, kneeling behind him and pressing the point of the Kukhri against his spine in a threatening reminder. The fingers of his other hand trailed up the inside of the BLU’s leg, caressing the sticky fabric and coming to rest on the ragged bloody knot, and then finding the jagged, circular hole just inches away. The Medic winced, and the Sniper’s grin returned, sharp as ever.
“Looks like I did a numbah on ya, mate.” He said softly, amusement in his voice.
His calloused finger fingered the hole, gently at first, lovingly admiring the ragged edge and soft, open flesh. The Sniper heard the Medic’s breath hitch in his throat and felt his body tense, a pained sound whimpered from between his dry lips as he dug in deeper. Rocking back on the balls of his feet, the Sniper stood suddenly, his now trembling, bloody hands starting at the clasp of his belt.
“No sense in wasting more time, I s’pose. Let’s get started...”
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