I am intrigued...please continue!

As much of a fan as I am of Monster I have to say that this tribute is off to a great start. A team with duplicates is not too often done and may present characterization issues in the future, but it works here (especially with the body toll). I love the inner monologue of BLU Spy- I can see him being a somewhat snarky Tentaspy when the operation's done.

tl;dr You have my interest piqued, Sir. Please do continue.

Thanks! I'm quite pleased to hear that at least a couple of people are enjoying this so far. I'm writing part two right now.

Oh jeeze, I'm wicked flattered.

And I dig this so far, I'm definitely interested in what's going to happen next. My attention, you has it. Like the anon said, multiple classes on a team is a constant pain in my ass something to really pay attention to when these guys get more fleshed out. What flesh is there is neat, I like that Spy already.

It's always the BLU Medics doing the creepy stuff, isn't it? Makes me so believe the Builders have some real weirdoes on their Board of Directors.

Hm. So it is. Totally didn't notice that. I didn't even really pay attention to who was RED or BLU until I absolutely had to. Well then. BLU is officially Creepos-are-us.

II

“Did you see it?” The BLU Engineer was ecstatic, talking through a mouthful of corned beef. Everyone else at the dinner table watched their plates in silence, picking at their food but none –save Scout- really eating any. “Fucking-A sentry in the water. Who’da thought? I was worried that Matilda wouldn’t survive the trip down there, but she let me build her right back up, water or not. And she’s still fine, idn’t that right, Tilly?” He leaned back in is chair and smiled at the beeping coming from the hallway. It was, of course, automatic, timed with every stop and turn of the sentry. “That’s right. Ain’t nothing she can’t handle.”
“Your sentry did good,” the Scout said. His previous enthusiasm for his food had died down now that the plate was empty. He picked at a string bean (why string beans? He hated string beans and the young Medic knew that) and nodded at the plate. “Yeah, real good. They never suspected a thing…”
“Damn STRAIGHT they didn’t suspect anything!”
“Neither did ze Spy,” the youngest Medic (and their cook) said quietly, his voice heavy with a German accent. All eyes turned to him. He sat with his hands folded on his lap. “It was stupid,” he said. He looked near tears. “We…he…using him as bait? To draw ze ozer team into ze vater? You knew zhat, zhat fat, monster of a Pyro is ze best fucking spy checker any of us has ever seen.” He was looking at the other Medic present. “Vhat did you expect? Zhat ze flames vould just not hurt him because ve had a plan? Because ve only vanted him to get a leettle on fire? It doesn’t vork zhat vay!”
The other Spy – the one who had attempted to eavesdrop the previous night , and now the only Spy– suddenly slammed his hands down on the table, stood, and stormed out of the room.
“See! Do you see vhat you have done?” The Medic stood as well. “Zhis is…zhis is your fault!” He followed the Spy out, leaving the others to pick at their food in silence.
“Don’t take it hard, lad,” the extremely inebriated Demo said with a goofy grin. “He’s always b’n all righ’ous like that. Y’know it better’n all of us here put t’gether.” He stabbed at the meat on his plate and brought it up to his mouth to tear a loose, stringy chunk away. “An’ really, ‘f ya think abou’ it,” he said through the mouthful (and much to the disgust of everyone there,) “it was a good plan. Jus’ maybe send ‘im in a Pyro’s suit next time. Something flame r‘tardant, anyways.” He chased the beef with a swig from his bottle, then smacked his lips. “
“There will be no next time,” the older Medic said quietly, his voice clear, mostly English but with a noticeable German undertone. “It was a good plan that was poorly executed. If our best Spy could not do it, then nobody will.” He stood, sighed, and picked up his plate. “Now, if you excuse me, I have quite a bit of paperwork to fill out.”
He left without another word, leaving the Demo, Scout, Sniper, Engineer, and Soldier to eat. They continued to pick at their food until it was their turn to patrol while the other half of the team came in to eat.

RED’s Snipers were nervous. They were usually fine in their perches, alone, watching the world through their night vision sights. But tonight they were spooked.
Around midnight, one of them left his perch and made his way towards one of the others’. He climbed up and sat down on a crate next to the other sniper.
“’ey Shortie,” the taller of the two, and the one who called the perch home, said to the other.
“Spunk.” Shortie replied as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot nearby.
“’s quiet,” Spunk said as he rested his rifle across his lap. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “Far too quiet for my liking.”
“Hm.” It was a neutral sound, but not disinterested. Uncomfortable, really. “Well we could remedy that,” Shortie said as he edged a bit closer to the taller Sniper. Spunk casually threw his arm around the other’s shoulders and sighed.
“At least they died quickly,” Spunk said as his fingers dangled on Shortie’s chest. “That BLU Spy, though… I hear he got sent off. Had to be taken away to an external hospital for his injuries. They aren’t sure if he’ll ever see action again.”
Shortie sighed and leaned against Spunk.
“Well that is all fine and good, but I meant we could remedy the silence in another way.” His hands went down and started rubbing Spunk’s leg.
“Oi. This is serious. I take pride in my headshots. It’s quick and clean. No bloody, painful mess. No dragging the death out, just boom! Dead. But this guy’s suffering at our hands. I know that they’re our enemies, but… c’mon, mate, don’t you feel a little bit guilty?”
Now that the other Sniper had said it, Shortie did feel bad. It wasn’t often that you heard about someone being taken off site for medical treatment. It must’ve been really bad.
“Yeah. I guess.”
They fell into a deep, thoughtful silence and neither said anything for the rest of the night.

“Your name is Coh-lee-oh-ih-dee-uh-nine.”
It was the first thing he heard upon waking.
“Your name is Coh-lee-oh-ih-dee-uh-nine.”
What? Was this person addressing him? The BLU spy opened his eyes, then promptly shut them. Oh, good God, it was bright. And…dry. Why did he feel dry? Not just his mouth or his throat, but everything, especially the skin on his legs. He went to feel them to see if he had dry skin, but he couldn’t move.
Why couldn’t he move?
Slowly, he opened his eyes again. The room was very white, and there were several doctors dressed in very white coats with very white masks over their faces. One was bent over him, watching him behind thick glasses, and repeating that one sentence in that annoying, annoying voice.
“Your name is Coh-lee-oh-ih-dee-uh-nine.”
“No’s not,” he muttered, voice heavy with sleep.
It may not have been the reaction that they wanted, but it was a reaction. The three doctors practically buzzed with excitement.
“Where’m I?” he asked.
“Here,” the doctor who had been speaking said as he wrote something down on the clipboard he was carrying. “And here you will stay until you have fully recovered.”
“Fr’m what?”
Seriously, from what? He tensed up and looked around frantically. What was going on? The last thing he remembered, they were sitting around, making plans to attack the RED base. Someone suggested just all-out assaulting the damn thing (Scout? Soldier? Soldier.) and then someone else was talking about sentries in the water, and –
The water.
Oh.
Oh, the fire.
“Oh,” he said as his whole body relaxed. “Th’fire. Shit.”
“Well, yes. The fire was the first part. We had to get you here somehow, and it just made getting your skin off that much easier.”
…What?

So far so good! I like it, and can't wait for the next part.

>“Well, yes. The fire was the first part. We had to get you here somehow, and it just made getting your skin off that much easier.”

Okay, officially, mildly freaked at that line. Which is awesome. I also like how you've got multiples of each class, and the way you're writing them isn't confusing at all. Uhm...no actual criticism for ya..just keep going!

III

They were taking him somewhere. He was still on the bed and the bed must have had wheels, because the ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights were passing above him. The orderly doing the pushing was looking forward, keeping an eye on where he was going. Never once did he look down or tell him where they were going.

Not that he would have cared much. After the discussion that he had had with the doctors - or rather, the massive amount of information that they had fed him – he was a bit disinterested.

”It is an experiment,” they had said. Or rather, the one had said. He did most of the talking and the prodding and the writing. The others just watched. ”The BLUs are getting their asses handed to them day in and day out across the board. They need an upper hand of sorts. So we are taking you – Spies, mostly, a few Scouts where the terrain calls for it- and…modifying you. To the advantage of your team.”

He had listened numbly as he rattled off numbers and statistics and random medical mumbo-jumbo. “Legs were useless…feel better once you are in the water …named after cephalopods…Coleoidea…gills…quite an ingenious workaround the problem of…”

He didn’t care. He really, didn’t care. He felt sick to his stomach (supposing he even had one anymore, the way these freak doctors worked).
”Please…” He had cut them off mid-sentence. They stared, as though they had forgotten that he was once a normal, young man.

”Please stop. I…I don’t care. I don’t see why any of this matters. For Christ’s sake, shut up or kill me. Please.”

And they smiled. Like…oh, Lord, like they’d been waiting for that exact line.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter at all, son.” He patted his shoulder and nodded to one of the other doctors, who took out a syringe. “We are simply trying to humour you while you still have some of your humanity left. Hell, I will give you my social security number if you ask. Why?” He laughed, briefly and meanly. “You won’t remember any of this by the time we’re through with you. Not this conversation, not your God, not your name. You will know only what we tell you.”

He felt the distinct, dull prick of the needle and then nothing.

Hours? Days? Moments? Later he awoke on the same bed, rolling through the halls.

Odd, though, that he remembered the conversation. He had been expecting that…whatever they’d shot him up with to wipe his memory – short term, at the very least. But it was just something to knock him out, it seemed.

He was a bit sad to realise just how excited he was at the prospect of losing his memory. But hey, if he didn’t remember where he came from, he wouldn’t have to be so upset about losing everything, right? It was probably why they were going to wipe his mind anyways, he imagined. Can’t have a proper death machine if it had a past and feelings that could fuck up its performance, right? Yes, this was proba-
Cold water. No warning. The bed never stopped and nobody lifted him from it. Just the brief feeling of falling and then the breathless plunge into the freezing water. His skin tightened and he involuntarily gasped, head still submerged several feet below the surface.

This is it. I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m drowning in ice water and thank God, because this nightmare is finally over.

If only.

He kept sucking in the breaths, convinced that the more he inhaled, the quicker he’d die. But there was no crushing, choking burning in his lungs. There was no slow fading to darkness.
There was only the brief exhilaration at the feeling of oxygen where no oxygen was expected, and then more of it as he kept hyperventilating under the surface.

A gloved hand grabbed him by the back of his neck – there was something attached there, not a collar, but something – and hauled him to the surface.

“Ah, very good, you can breathe,” the head doctor said, smile in place. “Good. Good. My apologies for the abrupt submersion, but if we told you that you could breathe water, would you have believed us?”

He just glared and gasped, trying to adjust to the air, lower half still in the cold water and not liking it one bit. The hand on his neck all but threw him down onto the concrete edge of the small pool (more of a deep tub, really) and both hands came down onto his neck.

“Into your lungs, Coleoidea-nine. You will be working both on dry and wet terrain. Your lungs.”

He continued to gasp, whole body twitching. Why did it suddenly feel so much harder to breathe with the doctor’s hands on his throat? He didn’t have time to wonder as another hand came down on his mouth. No more gasping. What the hell were they trying to do? Whatever it was, they looked pissed.

“Breathe, dammit!”

And he did, through his nose. The air came rushing into his lungs and his eyes widened, then drooped with relief. The hands left his mouth and neck and the head doctor started writing something on his clipboard. He stood, still writing, and turned.

The other doctor, still crouching, suddenly reached forward, grabbed the Spy’s face, and shoved him under the water. Once again there was the gasping as the cold gripped his chest. This time he choked, water going into his lungs. He gripped the doctor’s arms, trying to get himself up into the air, but he wouldn’t budge.

Several dark, blue tentacles rose to grip the white-coat around his arms, legs, and torso. For a moment he tried to haul himself up, but then he caught sight of the narrow appendages. It was the first time he saw them, and the first time he realised what they really had done to him.

The doctor fell into the tank with a splash and the both of them sank to the bottom, desperate for air.

Within seconds (though it felt like hours) a long hook came down and snagged the Spy, doctor still in his grasp. Once he was near the surface there was the hand on the back of his neck, and then they were both hauled out of the water.

He coughed up the contents of his lungs (and very nearly his stomach) and weakly tried to crawl a bit further out. He was done with that freezing water. Before he could get anywhere there was the whine of electricity and something was attached to the thing on the back of his neck. He felt a brief shock and then nothing for a good long time.


He awoke slowly. The room he was in was bright and he hated it. He tried to curl up and pull his arms over his head, but he was strapped down. Again.

He let out a low groan as pain bloomed in his head. It was the delayed result of the shock he’d gotten before he’d blacked out.

“Does it hurt?”

The voice was soft and seemed genuinely concerned. He nodded and winced. Even nodding hurt.

Whoever had spoken stood and walked over.
God, those footsteps were loud. And the beeping of the nearby monitors. And the low whine of electric current.

Oh shit.

He started pulling at the restraints. It would be a cold day in hell when he let someone shock him like that again. No.

“Shhh, shhh.” A gloved hand rest on his shoulder and another went behind him to the thing on his neck. The touch sent shivers down his whole body and he could feel his tentacles writhing beyond his control. The hand on his shoulder left and there was the sound of something being taken out of its case. The doctor fiddled with whatever it was on the back of his neck and he could hear the sound of a syringe being emptied. After a few moments he felt only a pleasant, warm buzz and his whole body relaxed.

“There’s a good boy,” the doctor said as he threw the syringe out and pulled a stool up to the bed. The Spy was surprised to notice that it was the third doctor. Not the head one – he didn’t seem the type to have the capacity for care. And the other one was probably a bit traumatized from being dragged into the water.

“Wh’s gowin’ on?” He asked, mouth heavy with the drug. He could feel his brain turning into a happy, druggy mush.

“I am punishing you,” the doctor said as he pulled his gloves off. “For trying to pull my comrade into the water.”

“But I was’n try’n t’do that.” He closed his eyes and frowned, trying to search for the correct words through the haze. “I w’s try’n t’ get out. Couldn’ breathe.”

Bare hands ran through his hair and his face relaxed. How long had it been since another person had done that? Sure, he’d gotten some attention from the other Spy, but it was always him doing the petting. His last girlfriend had been like this… yes, that was very nice. He could feel a low rumble deep in his throat. The doctor laughed.

“I never could understand that,” he said as he pulled his hand away. The Spy nearly cried. "They always purr.”

He stood and walked around the table, hand trailing down the Spy’s side. He stopped where the tentacles met the torso and inspected a few things.

“I must say, you are holding together remarkably well,” he said as he poked and prodded. “The others…not so much. The skin falls off first, then the tentacles. Their bodies reject them. But you. Your body was already a wreck. No skin to build off of, and your immune system was easy to suppress and eventually replace. Unfortunate that it took eight others before you to get it right.” He stopped and gripped a tentacle. The Spy cracked open an eye and made a vaguely inquisitive sound.

“You do not seem to be quite as smart as the others, though. Or at least not as inquisitive.” He squeezed the tentacle and the Spy’s eyes flew open as he gasped. The doctor chuckled. “They all had so many more questions. Three, Six, and Seven all demanded to know where their dicks went. It was the first thing they asked the moment they saw what happened. Do you know?” He squeezed again and the Spy moaned. “Yes, I think you know.” He started running his hands over the lithe appendage.

“Jus’ the one?” The Spy asked as his breathing picked up. “Or all ‘f ‘em?”

He could practically feel the doctor grinning. One of his hands moved over to another tentacle and he started doing much the same to it as he was with the other. The feeling was notably more subtle, but it was still definitely there.

“If they were all like that, I promise you would not be able to move,” he said as he returned his attention to the one. “It would be…difficult. To go about your daily business.”

So his dick was a tentacle? Cool. He’d always wanted to be able to brag about having the longest Johnson. He giggled at that and the doctor smiled.

“I see the drugs are still working. They should wear off soon enough. Until then, how about we have a little fun? Get to know each other a little better?”

What? Was this guy coming on to him?

“Whuh?”

“Sorry. That was terribly phrased.” He cleared his throat. “How about you get to know yourself a little better, and I will watch.”

“I…I don’…what? ”

An impatient sigh. The doctor walked around so that he was hovering just over the Spy’s face.
“Fuck yourself.”

Well that was rude. The Spy opened his mouth to say so, but the doctor slapped him. What the hell?

“Fuck. Yourself.”

He walked around to the other side once more, took that one oh-so-sensitive (and, at this point, a bit stiff) tentacle, and turned it inwards towards what was probably the world’s most complicated crotch. The other tentacles naturally followed suit without any further prompting. The Spy’s face went red as he couldn’t help but feel himself.

“You…is that…did you turn me into a woman? ” He half-screamed. Apparently being turned into a tentacle beast was perfectly fine, if depressing, but a woman was unbearable.

“Shut up.” It was a harsh sound and for a moment the Spy paused. “You are not a woman. That is for waste.” He smirked. Whatever kindness he’d walked into that room with was gone – that smirk was pure evil. “Although we did have fun with the placement of the nerves in that area. There was an…excess bundle of them that had to go somewhere.” He chuckled. “Let’s just say, no, you are not a functioning female but you may experience much the same sensations.” His smile dropped and his face hardened. “Now, fuck yourself. ”

Oh shit.

Oh, shit.

He was horny. The stroking –and probably the drugs – had done that. And ten minutes ago he might have done this without so much as a second thought. But the drugs were wearing off and his sense of “this is embarrassing and stupid” was kicking in.

“Why would you-”

”Because we can! Now, for the last time, fuck yourself!”

He walked over to the source of the electrical humming and pulled out a small clamp. He turned a knob on the device that the clamp was attached to and the humming picked up. The Spy needed no further prompting. The one tentacle shot up into himself and he bucked, gasped, and then screamed.

His whole body tensed as that familiar feeling shot through his abdomen. He squeezed his eyes shut and whined. And it just kept going. After a few moments he realised that he was still squirming around inside himself. That might have something to do with it. He pulled the tentacle out (now limp) and his whole body relaxed.

He was dizzy, hot, and suddenly felt very dry. He wanted to be away and in the water. He turned his head to say so, but he had to pause at the sight of the doctor. His face was red, his eyes wide, and his breathing laboured.

“W-well done, my boy,” he said, voice strained. He cleared his throat, went to stand, and then thought better of it. “Very well done. Now…” He licked his lips and looked around. “You do not tell anyone about this, okay?”

Well duh. He wasn’t exactly proud of what had just happened. If he could never remember it again, he’d be the happiest non-man on the planet. But that wasn’t what the doctor was talking about. He finally stood and the Spy’s eyes went straight to the guy’s stiffy.

“No,” he said immediately.

Ultimately, he didn’t have a choice.


Once more there was a splash, a gasp, and the surprise of oxygen rushing past the line of gills in his neck. This time the water was a pleasant eighty-two degrees, and the pool was enormous.

Not that he cared. He let himself sink to the bottom corner and huddled up into a ball.
He had enjoyed it. No matter how much he hated to admit it, he had enjoyed it. It made him sick.

And the doctor still shocked him afterwards. He told him that he deserved it for resisting it.
His hand went shakily to the back of his neck. There were two things. A hard plastic socket - most likely used for injections – and a small metal ring. Both were solidly embedded into his skin and probably his spine. He certainly wasn’t going to survive any attempts to rip them out.

That was depressing.

He suddenly wondered what the other BLU Spy was doing. Did he miss him as much as he did? Did he know that something was wrong? Was he even still alive? He curled up tighter and gripped his stomach.

He heard the vague splash of something entering the water, but didn’t really care until something had hooked the metal loop on the back of his neck. He suddenly found himself being dragged to the surface.

He gave a brief, weak struggle, trying to at least get the hook off so that he could rise on his own – it hurt being dragged up like that. But his head was in the air before he knew it.
“Stop!” He half-shouted. His lungs instantly took over from his gills and he turned around as the hook was removed.

“Good. You can breathe.”

Two of the doctors stood on the edge of the pool. His “friend” was missing.

“You will eat now,” one of them said. An orderly opened the nearby door and wheeled in a gurney. “You will learn to eat what we give you. You will not like the alternative.”

The orderly pulled the cover off the gurney and tilted it into the water. The naked body of the third doctor fell in. His throat had been slashed.

“Do not disappoint us,” the head doctor said. He turned and the both of them left.

Once they and the orderly were gone, the Spy stared at the body. He wanted to scream, but nothing came out. He rushed to the edge of the pool to puke, and again nothing came out. For a while he just dry heaved until he couldn’t any longer. He sank back under, trembling, let his breathing switch to allow for the water, and promptly passed out on the bottom of the pool.

No, the poor Tentaspy. D:

Do we need to start a Save the Tentaspy Society, too?

>>6927
OH GOD.
THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS THAT HORRIFY ME IN THIS CHAPTER AND I LOVE IT.

YESSSSS

oh my god this is so awesome, poor Tentaspy D:

Oh my goodness. This is terrible in the best way. Got some awesome little details happening. Also... what they were doing with Scouts?

I would join a Save the Tentaspy Society now.

I absolutely loved this last installment. I've been thinking about doing my own tentaspy fic for awhile, but this one and Monster are already so great, and I have so much other shit to do...

Not sure about the Scouts. I was thinking of having him catch a glimpse of one or two of the failed ones. Probably just attempts to have them in Bonk! mode 24/7.

And damn. Save the Tentaspy Society. Might have to draw that.

>>6936
Or maybe they were making a Scout harem.

...You know, 'cuz I hear that happens a lot...

IV

Four months had passed since one of BLU’s Spies had been sent off to the external medical site. The rest of the team was in shambles for a while. The younger Medic and the other Spy clung to each other, both feeling guilty for not being able to stop the other Medics’ plans. Their own Pyro seemed more distant than usual, as though the fact that the other Pyro wielded the same weapon somehow made him accountable. On a few late, drunken nights he’d admitted to their Demo about feeling guilty that he didn’t go in with the Spy. At the very least he could have waited by the entrance, ready to put him out if it was too bad before he could reach the water.

The RED team was feeling it too. The Sniper had said it best – it was one thing when a guy was killed. You felt bad if you had a conscience (which most of them had long since learned to abandoned) or you were happy that it was him and not you. But when someone was left alive and in severe pain, there was this crushing guilt and the sense of inadequacy. The Snipers felt guilty. Why hadn’t they started firing back at their brothers across the water? So what if it was against the code? The Soldier felt guilty. He should’ve dragged them in earlier, or helped the other Soldier with the sentry, or, for Christ’sake, fired at the Snipers. Anything but the nothing he’d done.

In those first few, guilty weeks, when the screams of the Spy still echoed through the halls of the bases, both sides stayed well out of each others’ ways. They stayed indoors and slept and watched TV and built things and tore them down and, when they were really lonely and when the guilt had grew to be too much, now and again they fucked.

Until one day the two BLU Scouts woke up, decided that enough was enough, and ran headlong across the bridge for the RED fort. There had been no planning. No announcement. They woke up in the same bed, looked at each other, got dressed, and got back to work.

It was what they all needed.

Within seconds of the Announcer’s voice declaring the BLU intruders, the RED team was on its feet. The Snipers had their eyes peeled on the still-sleeping enemy base and the Heavies and their Medic chased down the two small interlopers. Everyone else headed for the entrances, ready for a charge.

Once again, nothing. The BLU base was quiet.

“What the FUCK?” RED Scout cried. He walked to the edge of the water and kicked a rock in. “Hey, you shitheads building more sentries?” he screamed. “Eh? Gonna’ burn one of your own boys again? Eh? Come on. Get out here! Face me, you-”

He was silenced by a ball hit to the back of his head. Both Scouts, one carrying the intel briefcase, rushed past him. One snagged up his ball as he walked by, but otherwise they didn’t stop as they laughed, jumped, and sprinted their way past. Both Pyros were burning at their heels and the Soldier and Demo were firing their respective explosives in their general direction as they thumped across the bridge. By the time the Heavies and their Medic made it up, the Scouts were inside their base and everyone was retreating back across the bridge.

“The FUCK was that?” Scout screamed. “What happened? What HAPPENED?” He was livid.

The Heavies exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Surprise attack? Where was backup?” one of them asked.

“There ain’t none!” The Scout shouted.

“Quiet yerself,” the Demo said as he walked past and into the base. “I’m guessing that their own mates are goin’ t’be just as surprised as we were.”

The rest of the team reluctantly – and a bit confusedly – followed him in. Well that had been quite the wakeup call. It seemed that someone would have to have a word with the Snipers about this…

BLU was indeed just as surprised as RED had been. When they got the announcement that they had captured the enemy’s intelligence, most of them thought that it was a distant dream and fell right back asleep. It wasn’t until two very loud Scouts were shouting through the halls, banging their bats on everything to wake everyone up, until they realised that no, it was not a dream.

“Whas’a matter wit’ you?” The Demo asked with a wide yawn. “Ain’t no intel, not wit’ ev’ryone in the funk we’ve all been in.”

They proudly produced the briefcase and everyone ooed and aawed over it. It’d been a long time since they’d seen an enemy briefcase. A long time.

“So open it,” the Engineer said as he grabbed at it.

The Scout who was holding it – they were almost identical, except that he had a considerable amount of freckles where the other’s skin was completely spotless – pulled it away.

“Ah. No. Not yet. ‘fore you get your greasy, crazy hands on this, we need to talk. Look at yourselves, all a’ya.” Most of the group frowned and looked themselves over. The young Medic was still in his pajamas, but otherwise they seemed fine. “See this? You are all excited and interested and pumped up. Except you, PJ’s. Get your damn clothes on next time you hear that the war just started up. But anyways, look. We needed this. Not for the info. Not for the adrenaline. To get us the fuck out of this funk. Now I will give you this briefcase if you promise that we are all ready to move the fuck on.”

There was a pause. A few shuffles and a sigh. The Engineer grabbed at the briefcase and ran with it downstairs to their own intel room. Most of the rest of the team followed, shouting for him not to mess them up.

The Medics and their remaining Spy stayed behind.

“What’s wrong?” The less-speckled Scout asked the younger Medic and the Spy. “You two fuck buddies interrupted in your fun? Or just can’t be bothered with important information?”

They exchanged glances and the Medic smiled before placing a hand on both Scouts’ shoulders.

“Sorry. Ve…Ve vere not expecting zis. It is a bit of a shock. But you are right. Ve all needed zis. Sorry zat ve are not as enthusiastic as ze ozers. I promise zat we appreciate it.”

He and the Spy exchanged a couple of smiles and took off towards the kitchen. The Scouts stared at each other, trying not to giggle.

“Did you see-”

“The look-”

“Like a faggy little-”

“Ahem.”

They turned to the older Medic, who was watching them both with a cold non-expression. The other Medic stood next to him, looking around.

“What’s your problem?” Both Scouts asked at the same time.

He cocked a brow and they exchanged more looks. Just then they noticed the various nicks, cuts, and bruises that the other had.

“Oh. Right,” ‘Freckles’ said as he shuffled a bit. “’m sure a bandaid’ll be fine or somethi-”

The Medic took him by the arm and his partner mirrored him with the other Scout. They dragged the two young men down to the infirmary and forced them to accept their care with detailed descriptions of gangrene and limb loss.

“You were stupid,” the younger Medic said as he patched up the paler, freckle-less of the two. “If you had given us time to formulate a plan-”

“The REDs mighta’ caught wind of it,” he said as he winced.

“Sorry. Not without a Spy they wouldn’t have. And I wouldn’t have damn near had a heart attack when the announcer started screaming that we had the intelligence.”
“Yeah, well, you never know. Maybe they DO have a new Spy, you know? And maybe we don’t know. Maybe he’s in the room already. Ever think of that?”

The Medic whapped him over the head with the back of his hand, but not hard.
“I never think about that. It’s how I sleep at night.” He finished patching the boy up and pushed him off the table. “Now get out of here, and please give us some warning next time.”

The other one was already finished. They saluted the two Medics and got out of the room as quickly as they could. The older men exchanged tight, almost forced looking smiles.

“Once our Spy comes back, and with those two, we will be unstoppable, the younger Medic said in German.

“One can only hope.

After that things went back to normal – or at least, as normal as things could get. On the BLU side, Spy and the young Medic’s growing relationship grew not only obvious, but obnoxious in the way that only young love could be obnoxious. The Pyro began chasing his enemies with his axe if they ever made it to the water. He absolutely did not want to have the guilt that the RED’s monster of a Pyro had to live with.

And he really was a monster. On the RED side things were fairly normal as well, but their giant, silent, Heavy-esque firebug had stopped doing his regular Spy checks and he only chased down an enemy when he was absolutely certain that he’d be able to kill him.

When BLU got a new Soldier, the first thing they did was try an attack. The poor green militant – who looked no older than their Scouts- made the mistake of cornering himself with no ammo. He was an easy, quick burn.

For four months things remained fine. Team members came and went. BLU lost their Demo and a Heavy, but both were replaced, plus two more Soldiers, fairly quickly. RED’s smaller Pyro had an unfortunate accident with a Sniper and they sent a second Scout and another Demo in his place.

The higher ups who ran this thing really had an odd idea of balance.


He found out fairly quickly what they had meant when they promised that he wouldn’t like the alternative to not eating the corpse.

When he had woken up, he immediately pushed the now-bloated body out of his pool. It smelled, it looked gross, and, above all, he was constantly reminded of their last encounter.

Unfortunately, he had to eat somehow. It became apparent after two more bodies and the halved carcass of a freshly butchered cow that he wasn’t going to eat raw meat.

It had been a week since his last meal when they dragged him out of the water by the hook on his neck and forced a feeding tube down his throat. He struggled – he’d decided not to give them anything anymore. If they wanted something, they would have to take it. But he was weak. They got it in and made sure he knew that what they were feeding him was a ground up human being.

“When you are out there, this will be all you can find on a regular basis. Rats will run out quickly and there is little to no vegetation. And if you are seen snooping around in the kitchen, you will most certainly not survive the encounter.”

By then there were more doctors. The rest of the medical compound must have heard about the success in what was called “Project Coleoidea” and, behind closed doors, when the higher-ups weren’t around, “Project Tentaspy.” They flocked to the pool for feeding times, always leaving disappointed when he either refused to eat at all or when the feeding tube was shoved down his throat.

It went like that for two weeks. They gave him a body, he nearly puked, and then they either shoved a tube down his throat or took the body and let him starve for another day. The process was hurting his throat and, worst of all, making him fat. Whatever they were giving him wasn’t entirely human flesh. There were other things mixed in that, without much daily activity, was making his once-narrow figure pudgier by the day.

It was at the end of the second week that they stopped force feeding him and started injecting everything he needed to survive directly into him. A second injection site was implanted into him (couldn’t have it all going to his brain) and they stopped bothering with the bodies.

After a week of this, he was starving. It was the oddest feeling, having all the nutrients one needed but nothing in your stomach. So when they came in to feed him, hook at the ready, he surfaced without prompting and looked up at the surprised group of doctors.

“No fight today, I see? You wouldn’t be hungry, now, would you?”

Still submerged up to right below his nose, he nodded slowly. The flock of doctors behind the head doctor started chattering amongst themselves.

“What would you like me to give you then? A nice steak? Perhaps some filet mignon?” They laughed and he smiled his cruel, bitter smile. “What are you expecting from me?”

Fuck this, he thought as he let his tired eyes droop. He was always tired, it seemed. I don’t have the energy for this. I’ll just die. He let himself sink down again, but before he could disappear to the bottom he felt the hook snag him in the back of the neck and drag him up.

“Oh no, C-9. If you are hungry, [\i] you will [i]eat. But you will be doing something for me first.” The chatter behind him died away and the Spy tried to look around at the doctor (which was hard to do when said doctor had a hook in the back of your neck).

“Tell me, what happened between you and your first offered meal?”

Silence. He was pulled a little higher so that his head and neck were in the air.

“Well?”

He spat out a mouthful of water and tried to talk. It’d been a while since he’d had to use his lungs.

“I am growing impatient, C-9. What happened between you and-”

“For Pete’s sake, Greg, the boy can’t breathe.”

He snapped around and glared at the doctor who had spoken out, and then stared once more at the Spy.

“You have lungs, boy. Use them.” He twisted the hook sharply and the Spy cried out as pain erupted from the back of his neck. “There they are. Now. What. Happened?”

“N…nothing,” he said between ragged gasps. His neck was on fire.

“Interesting. The security feed tells us differently.” He leaned down close and whispered lowly. “Did you know that he’s had ‘fun’ with every single experiment we’ve done? We let it go because, let’s face it, most of them were doomed from the start. We saw no harm in entertaining his sick fantasies. But you are different. You are indispensible. Do you understand?” Another sharp twist, this one smaller.

“Nuh…yeh…whah?” The doctor had come on to him. What was there to understand? It wasn’t his fault.

The head doctor sighed, wrapped his hand (his very large) hand around the back of the Spy’s entire neck, and hauled him entirely out of the water. He turned to face the group of doctors.

“If any one of you tries to solicit anything from this experiment – and I mean anything- off the books, you will be his next meal. Is that understood?”

There was an immediate, unanimous shaking of heads.

“Now get the hell out of here!”

All but his main assistant – the one that the Spy had dragged into the water his first day- left. The head doctor pointed at the one who had spoken out earlier, and his assistant nodded.

“Do you understand me now?” He asked as he turned the Spy to face him. “I will not hesitate to kill anyone who tries to do anything to you. If they’re sick like Christopher was, I will kill them. If they try to help you escape, I will kill them. If they try to give you food, or clothes, or a blanket to cry into, I. Will. Kill. Them. And then I will punish you. Do you understand me now?”

He nodded frantically.

“Good.”

The doctor dropped him on the concrete floor and walked out. The doctor who had spoken out was dragged in by two orderlies, killed on the spot, stripped, and thrown into the pool, still bleeding. The doctor stared at the Spy until he crawled back into the pool and then left without a word.

Well, this was…grisly. He approached the body and hovered just under it in the water, trying to avoid the spreading cloud of red.

Well, it’s not like I’ll be able to avoid it, he thought to himself before moving closer to the body. He tasted the blood in the water and nearly gagged. It stung his eyes and made it hard to breathe. Before long he had to surface and, after a few awkward moments, switch to using his lungs.

Head out of the water, he could only stare at the corpse. How does one go about ripping apart a human body? He looked at his nails, which hadn’t been trimmed in weeks. Whatever they’d done to him, it hadn’t included super long, sharp claws. And his teeth were the same teeth he’d had for the past ten years. So what now?

He tentatively reached up and gripped an arm with two of his tentacles. The rest of them came up and started wrapping around the rest of the body of their own accord. He pulled with them. The arm pulled away with surprising ease.

“Whoa.”

He was startled by his own, scratchy voice in the otherwise mostly silent room. He ducked down, nose below the water, and looked around. Nobody was around to hear him.

He rose again and took the fleshy arm in his hand. This guy hadn’t exactly been a bodybuilder, but he wasn’t fat either. He brought the torn, bloody shoulder to his mouth and paused.

“God forgive me,” he muttered as he tore into the arm.


Hours later he was huddled on the bottom of the pool, lethargic and fading in and out of consciousness. Three bites. Three bites had filled him up, and he almost couldn’t hold them down. But, despite the intense moral dilemma, he felt better for the food in his stomach.

He was stirred from his sleep by a prodding hook. Before it was able to actually snag the loop, he woke and rose to the surface on his own. He stared, bleary-eyed and still submerged up to mid-nose, at the head doctor

“I see you have eaten something. Good for you. Let’s hope you make this a habit.” He stepped back and nodded to the other doctor. The other doctor called two orderlies over and pointed to the body in the pool. It was fished out and carried off. The entire time, the Spy and the doctor faced off in quite an intense staring contest. The Spy lost when he started falling asleep again.

Which was just what the doctor wanted. What the Spy hadn’t noticed were the four orderlies on the side of the pool with a net and another hook. They threw it over him, pulled it closed, and dragged him out.

“Terribly sorry,” the head doctor said mockingly. “But we need to drain your pool. Usually we remove the blood from your ‘meals,’ but you were so impatient for your food that we didn’t have time.”
A bed was wheeled over and the orderlies managed to get the Spy, squirming and clawing, strapped to it. He was able to snag one of the tall, hulking men with a tentacle and promptly snapped his femur in half. He screamed and fell into the pool, which, after a few moments, made him scream more. One orderly and the head doctor wheeled the Spy out.

“You will be punished for that.”

And indeed he was.

Not ten minutes later, still squirming and fighting with the newfound energy from his ‘meal,’ he was wheeled into the same examination room that he had ‘gotten to know’ the long-deceased doctor in. The head doctor wasted no time in placing a metal clamp on the ring in the back of the Spy’s neck. He went to the small device that generated the electricity and sent a small shock over.

Every one of the Spy’s tentacles curled inwards and he arched his back against the restraints for a moment before collapsing and panting.

“Sensitive, are we? This is a rather low setting, so you know.” He turned it down further and sent another shock. This time the tentacles went straight out. He tilted his head back, grit his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut before once again collapsing.

“Hm.” The doctor wrote something down on his clipboard and then turned the power all the way up.

“N-no, oh, please no-”

He was cut off by his own scream. He arched against the restraints again and the tentacles began twisting against each other and knotting. It was a brief shock, but it felt like it lasted forever. Like the last two times, he collapsed, panting. This time his breaths were uneven and marked with a high, distressed sound with every gasp.

“Hmm. Very good.” He crossed his legs, shuffled the papers on his clipboard, and turned the settings down again. “Now. What is your name?”

“Mm…mah…Marcel-AH!” He bucked and fell as the shock ran through him and left.

“I said, what is your name?”

“M…” No. No he couldn’t say that, he’d get shocked. “C…Cel…cer…ceph…” Another shock. “Ah, oh God, please, I, I don’t remember-AH!” And another. “C! C-something please, C-9. Nine. Nine? C-9. It’s all I remember you telling me.” He braced for another shock.

“Coleoidea. Named for all soft-bodied, shell-less cephalopods. You are Coleoidea-nine.”

“Coleoidea-Nine. My name is Coleoidea-Nine.” He repeated it, mindlessly, letting it roll off his lips. Anything to avoid being shocked. He’d do anything to avoid that terrible, terrible feeling.

“Very good.” He wrote something down. “Now, what’s my name?”

Oh shit. Had he said that? Had he ever said that? Was this a trick question?

“I can’t remember.”

Shock.

Once the echoes of his scream died off, the doctor went on.

“I never told it to you. There is no reason for you not to remember. You lied to me. Never lie to me.”

“Yessir. I won’t lie to you.”

“Who won’t lie to whom?”

“I…Coleoidea-Nine will not lie to you.”

“And who am I?”

“I don’t know. You never told me.”

Shock.

“I am your creator. I am your master. I am the only person who matters in your life. Now, who won’t lie to whom?”
He was shaking and, despite all efforts to stop it, he could feel a hot, fat tear rolling down each cheek.

“I, Coleoidea-Nine, will not lie to you, my creator, my master, and the only person who matters in my life.”

“Very good. But far too long. From here out you are C-9 and I am Doctor Lee. Now, who won’t lie to whom?”

“I, Col-” Shock. “I, C-9, will not lie to you-” Shock. “Will not lie-” Shock. “I, C-9, will not lie to Doctor Lee.”

“Very good. Once more, who won’t lie to whom?”


Four months had gone by since first waking up in the ‘hospital.’ C-9 woke up at the bottom of his pool on the first morning of the fifth month and stared at the surface. His territory had been invaded.

He could hear them walking above, could feel the vibrations in the water and the walls of the pool. He rose slowly, gradually, following the footsteps, and finally peeked out once he was at the surface.

“Good morning, C-9,” Doctor Lee said as he walked around the pool, headed for the hook.

C-9 surfaced, switched over to air breathing, and yawned.

“Good morning, Doctor Lee.” He watched the hand go for the hook and shied away. “I am already up,” he said as he backed further into the middle of the pool. About a month into his time he had learned that they might be able to see him best when he was in the middle of the pool, but they couldn’t reach him when he went to the bottom.

“I know.” He looked the hook over, looked at C-9, and adjusted the handle so that it was shorter.

C-9 ducked under once more so that just his eyes were above the water.

“Don’t be childish, C-9. If I was going to do something to you, I would have called you over already. Go back to sleep.”

With that, Doctor Lee left, hook in hand. C-9 was a bit puzzled, but his curiosity was minimal. The Doctor told him to go back to sleep, and he was still sleepy, so go back to sleep he did.

Until he felt the footsteps of several orderlies and heard the splash of something – no, several somethings – entering the water. His water. He looked up at the three squirming, twisting, dark hulks and advanced upon them.

“C-9, surface, now!”

He had been about to grab one of the intruders when he heard the command. He surfaced immediately, but apparently not immediately enough. The moment his head was above the water, he shook it and backed away from the surface.

The Doctor had a remote in his hand with one button and one knob. The knob was turned to a low setting. He hit the button once. C-9 seized and gasped for a moment before lowering once more so that only his eyes showed above the surface and glaring up at the Doctor, body still twitching.

“When I tell you to, not on your own time,” the Doctor said. He was grumpy this morning. C-9 made note.

“These are your live prey,” he said, one hand pointing to the three still-squirming bodies (which now, he saw, were in burlap sacks and quickly sinking to the bottom). “You will dispatch of all three of them within one minute.” He held up a timer. “Your time starts now.” He clicked a button and the minute started.

One minute? C-9 dived under. One minute wasn’t enough. He ripped open one bag to find a small man with SCUBA gear and a pistol. The man seemed surprised – just what C-9 needed. In that moment of panic on the man’s part, he wrapped two of his tentacles around him and squeezed him to death. He opened the second bag. Another man, this one huge, with nothing but two very strong fists. C-9 took a punch to the gut, unraveled the now-dead other man, and wrapped his entire lower half around the larger man’s arms and chest. He leaned forward with his mouth and utilised the teeth that the Doctor had specially made for him. In an instant the man’s jugular was wide open and releasing its contents into the pool. He swam through the cloud to the third bag and simply enveloped and crushed it without opening it. He held tight until the squirming stopped and he could neither feel nor hear any pulse but his own.

He rose, face red with both the dead man’s blood and a flush of excitement. He stared at the Doctor, who stared back with a frown. Shit. It had been over a minute. He backed away to the middle of the pool and ducked down a bit.

“Stop that nonsense,” Doctor Lee barked. C-9 hesitantly came forward. Doctor Lee showed him the stop watch. 58 seconds.

“Congratulations. You will be rejoining your team at the BLU base tomorrow morning.”

Rejoining? But he’d never been there before.

oh my goddd

this is so fucking awesome, NEVER STOP

I am enjoying this ALOT!! Please keep going!!!

SECONDING ALL OF THE ABOVE! Creepy surgical/medical torture is one of my favorite subjects... and you write it so very very well!

Thankya very much! I'm working on part V at the moment, and should have it up before I hit the hay. If anyone has anything they want to see, any suggestions, I'd gladly take them all into consideration.

This is it for today. G'night folks. I promise smut tomorrow.
-----

V

Two BLU medics waited by the back gate. Everyone else was either on patrol or watching the Miss Universe pageant on TV.

They were waiting for a delivery.

The rest of the base knew it as the regular supply run. They’d be getting food, medical supplies, perhaps a few porno mags if the delivery guy was nice enough. The Medics knew it as the day they got their Spy back.

Of course, they were the only ones who knew about the Spy. It wouldn’t do if the entire base was told. They wouldn’t go along with it. They would question it and call headquarters and that would not do at all.

”He’s late,” the younger Medic said. He was grumpy and tired from setting up the Spy’s new ‘home.’

”And you are impatient.

There were a few moments of awkward shuffling and then the sound of a vehicle approaching. They watched the pickup until it stopped, not too far from them, and then went forward to speak with the driver.

“Hey there, boys,” the driver said, chipper as ever. He handed over a clipboard and then started pulling crates out of the back of the truck. “One-two-THREE sacks of potatoes, fifty pound each, one-two-three-four-FIVE sacks of onions, ten pound each, one-two-three-four…” He continued rattling off the numbers as he pulled the contents off the truck. The younger Medic was watching the clipboard and checking them off. The older Medic was watching the largest crate, furthest in the back.
“Aaaand here we are, last but not least,” he said as he pushed the big crate to the edge, “one live sow. I’mma’ need some help with this’n.” He hopped off and pulled at the crate while the younger Medic set down the board and stepped forward to help. They gently pulled the crate to the ground and dusted their hands off.

The driver picked up the clipboard, looked it over, signed it, waited for the younger Medic to sign it, and then waved as he got back into the truck and drove off.

The older Medic thumped the side of the crate a few times. Something inside stirred, but otherwise made no sound.

“He is well trained,” he said as he pointed to the dolly cart. The younger Medic immediately went to it, wheeled it over, and shoved it under the crate. The both of them piled boxes of medical supplies on top of the crate and then started wheeling it back into the base.

“Heavy, Demo, come bring the food in,” the younger Medic shouted as they passed what they called the living room. The two hopped to their feet (well, hopped isn’t exactly a term that one can apply to a Heavy, but it was much more lively than his usual movements) and gladly went about their assigned task.

“What’s in crate?” The other Heavy asked with a frown as he pointed to the giant wooden box.

“One of the other forts closed down and they’re giving us their supplies,” the older Medic immediately said. It wasn’t entirely a lie – a fort had closed down. It had been burned down.

The Heavy nodded and went back to the TV. The Medics made their way to the infirmary.

The infirmary was below the base, a brightly-lit, sterile room with white floors and walls and ceilings. Luckily for them, the way down was a series of ramps rather than stairs. But underneath the infirmary was where they wanted to go, and that required descending stairs.

Before they went anywhere, the two locked the door to the main room and opened the secret door that went below the base. From there, as gentle as possible, the pulled the dolly down the stairs. They ended in waterways that ran under the bases, and so were slick with slime and mold. A few times the younger Medic slipped and slammed his shins on the stairs. Each time he nearly erupted in a bout of cursing, but the older Medic had made it very clear earlier that morning that they were never to show anything but cold, indifferent superiority to this creature.

Once at the bottom, the older Medic knocked on the wood a few times, this time in a coded series. After a three-second pause, the top was opened by a latch operated from the inside, and a very tired-looking and familiar face peeked out.

The older Medic took a piece of paper out of his coat pocket.

“You are C-9?”

“Yes.”

“I am your commanding Medic. This is my assistant. We are the only people you need to know. What are your instructions?”

“To obey my commanding Medics. To kill any and all REDs that dare trespass in my waters. To never be seen by any BLUs that are not my commanding Medics.” His voice was tired and cracking, but his eyes were wide and trained on the two BLUs.

“Very good. Your uniform?”

“I was told that you would have it for me.”

The younger Medic frowned and glanced at his superior, who didn’t look.

“Yes, well there must have been some miscommunication. We will have your uniform for you soon. Until then you are not to leave the area. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He shivered once, but otherwise kept watching the BLU’s.

“Our rules to you are such. Please note them and do not forget.” C-9 nodded. “Number one: these stairs are the closest you will get to our base when you do not have a cloak or disguise. The door up these stairs leads to our infirmary. If you are ever injured, you may, when cloaked, approach the door. There are two lights outside the door. One is red, the other is blue. If the blue light is on, you may knock on the door and one of us will tend to you. If the red light is on, either our other Medic is in or we are tending to a patient. You must never knock when the red light is on. Do you understand me?”

C-9 nodded again.

“Good. Now follow us.”

They trudged through the tunnels, slowly so that C-9 could adjust to the water temperature (it was much colder than he was used to) and allow him to keep up, as the water was only an inch deep.

They walked around for a while, going through every tunnel that ran under their base, stopping at every round door but opening none of them, until they were back by the stairs.

“These areas that we have brought you through,” the older Medic said, “are your territory for now. You will not leave them. It will be boring until we get your uniform, but it should give you ample time to memorise the tunnels. If you should hear anyone coming through, and if they are not myself or my assistant, then you are to kill them. Is that understood?”

C-9 paused.

“What if it’s a BLU?”

“None of my teammates have any reason to be down here. I promise you that it will not be a BLU.”

C-9 frowned, but hesitantly nodded.

“Good. Now go sleep. You need it. We will bring you food tonight.”


The ride had been horrible. First he was hauled out of the pool and bundled in wet towels and other towels wrapped in ice. Then he was placed inside a waterproof box, which was put inside a wooden crate. He was told to memorise a series of knocks, which would be the passcode that it was safe to exit. Then the box was shut and he had to lock it from the inside. They gave him no food (if anyone smelled it, they would try to open the box) and was told to try not to move around too much, and certainly not to make any noise.

Then there came the noises. His hearing was spectacular, but several layers of damps towels, ice, and wood made everything going on outside just out of his comprehension. It was beyond frustrating.

And then there were the bumps. Did nobody know that he was in there? The entire truck ride over had been a terrifying experience. By then the ice, which had been slowing his heartbeat and keeping him calm, had melted and he could feel the sun heating his box. What type of person delivered something – something alive – in an uncovered vehicle? In the heat? The heat quickly dried his towels, even the innermost, wettest ones that had been against him the entire time. And then he started to get dry, and so very tired.

When they started going down the stairs, he almost lost it. Training or no training, they hadn’t prepared him for that. Not only was the bouncing and jostling and dryness unbearable, but he could smell the water. The secret knock had come just in time.

Now he was alone, tired, in unfamiliar, odd-smelling, cold territory, and hungry. The first thing he did was to go back to the box and drag it with him towards an area that he’d seen earlier that looked good for a bed.

Usually he would just sleep below the surface, one tentacle anchored to something to make sure he didn’t drift off in the artificial currents of the pool. But here was different. Most of the water was less than a foot deep, and that which was deep – sometimes upwards thirty feet, by the looks of it – was in a spot that was either impossibly narrow or far too close to the round doors that he’d been warned to stay away from. And besides, deep water was cold. This place was already cold enough.

He pulled the crate over to a square surface just below a narrow, circular opening that went up a long ways. There was metal embedded in it…a ladder? He didn’t pay it much attention, in any event. He liked the location because it was away from any of the lights that ran in long thin strips along the ceiling, and the water around it was a good foot deep, which meant that he could comfortably rest his lower half in the water while he slept.

He dumped the towels onto the platform and pulled them all into the water. Once they were all thoroughly wet, he piled them up on the edge of the concrete, wrapped his arms around them, rest his head on them, and promptly fell asleep.


Something wasn’t right.

“A pig?”

The young Medic stared at the page in disbelief. They never got pigs. The Spy frowned and pulled the sheet away to look at himself.

“Didn’t one of the other, more well-off forts burn down? Some livestock survived, I believe.”

“Hm. Maybe.” He scratched his head and went about peeling a potato.

“Aw hell,” the befreckled Scout said as he passed the kitchen. “You’re on duty tonight? Don’t make string beans, okay? I hate them.”

“Ve didn’t get string beans today,” he said as he finished the potato and picked up another one. “Zey sent us a pig instead.”

The scout perked up.

“A pig? Like, a whole freaking pig? Well where is it?” He looked around and waved down the hall. “’ey Tiny, you seen a pig?”

The Heavy frowned and shrugged.

“I am not tiny. You are tiny. And I see no pig today. Except other Heavy. He had more breakfast than me and now I am hungry. I should not be hungry yet.”

He turned, suddenly in a bad mood, and continued on his way, presumably to get Sasha, since the patrols were supposed to switch out soon.

“Well fine. Imma’ see if I can’t find me that pig. I’ve been dying for some bacon.”

With that the Scout was off, leaving the Spy and Medic to wonder where that pig had gone off to.


Someone was in his tunnels. C-9 opened his eyes and slowly turned his head. They weren’t that far off. He slowly pushed himself up and huddled in the darkest corner of the water. He wasn’t even close to being covered, but, dark as it was, he wouldn’t be seen.

Hopefully.

The footsteps grew closer. He tensed. They were just around the corner. He could smell their unease.

“C-9?”

He had been just about to strike. It was his commanding Medic’s assistant, carrying an odd-smelling sack. He slithered forth into the furthest edge of the light and looked up at the Medic. The older man jumped.

“Oh. There you are. So…this is home, then?” He looked at the pile of towels, just barely visible. C-9 shrugged and backed up a bit. Yes, it was ‘home,’ and he was very territorial, thank you very much.

“Well…I brought you some food, as promised. They only told us that you ate raw meat, and we’d gotten a few extra chickens in the last delivery, so…” He handed the sack over awkwardly. “Here you go.” He let it fall into C-9’s hands, who looked it over, sniffed it, and then looked up. “Alright then. I must be going.”

“Wait.”

It was a pathetic sound and he knew it. He hadn’t meant it to sound so…lonely. But the Medic stopped and turned around. His eyes went straight to the tentacles and he started unconsciously wringing his hands.

“Yes?”

“I…could you…” He was very well aware of the Medic’s awkward staring, which shifted focus to his mouth as he spoke. He’d been told that they might be afraid of his teeth. They were expecting the tentacles, but not the double-row of sharp, carefully-sculpted, surgically-inserted teeth. “I need your glove,” he said as he watched the Medic’s hands, which stopped wringing.

“My…my glove?”

“For the smell. I almost attacked you because I do not know your smell. I need it.”

The Medic blinked a few times and then hastily removed the rubber glove. He handed it over, flinching as their hands briefly touched, and then headed back the way he came without any further conversation.

C-9 dragged his bounty to the platform. He put the glove aside and stared into the bag. Two chickens, dead but still feathered. It was a chore that took him well over an hour and left him still hungry, but it was worth it. It was enough to quiet his loud beast of a stomach, at least for a while.

Still picking feathers out of his teeth, he sank back down into his shallow semi-pool and pulled the glove over. With his head resting on the towels and eyes closed, he put the glove over his nose and inhaled deep.

Old sweat. New sweat. Blood. Salt. Chicken. Steel. String Beans. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Rust. Gunpowder. Fire. Grease. Heat. And faintly, he detected, as he drifted off to sleep once more, something or someone familiar whose name he forgot or never knew.

You don't need to add smut for me to be anticipating moar (although what I'm thinking it'll be has me very interested).

Mostly this comment is to let you know the pig thing made me laugh my ass off.

Oh man, I absolutely love this. I just feel so sorry for that poor tentaspy.

I didn't generally like Tentaspies, but this story, along with Monster in the Water, makes my opinion of them raise considerably.

Please, continue.

I'm a so-so tentaspy fan, but this story really has me hooked.

Aaah, I love this. Poor C-9!

I am a terrible, terrible human being.

Love, C.

-----

VI

Dinner that night was awkward.

“What do you mean there ain’t no pig?” Scout had nearly screamed. A very hungover and not-too-pleased-to-be-awake Demo shushed him and angrily shoveled away a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

“I mean that we did not get a pig,” the eldest of the Medics said, rather irritated as well. The Scout had been asking all day and everyone was tired of it. Yeah, they all could do with some bacon, maybe some pork roast would be a nice change from the day-in-day-out chicken and “beef” that was sent to them. (At least they knew the chickens were fresh. The beef, not so much.)

“But the invoice says we got a pig!” He said.

“We did not get a pig.”

The Scout pointed his fork over at the other Medic present.

“This sum’bitch signed off that we got a crate with a pig in it. So you two saw a pig. I wanna’ know where that freakin’ pig is.”

“Wait, you signed for the pig?” A Soldier asked as he briefly tilted back his helmet and scratched his forehead. The Scout was nodding fervently. “I thought the kid was just being a dumbass, but if you signed for it-”

The younger Medic opened his mouth to speak, but his superior stood, bringing all eyes to him.

“For the love of God, people. I told you what it was earlier. Medical supplies. The list doesn’t say pig, it says SOW. He signed off on SOW. Surplus of War. Any time a fort closes, its remaining supplies are considered surplus and sent to forts in the area that need it. We got surplus supplies.” He stood and angrily stomped back to the kitchen to dump his plate in the sink.

There was a collective, drawn out “oh” throughout the room.

“Well shit, I wasn’t around when he told you guys it was medical supplies,” the befreckled Scout said as he poked at his string beans (fucking beans he was going to kill that sonovabitch trying to poison him).

“He did mention it,” the present Heavy said as he looked around the table at the other peoples’ plates. He looked at Scout’s, which was still presently loaded with the greens, and then looked at Scout.

“Have at it, Tiny.”

He did, gladly.


“Surplus of var?” The youngest Medic was skeptical. “Forts close all ze time, ve never get extra supplies.” He was lying on the bed next to his Spy, hands behind his head. The younger, French man was half asleep, head and arm resting on his chest.

“’s what zey said,” he said, the tiredness bringing back an old accent that he’d long learned to suppress.

The Medic sighed and brought a hand down to rub the Spy’s back.

“Did anyvun notice you?”

“No.”

“Gut. Gut vurk.” There were a few moments of quiet before he sighed again. The Spy frowned and shifted a bit, having almost been asleep when his makeshift pillow breathed in. “Vhat do you suppose zat zey are up to?”

“’l find out t’morrow ‘f you shut up,” the Spy said as he curled his arm tighter around the Medic. The German chuckled and continued rubbing the Spy’s back until they both fell asleep.



The door to the infirmary was locked, the blue light was on, and two aging Germans stood in the sterile white room and regarded each other.

“So what now?” the younger of the two asked.

“They have to be somewhere. Did we give them to our other Spy?”

“No, he was too short for them. I think that the Engineer said something about boxing them up and throwing them in the supply closet until we get another Spy with the same measurements as him.”

“So why don’t you go get them?”

“They are already suspicious. If someone found me walking through the halls with a box of his clothes-”[i]

[i] “You would tell them that Headquarters sent for them. That he died at the hospital and his parents kindly requested all of his possessions, including all of his clothes and weapons.”

Silence, then a nod.

“I will go get them now.”

The blue light switched to red and the door was unlocked. The younger Medic left for the supply closet and the older one pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket.

“C-9 is trained to kill. While he has been taught to walk on dry land, he his most proficient in the water, and it is suggested that you allow him to familiarize himself with the local waterways before forcing him to do any work that requires him to be on land.

“C-9 is fairly anti-social, disliking any great amount of people, so getting him to do a dry-land mission will be especially…”

Boring. He had no intention of using his new toy on the land. He had their other Spy for that.

At least for now. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take the man’s clumsy lack of finesse. He had definitely heard a cloak going up around the corner at dinner, and while he’d instinctively grabbed for his saw, he had a good idea that it was their own Spy doing the cloaking. He and the other Medic had seemed a bit wary of them lately.

Speaking of the other Medic, he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be around either. He definitely did not approve of their relationship. A fuck buddy now and again was one thing, but how many times now had they been too distracted to notice the sirens going off? Or care? There had been one occasion when the Announcer declared that their intel was taken, and as he ran by the door to their bedroom he heard the young, thick-accented Medic declare that “ze ozers can handle it fine on zeir own.”

That’d sent him into a rage. At least, as much of a rage as he was ever sent into. He kicked the door in, grabbed Spy by the back of his neck, pulled him off of the Medic’s massive erection, and threw him out the door.

“Get up,” he had said in the calmest, scariest voice that the young Medic had ever heard. “You did not earn a victory fuck, so get up and work. After, you may do what you want. But right now is work time.”

And then he’d left without another word.

“Hello?”

He blinked a few times and looked over. His assistant was back, box in his arms. He placed it on the bench and locked the door.

“Well?”

“No problems. Nobody was around to ask.

“Very good.”

They descended into the darkness of the back tunnels.


Someone was in his tunnels. No, two someones were in his tunnels. They were a good ways off though, so he took the time to stretch, yawn, and push the towels into the back corner where they wouldn’t be noticed.

He waited first, sampling the air for any familiar smells. Ah yes, the nervous one was here. Which meant that the other one was probably his master.

They were growing closer.

“Over here.”

Yes, they were coming for him. For a brief moment there was the panic that always came when a doctor was coming to ‘visit’ him, and then he pushed himself out to the edge of the light. They stopped a good twenty feet away before the older, stronger, much scarier of the two pushed past his assistant and advanced further.

“Good evening, C-9.”

“Good evening, sir.”

“We have your uniform for you. The pants and shoes are useless, but you will dress yourself in everything else every single day. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

The younger Medic walked forward and put the box on the platform. C-9 felt a low growl rising up at the invasion of his territory, but it was suppressed and he merely stared until the man was back with the other Medic.

“Very good. Do you know how to put them on?”

C-9 blinked and moved over to the box. He inspected its contents, sniffed them, paused as a wave of wordless, blank nostalgia washed over him, and then shook his head.

“Fine. My assistant will help you, then, this first time. Afterwards you will be expected to do it on your own.” C-9 and the other Medic both looked like they’d just swallowed something foul. He pretended not to notice, looked around, caught sight of the glove on the platform, and frowned. “Where did you get that?”

“Oh, I gave it to him,” his assistant immediately said. C-9 nodded and shrunk down a bit. The older Medic frowned again and looked at his assistant.

“You do not give him anything unless I tell you to, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned to C-9 and cleared his throat.

“If you ask something of him, you do not take it until he has come to see me first. Understood?”

He nodded and shrank down further.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes, Doctor L- Yes, sir.”

Both Medics exchanged glances and nodded.

“Good night then. I will see you in the morning.” He turned and both the other Medic and C-9 watched until they heard the door slam shut above them.

“Well then,” the Medic said awkwardly as he advanced to the platform again. C-9 growled this time and backed up further into the water. The Medic paused. “Stop that.”

He stopped. He was trained to obey the Medic, fearful, anxious, mindless idiot or not. It didn’t stop him from glaring at him as he rifled through the box and pulled out a series of garments.

“Alright. Come here.”

He came.

“This is an Oxford shirt.”


The back door opened and the elder of the Medics looked up from the diagram that was spread out on the examination table. His assistant walked in and shut the door.

“You are wet.”

He looked down at himself.

“Yes, well it’s what happens when you are trying to explain to a grumpy …Tentaspy how to put on a three-piece suit.”

The older Medic smiled and the younger one pulled over a chair. He started taking off his boots, which he’d somehow gotten water into.

“What’s that?” He asked as he looked up at the table.

“A physical diagram of our new friend.” He smiled again. “Did you notice anything unusual when you were down there, forcing him to be a polite gentleman?”

“Aside from the tentacles? And the teeth? And the fact that he’s long overdue for a manicure? No, nothing at all. Why?”

He stood and took off his sopping trousers. The other Medic turned the diagram around and pointed to a combination photograph and drawing of C-9’s underside. For a few moments there was incomprehension. Then he blushed, looked down at the pants on the floor, and blushed harder.

“Your timing could have been better.”

“No it couldn’t,” he replied with a genuine laugh. The other Medic, who’d been rifling through his drawer for a change of pants (they kept them for the worst nights, when people couldn’t help but bleed all over everything) paused. He’d never heard that sound come out of the other’s mouth before.

“You really like this, don’t you?”

“Hm?” He gave him an odd look and then sighed. “Things have been growing stale here. I am sick of losing day in and day out. I am sick of not having control over that idiot Spy and child of a Medic. This is new. And fun. We might actually win. Think about that.”

The younger Medic made a non-committal noise and pulled up his pants. He tossed his boots out the back door to dry and found another pair.

“So now what?” He asked as he laced up the new pair.

“Tomorrow we let him out.” He was still poring over the papers. “What’s this…did you know that he is controlled by electric shock?” he asked with a frown. “’If he ever refuses to behave, usually you just need to show him the control and he’ll obey. If that does not work, a small shock is usually enough to make him behave. It also works well to knock him out if ever you run out of the proper drugs. But be warned: too many high-powered shocks may alter his brain function, most notably his memory and mood.’”

The Medics looked at each other.

“I never saw a remote,” the younger one said as he stood again and brushed his coat with his hands.

“Nor did I.”

“The crate?”

“Go find it. Right now.”

He continued rifling through the papers while his assistant ran down the back stairway. About half a minute later he found out that yes, the remote had indeed been placed in the crate with the subject, though C-9 was left unaware for hopefully obvious reasons.



The smell of the suit and balaclava was driving him nuts. It was familiar, like an old, dear friend, yet every time he tried to put a face or a name to it he drew a blank. It was like mentally tripping and doing a faceplant. It was frustrating.

He sat on the edge of the platform, tentacles lumped in a mass in the water, curling and flexing themselves along with his fingers. Every time he balled his fists he bared his teeth. His eyes were focused on something far away.

The smell was going to drive him up the everloving wall. Either he had to remember or he had to get rid of it. He wasn’t sure which was worse – despite the frustration, there was something calming about the familiarity of it that he enjoyed. But it was threatening to make him crazy, and at the very least, if he got rid of it, he wouldn’t have to worry about that.

He heard the door open and suddenly it was the last thing on his mind. He sank down and listened. He knew that gait and that fearful smell. He advanced through the tunnels, hoping to catch the assistant Medic before he got too close to his territory.

“Oh. C-9. You’re…here.” He seemed a bit startled to see the half-man in the light. “Where is the crate that you came in?”

C-9 paused.

“I will get it.”

The Medic opened his mouth to say that no, he should probably come along. He was suspicious. Did C-9 know about the control? But then again, he didn’t exactly want to try invading the thing’s territory again, so he let him shuffle off. He followed a bit so that he wouldn’t have to drag it so far, and then came a bit closer when he saw him pulling it off the platform.

“Here,” he said as he pushed the crate over. The Medic looked inside. It was two boxes, a rough wooden one on the outside and a laminated, heavier wooden one inside. He tipped it over and the inner one started sliding out.

“Pull these apart for me,” he ordered. He stepped back and immediately C-9 looked the two crates over. He wrapped several tentacles around the outer box, then adhered several others on the inside of the inner one. Quickly and with seemingly no difficultly, he had the two heavy boxes pulled apart. And there, just as he’d hoped, on the bottom of the outer box, was a third, small, metal box.

“There we are.” He reached in, snagged it, opened it, and pulled out the control. Immediately C-9 froze and stared.

“I didn’t know,” he said, voice cracking. He shook his head and backed away. “Please, I didn’t know it was there. Please, please, please don’t. No, no, no, no, no, oh, please don’t.” He backed away further, suddenly wishing more than anything to be at the bottom of his pool where no hooks or hands could reach him.

The Medic looked over. Jee-zus, they messed him up bad. What did they do to him? He stepped forward a bit. C-9 was pressed to a back wall, tentacles crawling every which way, trying to get out. In that moment he caught sight of the orifice that had made him blush earlier. They were covered again in an instant as the writing mass of limbs kept moving.

“Yeah…no. You didn’t do anything.” The words only seemed to confuse C-9, who looked on the verge of tears. He held up the control and waved it. “I am not going to shock you, I promise.”

Once again, he was apparently sending mixed signals, because despite the reassurance that he wasn’t going to do anything, C-9 kept babbling, asking him not to shock him.

“Alright then…good night…” He looked at the tentacles again, caught another glimpse of its center, blushed, and headed back for the infirmary.



Only one the Medic was gone and out of sight and smell and hearing did C-9 calm down. He was cold and tired and not wet enough and frustrated before the damn Medic had come down for his little…toy. Now. Now he was frightened. He had associated the shocks with Doctor Lee. Nobody else ever shocked him. But now, apparently anyone could. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.

He lashed out at a nearby wall, dragging his nails down it and wrapping his tentacles around the smaller, dribbling pipes that were jutting out of it. Of course they refused to budge, but just having something to squeeze helped vent his frustration.

He held on tight for a while, once more balling his hands into fists and baring his teeth, then relaxing, with every slow heartbeat. Eventually he calmed down and sank back into the shallow water, tired and achy. He dragged his pile of towels over, added one of the spare shirts from the box, and wrapped his arms around it.

Where do I know that smell?



Where do I know that smell?

He lifted his head. The assistant Medic was coming down again. How many times was this now? Couldn’t they just let him sleep?

He put his head down. He’d sleep anyways. But that smell. The Medic was drunk. He recognised that odor, the same one that Doctor Lee had on him the nights that he’d dragged him out of the pool and just pet him for hours. One or two times it got bad. He’d go down into the pool, clothes and all, and “fight.” It was his term for when he couldn’t help but wrap his tentacles around him and squeeze while something – a finger or two, usually – went right up the middle of him. The next morning he would shock him repeatedly in front of the other doctors, telling him that the security feed had seen him pull him into the water, that everyone knew that he had tried to drag him down and kill him. But the fact that he didn’t kill him was sign of progress, and he was a good boy for not killing him.

He shuddered and curled up tighter. He hated that smell. And it was growing closer. He turned around to face the wall and pretended that he didn’t notice the stumbling drunk headed for his territory.

“Ey. Spy. Spyguy. Tentaclespy. You. C’mere.”

Oh, he wasn’t drunk. He was tanked. He curled up even tighter and pulled a few of the towels over his ears. He didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say. He wanted him to be gone.

“I said c’mere!”

The Medic face-planted into the waters right next to him and got to his knees. He grabbed C-9 by the arm and dragged him over. He hissed and tried to pull away, but instantly froze the moment he saw the control in the Medic’s hands.

“Thas’right,” he said with a grin. “I got it. You gotta’ do what I say. ‘n right now I’m hot. ‘m…really hot.” He started pulling off his night shirt. “Help me get this off.”

C-9 shivered. The Medic didn’t just smell like alcohol. He smelled like ‘fighting.’ Like he was ready for it right then and there. He paused for a moment, and then yelped as the Medic pushed the button on the control. It was a low shock, but there had been no warning.

“I said help me.”

So he did. Shivering and on the verge of tears, he lifted the shirt away from the Medic and balled it up nervously in his hands.

“Now you.” The Medic leaned forward and all but ripped the waistcoat off of C-9. Buttons flew and he cackled. “Whoops. Too hard.” He pushed the vest aside and started fumbling with the buttons. C-9 reached up to help, breaths catching in his throat, but the Medic’s hands pushed his away. “ Tha’s not how it works.” He got the shirt off and then just stared for a while.

“Turn around.”

Still shaking, he turned.

“They did a damn fine job, Spy. Did’joo know that? Damn fine. No seams or anything. Just…you. ‘n them.” He pointed at the tentacles. “’n now me. Less put’m all together, huh?” He grinned and laughed like an idiot.

C-9 shook his head and shrunk down.

“Please don’t.” It was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. He had to ask. On more than one occasion it has stopped Doctor Lee. The Medic just blinked, zapped him again, and advanced further.

“You don’t tell me what t’do, boy. I tell you what to do. Now.” He pulled his pajama bottoms down. “D’you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen m’wife?” He suddenly looked both sad and angry. “How long’s been since I’ve fucked?” C-9 blinked. “DO YOU?” He shrunk back and shook his head. “Years. These faggots all think it’s fine to jerk each other off or treat each other’s asses like the inside of a prostitute’s crotch. But not me! I have a wife!” He grabbed C-9 by the shoulders and forced him down so that he was entirely submerged. He immediately switched to breathing the water and gasped it in.

“But you,” the Medic went on, suddenly calmed. “You aren’t a man anymore. ‘m not some homo. Can’t be a homo if yer fucking something that isn’t a man.” He pressed himself against the ball off tentacles that twitched below him. His hands let up and he just straddled C-9. He picked up the control again and sent a single small shock to the creature below him. He jerked and twitched, tentacles unraveling themselves and then balling up tighter.

“Open them,” he ordered as he sent another small shock. Once again they opened and then balled right back up. He frowned, turned the power up to medium, and hit him again.

This time he thrashed, coming part way out of the water, gasping for the air that he couldn’t breathe just yet. He collapsed after a few more seconds, tentacles once more balling up of their own accord.

The Medic punched him in the stomach.

“Fucking woman, open your legs!” he screamed. He jacked the power up to maximum, held the button down for a full three seconds, and then put it aside. C-9 screamed in the water and twitched, tentacles going everywhere, before collapsing once more in a twitching but otherwise mostly relaxed heap. The Medic parted his tentacles easily.

“Good Spy. Good b…good C-9. Not a boy. Not a man. Nothing. A nothing.” He pet the parted tentacles for a bit and then reached up and grabbed him by the hair. He gasped a bit before switching to using his lungs, then continued gasping and whining, close to blacking out. The Medic roughly flipped him over, pressed his face to the pile of towels on the platform, and proceeded to fuck him.

He was out for most of it. Almost immediately after being penetrated, he moaned, shuddered, came, and faded out. As he fell into the darkness, twitching with his face pressed into his own balled up waistcoat in the pile of towels, he inhaled deeply and frowned.

It’s me. It’s me. It smells just like how I did before-

Seriously. Please don't kill me. Brother's gotta eat somehow.

---

VII

“SOW is bullshit,” the befreckled Scout whispered to his twin. They were watching TV, sitting on a few folding chairs while Spy and Medic cuddled on the couch. It was sickening.

“Don’t I know it? Medical supplies my ass. There was a pig. There IS a pig. And those assholes have it somewhere.”

“Tiny said he saw the two geezers wheeling a BIG crate down to the infirmary.”

The paler of the two’s eyes went wide.

“D’you think they’re doing experiments on it? Like, some sick, twisted shit like all the rumours are talking about?”

“Maybe,” his twin said as the ducked their heads closer together.

“Think it’s still salvageable for bacon?”

“Shit, I’m not eating any freak bacon.”

“What if it’s not a freak yet? Like, a normal pig? It’s only been here since this morning. That can’t be enough time to do stuff to it.”

They looked over at the Medic and Spy, who had stopped cuddling and were watching them with amused looks.

“What’s your problem? You fags never heard of a private talk before?”

“Quiet, boy,” the Spy said with a frown. “We were just thinking that perhaps we’d like to accompany you on this ‘pig hunt’ of yours.”

The Scouts looked at each other and shrugged.

“Sure. But we get to choose who gets what part. I want the bacon part,” the befreckled Scout said as they both stood.

“No, I want the bacon part,” his brother said as he shoved him.

“Well if you find it first, you can choose.”

There was a brief moment of stillness and then the two exploded towards the infirmary.

The Medic and the Spy sighed.

“This will be hard with the two of them acting like that,” the Medic said as he followed at a much calmer pace.

“Or perhaps easier,” the Spy said as he looped an elbow around the Medic’s. “They are good distractions.”



He awoke cold, shaking, and with the biggest headache he’d ever known.

But there was also his name.

“Marcel,” he said aloud, listening to the word echo through the tunnels. He twitched involuntarily, the resonance of an old shock running through him. “No. Coleoidea-nine.” He relaxed, then shook his head. “My name is Marcel.” Once again, the twitching.

He grabbed the nearest article of clothing – the waistcoat that was now missing buttons- and brought it to his face, inhaling deeply. Nicotine, blood, brandy, gunpowder, cologne, various spices… had he been a cook? The image of many boring afternoons spent bent over a stove flashed through his mind. Yes, he’d been the regular cook. He let the memory wash over him and he inhaled deeply.

There were other people there. A Medic – the head Medic, plus traces of two others. One he knew. The other he didn’t. He inhaled again. Someone else. Familiar, but faint. He inhaled again, but got nothing.

This was even more frustrating than not knowing why it was familiar. He knew his name, that he was a cook, that things used to be different, that he used to be different, but that was all. There were no fuzzy memories, no faint hints of something that is no longer there. It was blank, and he was now aware of the blankness where before he only knew the hospital.

He was trying to pick at that blank wall in his mind (it was cracked, for sure) when he heard and felt someone entering his tunnels. Well it’s about damn time, he thought as he pushed himself up. His whole body was sore from the Medic’s…treatments from the night before, and just thinking about it made him shudder. The man had fucked him, passed out, tried to cuddle with him, then got up, shocked him for the hell of it, and stumbled back up the stairs. Now what? Was he back for more or did he have some food for-

It wasn’t the Medic. It was a Medic – he recognised the smell from his waistcoat. But it was someone he’d never met before.

Yes you have, his name is Wil-

“I ain’t seeing no pigs,” someone shouted.

There were four of them.

He growled and started hastily pulling his clothes on. The two lighter, smaller, noiser people were running in the opposite direction of him while two others, the Medic and someone else, were walking slowly towards him.

“If there was a pig down here, we would’ve seen tracks,” the not-Medic mumbled. His voice was familiar. So familiar.

“Ya, but zose two idiots-” They stopped walking and stared at the crate in the middle of the tunnel.

“Vell, it would appear zat zey vere partially right,” he went on, voice a bit hesitant. He was scared. “Zey certainly did bring somesing down here.” He bent down and looked in the box. “And it certainly vas not a pig.”

“Well? What was it?”

The Medic reached in and pulled out a single, short brown hair.

“A…person?” The not-Medic said with a frown. The Medic shrugged and turned the hair around.

“The hell is this mess?” The paler of the Scouts said as he kicked one of the boxes. His twin stood beside him. They had identical frowns.

“We aren’t sure,” the Spy said as he looked at the hair. “This was in the box.”

“So what? Pigs have hair. Pigs have lots of hair. I know. I grew up on a farm.” The befreckled Scout puffed out his chest as though this was a mark of pride for him.

“Maybe,” the Medic said hesitantly as he looked back in the box. “It doesn’t smell like a pig.”

“So they cleaned it up,” the Scout went on, his brother nodding. “Sisters showed pigs all the time, always cleaned them up beforehand. And you don’t feed them for a while either so that they don’t shit their crates. Come on, it’s simple stuff. It’s a pig, and that pig was let out somewhere around here, and I want to know where it is because I want some fuckin’ bacon!”

The Medic tossed the hair aside and shrugged.

“I…I guess that sounds about right. But vy vould zey be hiding a pig?”

“So they can keep all the bacon,” the paler Scout said with a look on his face as though it was obvious.

“I thought bacon was flavoured with-”

“Ah- don’t want to hear it!” Both Scouts said in unison. They trudged back through the tunnels, making one last round. This time they came into the area that C-9 was hiding in. They gave it a cursory glance, didn’t notice the dark mass huddled in the corner, and went on. The Medic and Spy followed.

“What are these towels doing here?” The Spy asked with a frown. “And these clothes. Hey? Are these my suits?” He was shouting. He pulled out a pair of trousers and blinked. “These are Marcel’s.” His voice shook. He dropped the slacks. “What are Marcel’s clothes doing down here?” He looked around and gripped the Medic’s arm.

“We need to go,” he said as he pulled the other man into the lighter tunnel. “Right now. I don’t care what’s going on anymore. Let’s just go”

“Shh, shh, Etienne,” he said as he followed the smaller man out. “Remember, I don’t speak French.”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just…let’s go.”


C-9 was still frozen stiff. So many things…the smell of the other man (Etienne, his name was Etienne) brought back a flood of tangled memories. A lot of them were full of fond feelings and sex and frustration and the awkward realization that he might be a little gay for his fellow Spy.

But then, the way the Medic touched him. And the way he touched the Medic. And the way their bodies moved around each other...

He was jealous. His tentacles curled and he bared his teeth instinctively. The Medic had taken Etienne. His Etienne. He-

“FUCK! Bro! Bro! Where’d you go? FUCK!”

The echoes of the screaming scout – the Freckled one that smelled more confident than the other – bounced through the tunnels.

“HELP!” The boy screamed. “FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, SOMEONE HELP!”

So many things conflicted within the thing that was once Marcel. His training demanded that he stay put and not be seen by the BLU Scout. Yet the part of him that remembered being a BLU Spy wanted to help his teammate.

“I am still a Spy,” he muttered to himself as he cloaked himself. “I can do something.” He pushed through the tunnels towards the source of the voices and smells of terror. The Scout was on his ass, staring down at one of the deeper, narrow, dark pits of water. He heard him coming and got to his feet.

“Hello? Someone? Spy, is that you?”

“Oui,” he said just before diving down. It was something of a tight fit. He fit in fine, but if his shoulders were any wider he wouldn’t have, and if he had to do any maneuvering, it was going to be difficult.

Immediately he could see- or rather feel –why the Scout had sunk. The tunnel was connected to an underground river, and the fast-moving water was creating a sort of suction that had pulled the light boy down. Luckily he had flailed enough that, by the time oxygen deprivation knocked him out, he was wedged against the walls and hadn’t slipped into the actual river itself.

Marcel grabbed the boy with his hands and started crawling back up. The Scout was pale and cold, his heartbeat nonexistent. Still he pulled him up until the both of them were out. He sputtered a bit as he switched to breathing air and then pushed the Scout out onto shallower waters.

“MARK!” The other Scout threw himself onto his brother while C-9 slipped down into the narrow tube again. He let just his eyes peek out, still cloaked, and breathed the water.

“Mark, Mark, c’mon, c’mon. Hey, hey, it’s Jake. C’mon.” He was sobbing. “Mark, you gotta’ breathe.” He started performing clumsy CPR, jabbing at the other boy’s chest. “Medic!” He screamed. “Med-iic!”

A door opened. Someone – two some- THREE someones were pounding down the stairs. All three were Medics, one of them irate, one of them nervous, one of them ashamed and angry and confused.

“MEDIC!” The Scout screamed again. They ran over, stared for a moment, and then the older of the three shoved the boy away so that he could start CPR. His assistant pulled him over where he couldn’t watch.

“What happened?” He asked calmly.

“Hefellintothehole’nIdidn’tknowwhattodoandhejustsankandfellandthentheSpycamebyandpulledhimoutandIdon’tknowwherehewentbut-” But nothing. He passed out on the spot.

“Spy?” The youngest Medic said with a frown. “The Spy vas vith me.”

“He’s delirious,” the other Medic said as he pulled the Scout onto his shoulders.

“And he’ll only be worse when he wakes up,” the eldest said as he stood and pointed at the still-pale, unmoving twin. “He’s gone.” The youngest Medic cleared his throat, bent down, and picked up the dead boy.

“Speaking of the Spy,” the head Medic’s assistant said, “what were you two- you FOUR doing down here?”

“Chasing down ze pig.”

“We already told-”

“Zat is qvite ze crate,” he said as they passed the empty boxes. “Had zome hairs in it. Not a lot of medical supplies come vith hair in it. If it vas a pig, you should have just told us. But it vasn’t a pig, vas it? Ze hairs were too fine. Like a man’s.” He kept walking. “And vhat are Marcel’s clothes doing down here?”

The other two followed in silence. A day. It’d been a day and they’d already screwed it up. Shit.

“I’ve heard ze rumours. I am a Medic too, you know. Ze things zhat ze BLUs want to do vis ze Spies.” He kept trudging on, staring at the ground. “Well I did not sign up for zis. I don’t know vhat’s wrong vith you people, all zis craziness, zese secrets everyvhere. I qvit. I am leaving vis ze next supply truck.”

They continued in silence. The boys were placed in the infirmary, the paler, freckle-less one was covered from head to toe in a blanket after his dog tags were removed, and the head Medic left to find the Spy.

There had been no discussion, but they knew what needed to be done. All three of them. The youngest Medic shook as he looked over the tags.

“Mark O’Le-”

“That is confidential information.”

He nodded and handed the tags over. The Medic pocketed them and sighed.

“There are two ways that this can happen,” he said, calm despite how shaken he was. “I take you down and I kill you. It will be quick and painless. Or I take you down, strip you of your weapons, and let you loose. You may see him. He will be the last thing you see before you die.”

Minutes passed as the young Medic decided his fate.

“I zink I vould like to see him one last time,” he said, voice shaky.

“He is no longer zere, I assure you.”

“I don’t care. I vant to see him.”

The Medic nodded and the other started taking off his jacket. The head Medic walked in just then, took in the scene, and nodded. A very shaken Spy was being dragged along.

“Goodbye, Etienne,” he said as he put his saw and guns on a nearby counter.

“What…what do you mean?” He looked to the other Medics. “What does he mean? Where am I going? Where is HE going?” He was panicked. “Don’t go. Where are you going?”

The Medic, now unarmed and looking rather naked in just his pants and shirt, walked up to the Spy, kissed him square on the mouth, and then turned back to the door without another word. The assistant Medic followed him down.

They heard the Spy’s screams even through the shut door. The once-Medic was struggling not to cry.

“It’ll be quick?” He asked as he stepped into the water at the bottom.

“One can hope,” was the only response he got. They trudged through for a bit until they got to the spot where C-9 had been sleeping the night before. They stopped just short of it and the Medic drew out a pocket knife.

“Your arm.” The younger man offered a shaking limb. He grabbed the wrist and slashed an X in it.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Instructions that came with the beast said that if we offered him any live food, we had to mark it.” He shrugged again and pocketed the knife, then offered a hand. The shaking young man took it and nodded.

“Until we meet again.”

The Medic left and the young, scared man was left alone.



He had sunk deep, almost to the bottom. He considered slipping through to the river and seeing where it would take him, but he was scared to. It was dark – he liked the dark but not THAT much- and it was cold. He seemed to breathe easier in the colder water (when it wasn’t making him sleepy – when it was too cold it only made him sleepy) but that meant that he’d be very awake AND dark. No, the river was a bad idea. So he hovered in the middle, about ten feet down, where he knew that nobody could see him.

That is, until he smelled the blood. It was fresh. Still alive. Warm. He surfaced, cloaked, and looked around. It was near.

C-9 exited the narrow tunnel and entered the larger one, slithering through the shallow water to get around and behind his prey. The water was getting more shallow by the hour. In some areas where the water had been only an inch or so deep, it was completely dry. These proved difficult to move over. He’d been trained to ‘walk,’ but it was awkward and slow work that demanded he moved in jerky ‘steps.’

He managed to cross over these areas, awkward or not, and got behind the slow, bleeding man. He could sense how tired he was, probably from the massive blood loss.

As he got closer, the man stopped. He turned around, looking for something.

“Hello?”

C-9 saw the mark and smiled. The mark meant that he could do whatever he wanted with it. It meant that he didn’t have to cloak himself. He could talk to him if he wanted, or just eat him. It meant that it was his.

“Hello.”

The man turned as C-9 uncloaked himself. They were standing in about half a foot of water, not nearly enough for him to properly swim in, but plenty enough for him to glide around the man.

He backed up. “Marcel,” the man said as he brought a hand to his mouth. He looked like he was about to cry.

C-9 paused at the name. The part of him that was once Marcel screamed that this was his teammate. This was his friend.

“Marcel, it’s me. Oh, oh Got,” he fell to his knees, and then back onto his ass. “God save us all, Marcel, oh, what have they done to you?”

C-9 blinked at the strange language and moved up closer. The man moved back, shaking violently.

Marcel frowned and kept going forward. He had lost all desire to kill this man.

“Who am I?” he asked as a tentacle wrapped around the once-Medic’s left ankle. The man jerked it back, but he only gripped it tighter. “What do you remember of who I was?”

“M…Marcel?” The man seemed confused. “Didn’t they…don’t you…”

“They fucked up.” Another tentacle wound around a thigh. “Who was I?” He pulled the man underneath him and started wrapping his entire lower half around him, leaving his arms free but binding everything else.

His breathing was rapid, panicked.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he whined as he dug his hands in and tried to pull away. C-9 instinctively wrapped himself tighter and growled. He was practically drooling at the scent of the blood.

“Who. Am. I?”

“Y…you are a monster,” he said as he shook his head.

C-9 pulled the man up to face him. He leaned forward and smelled him, like he did with all of his meals. A few tentacles started ripping the clothes off while the others held him tight.

Marcel smelled Etienne on the man. He didn’t need to be a monster to know his once-lover’s cologne.

“How long,” he asked as the mass of tentacles resumed their course, binding him tight, this time pressing his arms to his sides.

“What?”

“How long did he last after I left?” He pressed his face to the man’s shoulder and inhaled deeply.

There were a few moments of nothing but the sound of him breathing before a sort of cold realization dawned on the once-Medic’s face.

“I had to convince him,” he lied. “He missed you. He still does. But I had to convince him to move on. It was killing him.”

Marcel shook as he leaned his mouth against the man’s neck. He smelled just like Etienne. They’d spent a lot of time together.

C-9 shook with anticipation. The blood was there, right beneath the surface. He could smell it. He couldn’t take it any longer.

“Thank you,” Marcel said just before C-9 clamped his mouth around the man’s jugular and ripped it out.

>I am a terrible, terrible human being.

How come? You are giving us something great.

My dear, I adore you. I truly and utterly adore you for this wonderful piece of madness that you bring.

You update so fast I could cry with glee. However, I shall shower you with love instead... err... after I've read the next two chapters you've gifted us with. --Yeah, you update too fast (not that I'm complaining, hell no).

Anyway, this is wonderful. I stayed up all night reading this and nearly cried. You write Spy so sweetly, so monstrous and still so humane; heartbreaking and yet breathtaking all the same. Please keep up the excellent work!

Tentaspy is the rape victim?! This is a twist.
And that last line KILLED ME.
Oh, I love this story so much; the drama, the plot, the division you made between C-9 and Marcel.... I cannot wait for more.

oh my godd D':

This is an AMAZING story, man.

VIII

It was early in the evening. Three bodies were on the dirt in front of the BLU base. Across the waterway that served as no-man’s land, four RED Snipers watched the bodies curiously.

“Where d’ya think they came from?” Spunk asked Shortie. It was clear from there that one Scout was dead. The others, though, were faintly twitching.

“The water?” The other Sniper offered. “Awful wet, the three of them.”

“What d’you think happened?”

“One of the other Snipers?”

“No blood.”

They scanned the area for clues. There were none.

Across the water a groggy, freckly Scout sat up with a massive headach.

“Fuck, man,” he said as he looked around. “The Fuck happened?” He nudged his brother. “Mark. ‘Ey MARK.” He pushed him onto his back and screamed.

The Spy next to him groaned.

“Steve. Steve, oh, shit, Steve, Mark’s…Mark…what the fuck?” His voice was high and panicked. He looked over at the Spy. “Oh SHIT! What the fuck happened? WHAT’S GOING ON? MEDIC! MEDIC! MEEEEDIIIIIC!”

Both Medics ran out, along with a Demo and a Heavy. The Snipers’ eyes were trained through their scopes and everyone else was on high alert inside the base.

“Shit,” the younger Medic said as he rushed up to the dead Scout. There was no pulse checking, no listening for a heartbeat. It was obvious that the boy had been dead since the morning. He took off the boy’s tags (which he had carefully put back around his neck earlier in the morning) and pocketed them, then pulled his own coat off and placed it over the body.

“Jake?” The older Medic crouched by the shaking Scout. “Jake, listen to me. I need to know what happened.”

“I…I don’t…we…he was drowning? Drowning. He fell into the water. He drowned. Shit. He drowned.” He looked over at the Spy. “He tried to help us. I think.” He broke into tears and fell into the Medic’s coat. “Shit, man. He’s my brother. Sonovabitch.” He sobbed and kept cursing into the front of the Medic. The other Medic pulled him away and led him inside.

“…Merde…”

Everyone’s attention snapped to the Spy. The Medic turned to him and pushed him onto his back.

“What happened?” He asked. The Spy coughed up a mixture of blood and water and groaned.

“What wrong with Spy?” The Heavy asked.

“Nearly drowned,” the Medic said as he started pulling the man’s coat off. He felt his pulse at his neck and grunted. “He needs to go to a hospital.” He scooped the Spy up and walked inside with him. The Heavy and the Demo stared at the body of the Scout for a bit before the Demo crossed the boy and picked him up. The Heavy watched, then looked across the water. He frowned up at the Snipers. Even he knew that he was an easy target for them. But it was quiet. Like when they had taken Tall Spy away four months ago. Very quiet.



Most of the BLU base was gathered around the dinner table. This meant that two Medics, a Demo, two Heavies, two Snipers, one Engie, one Pyro, two Soldiers, and the shaking, huddled, mumbling, sobbing creature that was once a Scout named Jake were crowded into the kitchen.

“This morning, one of our men drowned,” the eldest Medic said. He was the only one standing. He was the only one that spoke. “We do not know why. His brother jumped in after him, but to no avail. The Spy jumped in after them both and almost died as well.”

Silence. Shuffling. A cough. A sob.

“It is clear that our waterways are no longer safe. Though we once could pass through them and use them to our advantage-” he looked at the Engie, who’s mouth twitched upwards what was probably the quickest smile ever, “that is no longer an option.”

“Do we know why they drowned?” the newer Soldier asked. The Medic shrugged.

“There are any number of things down there. How many times has a man fallen in to his death? Usually we fish out the bodies, yes, but weapons, various scraps of metal, even things that have been there since long before we came are all sitting at the bottom. I fear that our dearly departed Scout may have snagged himself on something and simply didn’t make it up.”

“Are you sure?” The other Soldier asked. He was unusually tame. The Medic shrugged once more.

“It is the best that I can offer.”

Everyone shuffled a bit. The Medic watched them, took in their expressions carefully. They were sad. Not a single one of them doubted him. They accepted it all as truth.

“I have some more bad news,” he said as he pulled his hands behind his back. “First, the Spy will be leaving tomorrow morning for emergency medical care. He is dying here and needs better treatment than I can offer him.”

There were a few grumbles. Shit. Goddammit. Not again.

“Also, we are out a Medic.”

Seriously? What else? Fuck.

“How?” The Demo asked. “The REDs haven’ tried anyt’ing in days, and he’s not th’ type to go prancing about like these eedjit Scouts.” He turned to the one present. “No offense, lad.”

The Medic turned to his assistant, who stood and cleared his throat.

“I did a search. It was-”

“Why you?” A Sniper asked. His eyes were narrowed and he didn’t look too pleased. “You didn’t think that maybe some of us could help tracking the bloke down? Why just you?”

“We didn’t want to worry you,” the older Medic said. “There have been some rumours floating around that RED might try something soon. If we were all running around like chickens with their heads cut off, we’d be pretty easy to infiltrate. This way was best for all of us. I stayed in case a battle erupted. He left to search.”

“And what about ‘im? What if he ran into trouble?”

The younger Medic promptly pulled out his saw and gun.

“I’m offense. If you came out of your little hidey-hole more often and joined the real fight, you’d know that.”

The Sniper stood, but the Heavy next to him pushed him back down.

“Quiet, both of you,” the older Medic said. “We’re down four men right now, and we can’t afford this. Not here, not now. Continue.”

The other medic cleared his throat.

“As I was saying, I did a search.” He pulled a bloody rag out of his pocket and placed it on the table, spreading it out. It was a shirt. “This was all I found, out in the marshes.”

Shit.



Marcel slept uneasily. His stomach was full and he was sleepy, but the wall that was supposed to keep his memories back kept cracking. He kept half-waking from dreams that were really memories.

The first time he met Etienne, they were-
Didn’t find him all that attractive. Sure, he was French, but he was born in America and he wasn’t all fruity like this guy-
Felt like a girl, moaned like a girl, hell, smelled like a girl, but-
Might be gay, shit, shit, shit-
Probably explained why his relationships never lasted-
Hated the weird looks they were getting; so what if they smiled at each other-
Fucking loved his job, his life, his boyfriend-
Pyros could go die in their own fires-
Fucking Pyros-
Fire-
Fire-

“FIRE!”

He sat upright, hands slapping at his body, trying to put out the flames that weren’t there. Why was it so hot? He was hot. He was… hot . He groaned and shuddered as a wave of ecstasy rippled through him. His entire lower half knotted and curled around itself before he went completely limp.

“Good dream?”

He jumped and nearly screamed before turning towards the Medic – the commanding one – alone, in the light of the nearby tunnel.

“Y…yes, sir,” he said as he blushed furiously. The man chuckled. It sounded a bit forced, but not mean, like Doctor Lee.

“Well I am glad you are enjoying yourself.” He pulled the crate over and sat on it, then beckoned for him to come closer. C-9 obeyed, gliding through the now nearly empty, very shallow pool of water. “I am sorry that I have not given you the attention you are used to,” he said as he extended a hand and gently gripped C-9’s face.

At first he almost panicked. The only times anyone ever touched him like that were when they were going to do something to him. Sometimes it felt good. Sometimes it felt VERY good. And sometimes it hurt. But this man smelled different. He didn’t smell like “fighting,” or testing, or experiments that would leave him dizzy for days. He just smelled like…a doctor.

And a doctor was all he was, at least in that moment. He made him take off the balaclava and examined his teeth and gums and throat, then his eyes (with an apology for the brightness, he knew how sensitive he was to the light) and ears. He checked for any bruises or sprains from the ride over, then listened to his heart. He made him lie down and felt his internals. Then he inspected every cup on every tentacle. It took almost an hour, but he had to be thorough. He wanted to know C-9 inside and out.

Finally he pulled the second box over and pat the top of it.

“Lie back and relax. This will be quick and painless.”

Oh, shit. He was one of those doctors. C-9 trembled but did as told. He didn’t see the control anywhere, but he didn’t feel like finding out that it was in the Medic’s pocket.

“Calm down,” he said lowly, soothingly. C-9’s upper half was still shaking, but he managed to calm the writhing mass below him. “Quick, I promise,” he said as he prodded around for a moment. “There. All done.”

That was it? That was really it? He sat up and frowned up at the Medic.

“What? Did you think I was going to try something on you?” He stood. “I am a professional, C-9. I do not seek relations with my patients.”

This put C-9 at an odd sort of ease. He trusted this man. Actually trusted him. Probably because Marcel had, and had once sought him out before the other Medics if ever he was injured.

“C-9?”

He blinked a few times and looked up.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Now, let’s get you into some deeper water.”

They made their way to one of the round doors on the north side of the tunnels.

“This leads to the main waterways,” he said as he turned the handle and pulled the door in. A flood of water about a foot high rushed in for a moment and then disappeared. He led C-9 through and then pulled the door shut behind him. Here there were walkways – real, dry walkways, and deeper water. Only a couple of feet deep, but it was more water than he’d seen in two days.

“It gets deeper,” the Medic said, as though he could feel C-9’s anticipation. They kept walking, much like they had the previous day, learning the maze of tunnels. At one point they crossed under a stairway. The water there was very deep. The Medic turned with a very stern face that immediately caught C-9’s attention.

“These stairs lead to our base. If you are ever going to go under these stairs, you will be cloaked and deep in the water, am I understood?”

He nodded immediately.

“I must never be seen by a BLU,” he said automatically.

“Good boy.”

He led him to the mouth of the tunnel, which emptied out into a wide, concrete-lined canal.

“When you are out here, you must be cloaked and quiet. You may not think that you will be seen, but there are Snipers everywhere. Ours and theirs. Do you understand?”

He nodded. He could not be seen by anyone. Such were the rules of Spies and not-people.

“Across the canal are tunnels identical to ours. They – like us – regularly patrol these waterways, and it is not uncommon for one to try and swim across to infiltrate us from below. Your job, for now, is to prevent that. Kill them in their own tunnels or in the canal between. If you absolutely must kill one here, drag him across the water to his own base. We can not have bodies showing up randomly in our tunnels. Do you understand?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Good. Now, you may do as you wish. I expect a report tomorrow morning.”

“Yessir.”

He waited while the Medic went back the way they came, and then looked around.

Snipers, Marcel thought as he quickly and quietly dived into the canal. He explored the waters, which were very shallow in the center, just under the bridge, but upwards thirty feet deep in other areas. There was an old, rusted car in one corner, a tire not too far from it, an ancient minigun half embedded in the silt, what looked like hundreds of bits from an old sentry, and thousands upon thousands of spent bullets and their casings.

All good to know, but otherwise useless.

He made his way into the enemy’s waterways and listened. It was quiet. Not a soul in sight or hearing range. He advanced.

He spent the rest of the evening working off his morning meal, getting to know the RED tunnels, which ones were deeper, which were too bright, which howled far too loudly when the wind picked up. He memorized it until early the next morning, when he was satisfied that he could navigate the area.

He had been on his way back out to the canal when he heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs above him. He cloaked and moved into a shadow.

“Didja’ hear that, lad?” a Demo asked, excited. “Sounds like tha’ BLU Spy wasn’ as hurt as we’d originally thought. There was a muffled response and then more descending footsteps.

Once the Pyro’s feet hit the ground, he started spraying flames everywhere. Marcel watched, wide-eyed and panicked, as they neared him and then turned away at the last moment.

“Come out, come out, wherever ye are!” the Demo shouted in a sing-song voice. The Pyro echoed him, the words muffled and incomprehensible.

Marcel had been so focused on not pissing himself that he didn’t notice that his cloak was about to run out. The moment it did he ducked under and headed for the entrance.

“The canal!” the Demo shouted as he ran down the walkway towards the entrance. “Spy in the water!” He screamed.

Sniper fire started popping all around Marcel as he dove deeper and headed for his own waters.

Shit, shit, shit, damn Pyro, damn Demo, SHIT!

The water was getting shallower. Not enough that he wouldn’t be covered, but also not enough to buffer him from the Sniper’s bullets as he entered the BLU canals. One grazed his side, just enough to burn. He gasped and rocketed forward into the waterway. The Pyro was sloshing up the narrow strip in the middle of the waterway, carrying his flamethrower above his head. The Demo was screaming at him to not be “sooch a fooking eedjut!”

But he followed the trail of bloody water, revealed by the light of his flamethrower, until the trail petered out somewhere in a dark corner of the empty tunnels.

“Mffr fkkr,” he shouted. Marcel was just below him, holding a hand to the injury. He was absolutely petrified. The Pyro was huge, about six feet tall and thick/[i]. Not exactly like a Heavy, but not exactly like a man who lifted cars in his spare time, either. He was some sort of oddly balanced medium, and he was terrifying.

It was, of course, expected that he’d be wary of Pyros. It was a Pyro’s job to catch a Spy. But this was not only a Pyro, but a [i]big Pyro. And this was not only a big Pyro, but the big Pyro that had nearly burned him to death.

That’s right. He had burned. He had been sent on a mission. Sentry in the water. Fire. Fucking fire.

He gasped, unaware that he had subconsciously switched to using his lungs, and then coughed. Before he could switch to his gills he claws his way to the surface, sputtering and wheezing, only to find the Pyro’s mask inches from his own.

“Ct yoo.”

OH NO, TENTASPY

I hope he doesn't have to kill those two, but I'm pretty sure he'll end up having to kill them anyways D:

IX

A thick, gloved hand descended and snagged him by the hair, then lifted him part-way out of the water. Marcel struggled, trying not to cry out, too terrified to lash out and take the Pyro down.

For a few moments the firebug just laughed, head thrown back, as he put his flamethrower down and reached for his axe.

“Mm’ gnna shp oo n hf,” he mumbled as he brought the blade right up to Marcel’s face. “Rt dn ta mddl.” He laughed again and brought the blade back. Marcel expected to die (and, honestly, he didn’t mind all that much) and shut his eyes, waiting. When it didn’t come, he looked up. The Pyro was shaking.

“Mrcl?”

He blinked. The Pyro dropped his axe beside him and disconnected part of the mask, then pulled it up just so that his mouth and nose were showing.

“Marcel…that’s your name, right? You…they sent you away? Four months ago?”

Was…was the Pyro crying?

“It is you, isn’t it?” He snagged him by the upper arm with his free hand, let go of his hair (finally – that had hurt) and pulled him out of the water. Needless to say, by then Marcel had donned a disguise of…well, himself. With legs. So the Pyro never noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“Dude…they…they said that it was bad,” the Pyro said as he sat down next to him. Marcel watched him warily, hand slowly going towards his pocket and the knife in it. “I know we’re supposed to be fighting. It’s what we do. But not like that. We…” He paused to rub his nose with the back of his glove. “We don’t do that where I’m from. It’s not right.” He pulled his mask all the way up, revealing what looked like a younger, handsomer version of the BLU’s own Engineer. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking Marcel in the balaclava-clad face.

“It was not all your fault,” he said, voice wavering. He was shaking. “My own team…”

He wrapped his arms around himself and drew his lower half up. To the Pyro it looked like he was just pulling his knees in.

“Hey. Come on now,” he said as he threw a massive arm around his shoulders. “You’re alive, right? And obviously doing fine, if a little wet.”

He laughed bitterly and shook his head.

“You have no idea,” he muttered. The Pyro pat his back and Marcel couldn’t help but enjoy it. He enjoyed this, the first time in months that he’d been treated like a human being.

“Well listen, this is great and all, but if we’re caught, we’re both fucked,” the Pyro said as he stood. He offered Marcel a hand and he took it. The Pyro pulled him to his feet and shook the hand with a nod. “Liam,” he said.

“M…Marcel,” he replied. Despite the weird, vaguely awkward conversation, he still felt like the man might randomly pick that flamethrower back up and just end it all right there.

“Nice to meet you. Now I’d better get the fuck out of here before-”

“Who is down here?” It was BLU Heavy, at the top of the stairs not too far away.

They both froze.

“I hear voice! If there is RED man in tunnel, he should run now!”

They remained still, barely breathing.

After what felt like forever, there was the grunt and a sigh. The Heavy walked off...

Only for the Demo to start charging down the stairs.

“…what do you mean ye heard voices down here?” he shouted back up the stairs. He paused to face the Heavy. “Yer the only other fecker on duty right now, ‘course it’s a feckin’ RED!”

His footsteps were joined by the Heavy’s and the both of them descended into the walkways. The Pyro gave Marcel a panicked look. Without thinking, he wrapped a few tentacles around the other man’s midsection and slipped into the water.

He struggled, of course. That was to be expected. But the struggling was short-lived as they pushed through the deeper waters. Marcel could hear the Demo above.

“I heard ‘m go in! Someone’s in th’ water!”

Instead of following them, the Demo went to one exit and the Heavy to the other.

Shit.

Marcel retreated deeper into the tunnels, following the deepest channels, occasionally pushing the Pyro up for a few gasps of air before dragging him deeper.

C-9 was bringing in his next meal.



RED and BLU were both on high alert.

“Tell me again what you saw?” one of Red’s Soldiers asked Shorty.

“A BLU Spy,” he said, enunciating very clearly for the thick-skulled man, “in the water. Swimming very fast. For his own base. Pyro followed. Demo stayed behind. I got a bad body shot in. He swam away. Pyro kept chasing him.”

“So, what’s the big deal?” Their Scout asked, bat in hand. “Sounds like they want to start a fight, so lets give’m a fight!”

“THE big DEAL,” the Soldier shouted at the Scout, “is that they obviously have a new SPY! Which makes TWO threats!”

“One, sir,” one of the other Snipers said as he walked in. “Didn’t you hear? The bloke they found on their front lawn had to be hauled away like the last one.”

“Do you think that the new guy is the old guy then?” the Scout asked.”

“Could be,” Shorty said with a shrug. “Either way, they’re back in the infiltrating business. That other bloke that they just sent out sure wasn’t doing anything for ‘em.”

“So what now?” The other Sniper asked as he scratched his head.

“So let’s give. Them. A. Fight!” The Scout shouted, punctuating the last four words with smack of the bat to the nearby wall.

“A fight it is!” the Soldier replied as he headed down the halls. “Up! Up! Out of your beds, ladies, it’s go time!”



“What do you mean there’s a RED in our waterways?” the veteran Soldier asked. He did not look too pleased to be awake.

“I mean,” the Heavy said with a yawn, “that I heard other Heavy shouting. It was loud, heard it through all the halls. Said that he heard voices, so he checked it out. Demo Man went in with him. They have not come up.”

“Shit,” the Soldier mumbled as he started knocking on doors.

“Everyone up,” he shouted. “Red alert, boys. Enemy in the base! Repeat, enemy in the waterways!”

They were on their feet quickly. It looked like today was going to be an exciting day.

“Where are our Medics?” the Heavy shouted as he knocked on their bedroom doors. “Medics are gone!” He seemed distraught.

“Chill,” a tired, red-eyed Scout said as he walked in and headed for his room. “They’re dealing with stuff out back, okay? Give ‘m a minute.”

The Heavy frowned, headed for the back window, and looked out. Two people, one covered, one hooked up to a drip, were being loaded into the back of an ambulance.

“Oh.”

He headed for the Scout’s door and knocked.

“Go away.”

He knocked again.

“Fuck off, man.”

One last knock. Shuffling feet behind the door. Unlocking. The door opened. The Scout peered out, crying.

“The hell do you want? ”

“Just to say sorry that brother is dead. Mother will be sad. I had son once. Was sad when son died. I am sad for you. Go sleep now, you will be better.”

The Scout sniffled and nodded.

“Thanks, Tiny.” He shut the door, locked it again, and went back to crying loudly into his pillow.

The Heavy frowned.

“Why does sad Scout keep calling me Tiny?” he asked himself as he walked away.



The Pyro was scared. There was no hiding it. Marcel – or the thing that used to be Marcel – was dragging him through the tunnels. They had passed through a round, hidden door at one point, into shallow waters, and now they were in the back of some waterway under the BLU base. It was dark. There were clothes and towels everywhere. And, worst of all, his flamethrower had been abandoned above.

Marcel, still gripping the Pyro tightly, watched him from as far away as he could while still maintaining his hold.

C-9 was furious. This was a RED in his territory. This was an enemy is his home. He should die. He should be food.

Marcel was having an internal fight with C-9. So what if it was a RED? The man should have killed him, but instead took the time –and risk – to apologise for not killing him properly months earlier. It was a stupid move, but a sincere one, and it was the first time that he’d been treated properly in months.

But it was a RED. In his territory.

But the man was-

“Hey. You’re clearly a bit messed up…” he pushed at the tentacles that were wrapped around his waist, then let up when they gripped harder. “But…thanks.”

Marcel and C-9 were both stunned.

“You don’t-”

“Think that you’re a freak? Sure I do. Feel like puking and passing out? Yessindeedy. But I don’t know your story. All I know is that you let me apologise without trying to kill me, even though I’d just been about to cut you in half, and then saved my life –from your own team mates- and still haven’t killed me. It looks like you’re trying to make that decision right now, but if I could persuade you one way or the other, I’m real grateful for all of that and would really appreciate not dying today.”

So. This was it. The one human being that had seen the creature known as C-9 and still spoke to him as though he were Marcel. No. Not Marcel. His voice had changed. But he wasn’t speaking to C-9 either.

The grip on the man’s midsection relaxed and pulled away. He looked away and cleared his throat.

“You should go,” he said quietly.

“Can I?” the Pyro asked as he fiddled with his mask.

“If you don’t, I’m not sure you’ll survive.”

“But if I do, I’m quite certain I won’t. Your boys won’t let me stroll right through the water just because you said so. And I’m going to go on a hunch and say that they aren’t really your boys, now, are they?”

He shrugged and pulled his nails up to bite them, then stopped himself and blinked a few times. He used to bite his nails, didn’t he? Etienne had hated that. Etienne was-

“Hey guy, are you okay?”

“Hm?”

“You just kinda’…fuzzed out. Again.”

“Oh.” He fiddled with his hands and sat back further in his ‘pool,’ which was now only inches deep.

“So now what?” the Pyro asked. “You gonna’ kill me? Keep me as a pet? Bring me to your leaders?”

Marcel chuckled. The noise died quickly and he kept avoiding looking at the Pyro. He knew that if he saw him staring at his lower half or his mouth, it would be all over. C-9 would take over and that would be the end of it. He couldn’t let that happen.

He liked this guy.

“I’m losing you, bud,” the Pyro said. Marcel blinked a few times and finally looked up. The Pyro wasn’t looking at his tentacles or mouth. He was looking at him “You tired or what?”

“I think I need to lie down for a while,” he said after a pause. His head felt like it was going to explode. He could feel the mental block crumbling and wasn’t sure if he wanted to be awake for the wave of memories that felt like it was about to hit him. The feeling was unbearable, like every time he’d ever had a word on the tip of his tongue, all crammed into one moment. And then there was this guy that shouldn’t be here, or alive, but couldn’t leave, and he couldn’t bring himself to kill.

“If you hear footsteps, hide,” he said as he pulled over a pile of towels, wet them in the water, and balled them up again. Despite the nervousness of having an enemy Pyro right next to him, he fell asleep quickly.



“Hey Guy. Wake up. Come on, Guy.”

He woke up.

“My name is not Guy,” he mumbled as he went to drag over the box of clothes. It was gone. “Where-”

He saw it, some ten feet off, floating in a good foot of water. The whole tunnel system was flooded – check that, flooding. Water was coming in from the smaller pipes in the wall, not quickly, but not exactly dribbling either. He himself was submerged in over two feet of water.

“Yeah, meant to ask you about that,” the Pyro said as he shuffled uncomfortably in the half-foot he was now sitting in. “Am I going to drown?”

“No,” he said as he glided over to the box and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. It was soaked. “Merde.”

“You seem…different,” the Pyro said as he eyed the not-Marcel, not-C-9 suspiciously.

“I am.”

“Well? Spill it.”

“Why should I tell you? You are a RED Pyro in my territory. The rivalries don’t come any more fierce than that.” He started pulling off his dingy, bloody clothes.

“Well…right.” The Pyro sighed and played with the flaregun at his hip. The movement was caught out of the corner of the Tentaspy’s eyes and he reached out, quickly, and knocked the gun away and into the water.

“Shit man. You really have changed.” He smiled weakly and then swallowed. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

He shrugged.

“I am not hungry just yet, so I do not have to kill you for sustenance. But you are my enemy, so I should. Yet it would be a waste.”

“So…so you aren’t…but you are…I don’t follow, Guy.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Well what do you expect me to call you? You’re not Marcel, that’s for sure. If you were Marcel, you would be fuzzing out and crying. But you’re not whatever that creature is that wants to eat me. So what do I call you?”

He felt no inclination to say either Marcel or C-9. He was right. He was neither of them now. He was just…a guy.

“Well what would you call me? And do not say Guy. My first doctor’s name was Guy and I do not want to be reminded of the entire medical field every time someone calls my name.”

The Pyro chuckled and nodded.

“Alright, alright. Well, you’re French, right?”

“Eh.”

“Oh right. Not any more. Ah.” He put his hands behind his head and looked up, tapping his feet.

“Demi?”

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“Fine, fine. Too obvious, I guess.” He pondered for a while. “I could go all biblical and call you Job.”

“No you couldn’t. I am growing impatient.”

“Easy, easy, alright, fine.” He puffed out his cheeks as he thought, blowing the air out slowly. “Aiden? Best friend’s name was Aiden when I was six.”

“What does it mean?”

The Pyro grinned.

“You really want to know?”

The Spy made a “do not fuck with me” look.

“Little. Fire.”

He was not amused. Nor was he angry. He caught the rather dull, obvious irony of it and shrugged. “If that is what you will call me. As long as it’s not fucking Guy.”

“Awesome! Aiden it is. So, Ace, am I going to live or what?”

“What is this with all the names?” He threw his arms up in the air and started gliding through the water, headed for a door, then stopped half-way down a tunnel.

“Well? Do you want to live or not?”

“Oh, shit,” Liam muttered as he hopped to his feet. “Right behind ya, Aiden.”

The Spy grumbled as he led the Pyro to the door. He opened it, fought the massive wave the came with it, then ushered the man through. He shut the door behind him and led him through the now-empty, swollen channels. Once they made it to the entrance to the canal (after stopping first for Liam’s axe and flamethrower), the source of the water was evident.

“Jeeeeeezus, it’s raining cats ‘n dogs,” Liam said as he stared out into the dark, gloomy storm. He looked his flamethrower over and sighed. “Gonna’ have to take ole’ Aven apart when I get back, get the water out of her.”

“Aven? What type of name is that?”

“Irish. For ‘fair radiance.’ I think it fits.”

The Spy rolled his eyes. “What are you? A book of names?”

“No. Just Irish ones.” He turned to face the Spy and smiled. Smiled. “Hey, gu-…Aiden. Thanks for not killing me. And letting me crash with you while your team tried to kill me. Oh, I slept for a bit, by the way. Hope you don’t mind.” He started fiddling with his mask, brought it down to just over his mouth, and grinned. “Sláinte!” With that, he pulled the mask all the way down, threw his flamethrower over his head, and started walking across the now chest-deep but still shallower waters that ran down the middle of the canal, singing something muffled but very Irish sounding as he walked.

Good morning, kiddies. It's time for me to go to bed because I feel like something the cat dragged in. Just so you know, I'll probably be gone most if not all of the weekend, which means most likely no updates until Monday. So hang tight, write your crying love letters, and think about me while I brave the skies via Jet Blue for the forty-fifth time in my twenty-one years.

That's right. I'm flying home for Thanksgiving, bitchez.

Love and such,

-C

>>6995

That Pyro is the cutest pyro in the world. I'm glad tentaspy let him go <3

That Pyro...makes me so happy.

This fic is.. all kinds of awesome. I love it.

...ohmygodthat'sthebestpyroEVER.

God damn why did I not read this fic already it's awesome.

THIS.
You can officially call me hooked now.

So I lied. See, fun thing about this bug I have is that it's messing with my sleep cycle. So, in my delirious non-sleep, I thought of all of you and wrote this. Enjoy.
----

X

The red light switched off and the blue light came on. Finally. After three hours. He waited a few minutes (just in case) and then knocked on the door. There was a pause, and then the sound of hastily-approaching boots. The door opened. Before he could say anything, he was hauled in by the collar of his shirt and the door was slammed behind him.

“What did you do?” the head Medic asked. He was furious.

“I didn’t-”

“You let them see you. You led them back to our base. You didn’t kill a single one of them.”

“I-”

The grip on his shirt tightened, then immediately released.

“On the table. Now.”

He crawled up onto the examination table and took his shirt off.

“Now,” the Medic said, voice and face calmer, “what happened? Tell me the truth. I promise I will not be angry so long as you tell me the truth.”

Aiden doubted that.

“I explored their tunnels. On the way back they heard my cloak and followed me out. A Sniper must have seen me uncloak. I was hit. A Pyro chased me into our tunnels. I hid for a while.”

The Medic sighed as he opened up an alcohol swab and started cleaning the wound on his side.

“Why did you hide?”

Aiden cleared his throat and looked away. The Medic stopped and pulled his face back to face him.

“Why did you hide?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and tried to look off in another direction. Again, the hand on his face.

“C-9, why did you not do what you were trained to do?”

What was that he detected? Fear? Anger? Both? Either way he wasn’t sure he should test the man. Not yet.

“I hate fire.”

The Medic closed his eyes, sighed, said something in German, and went back to cleaning the wound.

“Of course you do. Of course you do.”

He leaned back and looked at the cut.

“You will not need stitches, such is your luck. The wound cauterized itself. But you should come up here every evening to get it cleaned for the next week or so.” He started looking over the individual tentacles, not as thoroughly as he had the night before, but making sure that he checked each one.

Aiden kept shivering as the Medic touched him. He knew that they weren’t supposed to be those kinds of touches, but, well, he was sensitive.

“Are you cold?” he muttered as he frowned at a small cut in one of the limbs. It didn’t look like more of a papercut, but the man was sent into a tizzy over it. Not on the outside, of course, but Aiden could smell it.

“No,” he said as another shudder ran through him.

“Hm.” He stood, went to a nearby closet, and pulled out a grey wool blanket. “Take this. Don’t catch a cold on me. And watch yourself. If you get too scratched up something might get infected and I can’t give you antibiotics. Now go.”

He shooed Aiden out, holding the door open for him and then shutting it behind him, then pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

Aiden wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The man didn’t care about him at all – not as a freak or as a human being. He was a toy to him. A shiny new toy whose sole purpose was to do exactly what he was told to do.

“Asshole,” he muttered as he slithered through the tunnels. Two feet now stood where two inches had days before. While this was great for him – he could now freely swim through a number of the channels – it meant that he had to hang his clothes on a line of pipe a good four tunnels away from the little cove he called home. He didn’t need to get them dry so much as to get them off and put somewhere he knew they couldn’t float away, and he certainly wasn’t going to sleep in them.

Speaking of sleep, though, he was exhausted. He wasted no time in hanging his shirt on the pipe and dragging the blanket over to the now four feet deep area that he slept in.

He let the blanket soak for a while on the surface while he repositioned the towels he had down there. After a bit the blanket started sinking. He wrung it out under the water to get rid of any trapped air bubbles and pulled it down to his pile of towels and the one useless, buttonless waistcoat.

For a moment he simply admired his handiwork. Almost a proper bed. Now if he could just convince them to give him a mattress, he’d be all set.

Silliness put aside, he settled down, resting his head on a bundle of towels and pulling the blanket to cover him. At that moment he felt almost human.

He drifted off fairly quickly, but something kept waking him. A small, repeating sound that existed both in his dreams and in the real world. It was growing nearer. A steady clinking, like metal tapping on stone.

Finally it woke him fully and he sat up. The water had risen another foot, which meant that he’d been out fairly long. Probably five or six hours. He surfaced, yawned to get the air in his lungs, and looked around. The clinking was louder, coming from not too far away, almost right behind him. He wheeled around and saw the source of the sound.

“Oh,” he said, sleepily, as he moved forward and picked up the flare gun. “Forgot about you.” He looked it over, taking in its odd curves and weight. It was loaded, but useless after having been in the water for so long.

At once he wanted both to return it to Liam and keep it for his own. He brought it to his nose. It smelled like him. Like fire, a scent that both terrified him and excited him. If he brought it to the Pyro, he would be happy. If he kept it for himself, he would have to buy a new flare gun.

Hell, it’s an excuse to visit the man, he thought to himself as he turned the gun over in his hand. He dropped it and blushed. No. No, no, no, no, no. Hell no. We are not playing this game. I will not fall for him. I will not fall for him.

He frowned.

“So what?” he said aloud. “So what? Am I not allowed to find a man attractive? It means nothing.” He snagged the gun again and dived under. Goddammit, I’m tired, he thought as he shut his eyes and shoved the gun under his pile of towels. Maybe I won’t be so stupid after I’ve had some sleep.



He wasn’t as “stupid” when he woke again early in the morning. He saw the gun, grimaced at the sight of the potential fire-spewing weapon, and surfaced to find that the water was up another half foot. Which meant that the raining had either slowed or stopped.

He went to find out, flare gun in hand, stopping to put on a shirt and waistcoat (he didn’t feel like the jacket today) before exiting into the main tunnels.

He was much more cautious this time, cloaking out of earshot of the stairwell and staying cloaked until he made it into the shadows under the bridge in the canal. He let it recharge there, then went on into the RED tunnels.

It was quiet, as was expected for early morning. Normally he would enjoy the quiet, but he was hungry. No people meant no food.

He stayed low, surfacing only when he was certain his cloak was well charged. There had to be someone on patrol.

He made it to the stairwell and saw him. Liam was on duty and sitting on the bottom stair, head in his hand, fast asleep.

It was pathetic. And adorable in a way that only a six-foot-plus Irishman wielding fire can be adorable, but mostly pathetic. He wouldn’t even need his cloak to sneak up on him.

Which he did. Still under the water (in case anyone else was around to hear) he uncloaked, then pulled out of the water silently. He went for his knife, then thought better of it and just raised a few tentacles, ready to wrap them around the man’s throat. Before he could even think to do so, the flamethrower was jammed at his chest and a compression blast knocked him back into the water.

He recovered fairly quickly, righting himself in the water, but kept most of his head under water as he breathed without his lungs (which felt like hell right then) and glared up at the Pyro. The hulking man pulled out his axe and pointed down the channel with it.

Aiden quickly weighed his options. Flee? He could certainly outswim the man. Attack? Not with what felt like shards of glass in his chest. Do what he said and hope that he let him go? Sure, why the hell not. At the very least, in the time they spent doing whatever the Pyro had in mind – talk, most likely- perhaps the feeling that all of his ribs had just shattered would disappear and he could get his anger at ever having had that feeling out on the man.

They went in a ways, not too far from the stairwell but not too close, either. The Pyro remained standing as he pulled his mask up over his nose, eyes still obscured. His smile was gone.

“Funny thing about this mask,” he said, any jovial nature that’d been in his voice from the previous day gone, “is that, when you get the breathing and body language down, an enemy won’t know that you aren’t sleeping.” He pointed the flamethrower at Aiden, who backed away a bit.

“Did it hurt?” Aiden glared. The man smiled. “I bet. You’re lucky it wasn’t on full blast. You’d have been clear through that wall.” He stopped and listened as footsteps above them came and went, then crouched down. “What are you doing here? Wouldn’t be trying to eat me, now, would you?”

Aiden rose a little higher to say something, but his chest still hurt and using his lungs made it hurt worse. Luckily the shards of glass feeling was gone. In its place though was a steady ache that he knew was going to be there for at least a few days.

“Come on, now, speak up, Ace.”

“No,” he managed to say. Even that made him wince. Liam smiled.

“Naw, thought not. You just like the hunt, don’t’cha? Get thrills from sneaking up on sleeping Pyros, yeah?” He pulled the flamethrower up and across his knees. The smile disappeared. “But seriously. Yesterday was nice ‘n all, but I have a duty to this team. I’m the official tunnel-Spy-checker right now until shit settles down, and that means I check for Spies every morning.” He paused to yawn. “And every afternoon, and every evening. Which means that I will always be right here. Which means that you will never ever sneak into this fucking base, do you understand me?”

Aiden nodded and glared. Liam smiled and stood.

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page then. Get the fuck out of here before I toast your ass. And I promise, this time I’ll make it count.”

Aiden nodded once more, placed the flare gun at the Pyro’s feet, and disappeared under the surface before cloaking himself and swimming off.

“Huh.” Liam bent down and picked up the now-useless gun. “Wondered where you’d gotten off to.”



In the past few days, the rain had stopped and the water had receded a foot or so. It was far too deep for any of the Medics to come through without risking looking like they’d just gone for a swim, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t get his attention.

On the second morning since his second encounter with Liam, the head Medic called for him from the stairwell. He heard him, tried for a while to pretend that he hadn’t, then had to come when the German started threatening donning waders and dragging him out.

It was early in the morning and he was tired and weak. He hadn’t eaten in days – since the Medic- and it was making him grumpy.

“Yessir,” he spat as he approached the Medic. He was still wrapped in his wet blanket and there was a towel around his neck.

“What is wrong with you? I told you to come up here every evening. Are you sick?”

“Nosir.”

“Come up here.”

He followed him into the infirmary and hopped up onto the examination bench. Immediately the blanket and towel were pulled away. The Medic gasped and said a few things in German.

“C-9. What happened to you?”

He started gently prodding at the enormous bruise on chest. It was still sore, and every poke made him flinch.

“Pyro. C’mpression blast.” Pain or no pain, he was falling asleep on the spot.

“And he let you live?”

“I fled.”

“Is this the same Pyro?”

“Yessir.”

He nodded off. The Medic snapped right next to his ear and grabbed his chin. He shined a penlight in his eyes, making him pull away and growl tiredly.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Dunno.”

He ran his hands over Aiden’s sides and frowned. “You have lost weight. You need to be taking better care of yourself.”

“Can’t eat,” he said as he closed his eyes again. “Nobody’s out. Too much rain.”

“It stopped raining yesterday,” the Medic said, frown deepening. “How long were you asleep?”

“Dunno.”

“Look at me when I am talking to you, C-9.”

He opened his eyes and looked the Medic in the face.

“Dunno,” he repeated.

The Medic sighed and stood straight up, then went beyond Aiden’s line of sight and started prepping a needle. What for? He turned his head and followed the Medic with his eyes, wary of that needle.

“Stop that,” he ordered. Aiden immediately looked down into his own lap. “It’s just something to make sure you don’t die of malnutrition. It won’t hold you over for long, so go out and hunt. Come back to me in ten hours or when you have eaten, whichever comes first.

He shooed him out the door, throwing his blanket and towel after him, and went about cleaning up the wet mess he’d left behind.

Aiden slipped back to where he’d been sleeping and deposited the towel and blanket there. He then made his way to the pipe with his clothes on it and started pulling a shirt on. As he was buttoning it, he could feel the shot –probably just a few vitamins, maybe even a placebo- working. He was jittery.

Shaking with energy and hunger, he left for the RED channels.



The Pyro was watching him. He was, once again, pretending to be asleep, and Aiden was cloaked, but he just knew it.

For a while he just stared at him, debating whether to kill him or wait for whoever was going to take his place. Every now and again he would duck under and swim off to let his cloak recharge, but otherwise the entire morning was nothing but quiet contemplating.

He’d been close to his decision to leave and come back in a few hours when the Pyro lifted his mask to just above his mouth and spoke.

“Thanks for the gun,” he murmured tiredly. “’s useless, but it’s got some sentimental value.”

Aiden said nothing.

“You make the water move differently. Nobody else would notice, but when you spend most of your time sitting down here watching, you get to know how things go. You make it move just a little differently.”

Oh.

“Boy! What’s go’in’ on down thar?” the Demo shouted. The Pyro sat up with a jerk and looked up. “You best not be sleep-talkin’, cuz that means yer sleepin’.”

“M’not sleeping,” he said with a massive yawn. The Demo clunked down the stairs and whapped him on the back of the head.

“Get upstairs and get yarself some coffee,” he said as he sat down on the bottom step, bottle of Scrumpy in hand. The Pyro slowly, sleepily obeyed, not once looking back at the water.

Immediately the Scot loaded his gun and started lining the channel with stickies. “No Spy’s goonna’ get past me, nosirree,” he said before taking a long swig. “That fookin’ Irishman thinks he’s all ‘Meester Spy-Check,’ well I got news for you!” His voice had risen to almost a shout. The Pyro started running down the hall, shouting something muffled. “Shut up, boy, ‘m not talkin’ t’you! Ever heard of a monologue?” The Pyro shook his head with a sigh and disappeared back down the hall. “Nay, ya wouldn’t, would’ja? Ye hulking, monstrous, traitorous feck!”

Traitorous? Had they found out that they Pyro had a chance to kill him and didn’t take it? What did-

“Just as soon kill The Queen as’d kill a feckin’ BLU.”

Oh. Oooooh. Right.

Well, his mind was made up. With Liam out of sight and his stomach growling and this man spouting these less-than-friendly things about the Pyro, Aiden decided that it was now or never. He slipped down and away, recharged his cloak, and then started advancing upon the Demo. He snuck under the metal, open-back stairs and reached up. One hand slipped over the man’s mouth and another, with the knife, made quick work of opening his throat. There was a brief struggle and then death. Aiden wrapped a few of his limbs around the man, dragged him deep into the back tunnels of the RED base, and consumed as much of him as his stomach would allow.



“How is he?”

It was noon. The blue light was on.

“Malnourished. I checked the sheets and he’s supposed to be able to go a month on one meal, but I found the remains of his last one two days ago. He didn’t eat much.”

“Having difficulties adjusting to the new area?”

“We can only hope that it is that simple. I gave him some liquid vitamins and sent him to hunt seven hours ago. He should be back soo-”

He was cut off by the knock at the door. They exchanged hopeful looks and the assistant went to open the door. A very satisfied looking Aiden peeked in.

“Ah, there you are,” the head Medic said as he pat the exam table. Aiden slid in and climbed up. His movements were a bit slow. “Feeling any better?” he asked as he prodded the belly that was threatening to pop one of the buttons off of his shirt.

“Not when you do that,” he muttered as he lay back.

“Did you overdo it?” It was hard to tell. The papers said that when he ate, he ate a lot unless something was wrong.

“A bit. Need t’sleep some of it off.”

“All you seem to be doing lately is sleeping, C-9.”

“No food. Too much food. One more day, then I’ll go Spy, I promise.” He started drifting off on the table, mouth open, snoring lightly.

“Does he seem different to you?” the assistant asked as he warily watched Aiden.

“Probably just a bit more comfortable with his environment is all. It is nothing to worry about. Carry him down, would you?”

The assistant gave the Medic a “please tell me you are joking” look, but it was met only with a cold non-expression. He sighed, prodded Aiden, received only a sleepy mumble, and then went about picking up up.

“He’s heavy,” he whined as he opened the back door.

“You’re weak. He’s a torso and tentacles”

“And half of another man. So he’s an entire man and tentacles. He’s freaking heavy.” He continued grumbling as he dragged Aiden down the steps, stopping once or twice to get a better grip on him. The other Medic watched from the doorway.

As he was going down the last step (with intentions to just throw him into the water – it was deep enough and he didn’t want to get wet), a tentacle oh-so-conveniently landed on the stair just before his foot did. Aiden jumped, hissed, growled, and started wrapping the medic in a death grip. The other Medic pulled the control out of his pocket.

“C-9,” he said, showing the control where he could see it. Aiden didn’t respond, but continued crushing the man’s body, pressing it against the stairs.

“C-9!” He shouted. Still no response. He sent a small shock over and the tentacles relaxed just long enough for the Medic to pull out an arm. Aiden growled again and gripped the man tighter. A hand reached up and gripped him by the neck, but he shook it off and bit it.

“Fuck! Fuck! Get him off! For Pete’s sake, he’s biting my hand off! GET HIM OFF!”

The Medic turned the power to max and sent another shock. Aiden twitched and fell back into the water, then dizzily but quickly retreated back into the tunnels.

“Get up here, you idiot,” the Medic roared. His assistant climbed the stairs and stumbled into the infirmary. He started washing his mangled, shaking hand but the other Medic pushed him back onto the examination table and took over, cleaning and stitching the cuts.

“I don’t see why you’re so angry at ME. He attacked me.”

“You were careless. You might have damaged him.”

“Oh yes, poor him. Poor C-9.” His voice was bitter and sarcastic. The other Medic grumbled as he continued stitching. “I don’t understand this anymore. We wanted something that will give us an upper hand against the REDs. So far he has been nothing but a nuisance to us, almost gave himself away, led that freakish Pyro into our-”

“Enough. He is new. Give him a few more days.”

“I didn’t get a few days. I was expected to hop off the bus, happy as a clam, and just start healing people. And I did. There was no acclimation time, no-”

“You should get your head checked.”

The assistant was startled.

“What? Why? Is something-”

“You clearly must have hit it, or else have some conveniently selective form of amnesia. As I recall, for your entire first month, I did all of your work because you were too afraid of screwing things up.” He finished off the last stitch – thirty-five of them- and stood. “Give him time. We can only hope he isn’t as incompetent as you once were. With that he took a clean needle and thread and headed down the back stairwell.



His brain was a bit fuzzy, and he was dizzy, but was quite certain that he could hear the Medic calling for him. He didn’t sound angry, like he thought he would. If anything, he sounded concerned.

Probably worried that his toy might have a scratch on it, he thought to himself as he couldn’t help but obey the man and slip through the waters towards him.

The water at the base of the stairwell was about three feet deep, which was just enough for him to sit and peek out, only his eyes and balaclava-covered hair showing above the water.

“There you are.” He extended a hand. Aiden didn’t need to be asked. He knew what the man wanted. He brought up the tentacle that had been stepped on and the Medic gently pulled it up into the light.

“Seems fine…a little swollen. Does it hurt?”

He shrugged. Of course it hurt. A steel-toed boot with two hundred pounds of angry German in it had just pressed it against concrete. If it had any bones, they’d be broken for sure.

“Alright, alright. Well,” he pulled a syringe out of a case in his coat pocket, “I have something to help if you want it.” Aiden looked at the needle for a bit, then slowly pulled the tentacle away. “Okay, alright. That’s all I needed to know.” He stood. “Take it easy for the rest of the day.” He stood, went up the stairs, and disappeared in the infirmary.

Of course. Can’t have your toy breaking, now, can you?

He swam to his back corner and slept through the rest of the day.



RED had found few traces of their Demo.

“Tell me again what happened?” Spunk asked Liam.

“Hr tld mr t go gt cffy, s-”

“Oh, take the bloody mask off, already!” Shorty shouted from the couch. He didn’t seem all too concerned about the fact that their Demo had disappeared.

The Pyro complied, pulling the mask up to just under his eyes.

“I’ll admit, I was drifting off. He told me to go get coffee. So I did. I heard him shouting about something and went to check. He told me he was talking to himself. So I went to continue getting my coffee. When I went down – I swear to you, less than two minutes later – he was gone. His gun was on the ground, the stickies were up, and there were a few drops of blood on the stairs.”

“And you never saw anything while you were there?” Spunk asked.

“No. I wasn’t asleep, but I had been zoning out. If anything had made any noise, I would have heard it. I swear I didn’t hear any cloaking or walking or anything. There was nothing there when I left to get coffee.”

The Sniper grumbled something about incompetent children and pulled out his kukri.

“Shorty, you up for some Spy hunting?” He asked as he twirled the blade.

“Sure, sure, once this show is over,” he said as he settled further into the couch.

“Now, Shorty.”

The Sniper sighed and got to his feet after a few moments. He pulled out his submachine gun, looked it over, and put it back.

“You coming, Pyro? Whether you heard nothing or not, I suppose the very least you could do is help us look,” Shorty said as they started heading for the exit.

“Ah, sure. I guess I owe it to the guy, or something.”

Neither of the three had particularly cared for the Demo. He was vulgar, constantly drunk, and berated them constantly for not being “true to The Queen.” It was annoying, and he was annoying, but he’d been an invaluable member of their team in battle.

They headed down for the tunnels and started their search, Pyro in front lighting the way. He checked every corner and nook, ever tunnel and sub-tunnel.

“Dd’s nt hr,” he said halfway through their second round.

“Think he chased someone down across the canal?” Shorty asked.

“Mbb.”

It was a possibility. On more than one occasion, the Demo – usually when slightly more inebriated than usual – had, when out of ammo, chased down an enemy with his bottle of Scrumpy. If there was any left, he made sure to empty it (into his mouth) before breaking the bottle onto the other man’s head.

“I’m not goin’ cross those waters,” Shorty said as they entered the mouth of the tunnel. “Their Snipers aren’t half bad.”

“Wht d yu hv t wry but?” the Pyro asked. “F thr gna kll nyn, thr gna kll m.”

“Sparky’s got a point,” Spunk said as he took his had off, scratched his head, and replaced it. “Ain’t no Sniper we know that’d take a shot at you or me.”

“Bdy shld?”

“Fuck no, I ain’t goin’ to be no body shield.”

They stared out a bit longer.

“W gtta do t,” the Pyro said. “Gtta ublugtn t th mn.”

“Sparky’s right. Let’s get it over with,” Spunk said. With that they started crossing over the shallower waters under the bridge. They saw the BLU Snipers’ dots on the water and looked up to stare them down as best they could in the high afternoon sun.

When they got just past the half-way point, two warning shots, one from each Sniper, were rang out. They hit the water just beside the three REDs. They paused.

“What d’you think?” Spunk asked Shorty. “Suppose it’s one thing not to shoot a bloke when he’s staring at you from his own nest. But we’re on their territory. They have their own obligation to-”

Another pair of warning shots, this time closer.

The two Snipers backed up and looked at the Pyro. Before he could explain that he was going to just charge the damn tunnel, alarms started sounding on the RED side. They could hear the declaration that their intelligence had been taken, then the distinct whirr of Sasha being fired. There was a scream, then the declaration that their intelligence had been dropped. The enemy Snipers started firing at the bridge as quick, uneven footsteps started pounding across it.

Shorty and Spunk high-tailed it back to their own tunnels. Liam took advantage of the distraction and dashed for the enemy’s own waterways. He made quick work of hiding in a dark corner as the BLU’s own Pyro rushed in and started doing a hasty, uneven Spy-check, overlooking the corner Liam was in entirely.

He waited and listened. The Pyro did another round before heading up, and things were quiet for a bit. Then the yelling started.

“What do you mean you had to drop it?” A Soldier. “You don’t have to drop anything unless I tell you-”

“Well excuse me for being SHOT at! Do you know how hard it is to carry something and run and be shot at and not drop the thing your carrying and still try to run?”

“I DO NOT RUN FROM MY ENEMIES!”

“Fuck you!”

A muffled tussle. Struggling sounds. The Scout was having issues breathing.

“Get off me, you overgrown-”

“What is going on here?” A Medic. “Get off of him, the boy’s a bleeding mess.”

“It is his fault that-”

“It ain’t my fault!”

“Shut up, the both of you.” A Sniper. “Come on, Solly, the boy just lost ‘is twin. Go easy on the kid.”

“I will not! We are at war, people! There is no time for crying! If you lose a brother, MAKE A NEW ONE!”

“Oh, real easy for you to say,” the Scout shouted. “Let’s see if you feel the same when I take that fucking shovel of yours and-”

“That is enough! ” The Medic again, impatient. “Jake, get into the infirmary right now. Sargeant, I must kindly request that you stop making trouble. The boy’s life was just turned upside down. Please have some understanding.”

A mumbled yessir, then footsteps. Nobody was coming down into the tunnels, so Liam stood and started checking for the remains of their Demo.

After a half hour of searching, it was clear that there was no Demo to be found anywhere. He was gone.

“Sht,” he mumbled as he started trudging back towards the entrance. Before he could get there he heard the water shift and the distinct but muffled sound of a cloak.

“Stlkn ee agn, r oo?” he mumbled as he brought his flamethrower to the ready. He sent out a few spurts, lighting the tunnel briefly, just to test. Nothing was near enough to catch on fire.

For a while – longer than the cloak should have been able to hold up without recharging- he waited. Where was this spy, and why wasn’t he de-cloaking? He hadn’t seen him swim off – the water was too steady – nor was he around the corner, or behind him, or –

He bent down. The water in front of him was deep. Deep enough for a betentacled Spy to hide in, perhaps.

Indeed it was. Before he had any time to react, two tentacles and two arms wrapped around his head and dragged him – flamethrower and all – into the water.

I’m dead, he thought as he fought the tentacles – which were now wrapped around his whole body and dragging him somewhere. This is it. What a way to go.

He recognised where Aiden was taking him – the same spot he’d been taken the first time they’d formally met. After a few minutes he found himself back on the platform (now covered in a good two feet of water) with a writhing blue mass atop him.

He would have yelled at him to get off of him, but there was the issue of air. His mask was now filled with water and the rest of him was being pressed under the surface. So he really had no choice but to flail, trying to pull his mask off, struggling with the catches in his panic.

He hated deep water. He hated the idea of drowning. He loved fire, but the burning in his lungs was not one he wished to be acquainted with.

And Aiden just…sat there. Not forcefully – Liam could have sat up if he wanted – but not helping, either, tentacles wrapping around his legs and waist.

After a few moments of this struggling, Liam screamed. I’m gone, I’m gone, on, Saints preserve me, I’m history, he thought as started blacking out.

Thin, ungloved, almost dainty fingers worked at the latches to his mask and pulled it up to just above his eyes. The same digits pulled his head from the water and he leaned down to see if the man was breathing. He wasn’t.

Aiden leaned down and pressed his mouth to the Pyro’s. He pinched off his nose, tilted back his head back just a bit, and breathed out into him. After a few moments of this Liam sputtered, coughed, and tried to roll over.

Aiden held him down where he was, but also wrapped a few extra tentacles around the man’s back to keep him a bit higher out of the water.

“Wha…what…happened?” He asked between wheezes.

“I have a duty to this team,” Aiden said as he leaned close to Liam, noses touching. “And I plan to fulfil it. What happened the other day was nice and all, but this team…wait…how did it go?”

“…Ace, you drunk?”

“That depends on your definition of drunk. I did not consume alcohol, no, but I definitely consumed something that had very recently consumed a very high volume of alcohol.” He grinned and chuckled.

“Fuck…fuckin’ cannibal…you ate our Demo!” He brought his hands up and pushed the mask further up. “You’re a-”

“Monster? Well that’s your fault. ‘f you hadn’t burned me –or had done your damn job and done it right- I would not be in this mess. Your Demo would be alive. Our Scout would be alive. The other Spy wouldn’t be sent off. Things would be different if you hadn’t been so incompetent.”

“No. No, no, no, not this guilt trip again,” he said as he angrily shoved at Aiden. “I apologised for that. I came to terms. It’s not my fault. You said yourself. It’s your own team that set you up.”

Aiden growled and pressed their faces harder together, lips pulled back.

“So what? So…yeah, they set me up. It is all their fault. But you…you apologised. So say it again if you really meant it.”

Two hands came up and took his shoulders. Gently, they pushed him away. He let them, pulling himself off of the Pyro and allowing the man to sit as he was comfortable – cross legged in the water, back to the wall.

“Aiden, as I said before, I apologise for not doing my job right,” he said, hands still on his shoulders. “I apologise for unknowingly playing into someone else’s scheme, which resulted in you being how you are right now. There. Happy?”

Aiden shrugged and looked away.

“Well I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you want. Sober up a bit and then try talking to me. How’s that?”

He shrugged again and scratched at his face under his balaclava. Behind him, a few feet down in the water, a number of his tentacles were rubbing against each other. His face was flushed under the cloth and he kept clearing his throat.

“You okay?” Liam asked after a bit. “Or just drunk?”

“Yeah…just a bit drunk I guess…’s been a while since I’ve had so much. He was a bit…a bit…”

“Tanked? Yeah. He does that. A lot. Well, he did.” He caught sight of a cheek as Aiden kept rubbing it. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Yeah, ‘m…’m fine. Just…need sleep’re something.”

He pushed away and started lowering himself into the deeper area off the platform.

“Wait. Hey Ace I’m sorry. About the monster thing. And being angry. You gotta’ understand – the guy was my teammate. He was a dick, but my teammate, and then you dragged me under, and-”

“You said it yourself. You have an obligation to your team. I have one to mine. I was just doing what I needed, regardless of how angry you got.”

“Sure, sure. But, I have to ask. Why haven’t you killed me yet? I mean, I really was falling asleep this morning before I caught you, and right now…I’m on your terms. You have every right to kill me. So why not?”

Aiden shrugged and looked away, once more scratching his face as the limbs below him twitched and squirmed against each other.

“Jus’ too drunk, I guess,” he said with another shrug.

“Cool, I can respect that,” Liam said, a bit uneasily. “Now, uh. You mind if I chill for a bit? Until it’s dark enough that your Snipers won’t be looking too hard for me?”

“Do what you want,” he said before diving down.

What had his plans been? He should have killed the man on the spot and dragged his corpse back to his own men. Yet here he was, for the second time, alive and in his territory, and he was just…sleeping.

Certainly drunk enough, could use it as an excuse to try something on him, he thought to himself. No, no, couldn’t do that. Too mean. He’s a nice kid. It’s too mean.

He fell asleep to that thought and didn’t wake until he heard someone sloshing through the tunnels towards him.

He raised to the surface and sniffed. It was the Medic’s assistant. He was drunk and he wanted to fight.

Aiden looked over to the sleeping Liam and slithered up to him. He put a hand over his mouth, waking him, and gestured for him to be quiet. The Pyro nodded and let Aiden pull him into a deeper area to the side – not where he slept, it wasn’t quite that deep. It was the darkest corner of the cove.

“C-9, c’mere!” the Medic shouted as he plodded forward. Aiden moved forward to the edge of the light and watched the man come.

“There y’are. I need’ja upstairs.”

“I was sleeping,” he said, hoping beyond hope that the man would find some senses and leave him be.

“Tough shit.” The remote was in his hands in an instant and he sent over a low shock. Aiden gasped and twitched for a bit, then backed up instinctively.

“Don’t run. Don’t you ever run when I’m calling you.” He shocked him again. How many times did this make it for the day? Five? Six. He shocked him again. “Right here, right now, you.”

He was shaking and his thoughts were fuzzy and scattered. Not wanting to black out (oh please don’t let me black out he obeyed and followed the Medic upstairs.

The infirmary was empty. A glance to the clock showed that it was past eleven.

“Table. Now.”

He obeyed.



Liam watched in horror as Aiden first was shocked (at least that’s what it looked like) and then shocked again. It was clearly doing something to his brain, because after the third time he was slow but obedient.

He heard Aiden leave and then waited. Should he try and escape then? It felt late out, surely the Snipers wouldn’t notice him. But he felt a compulsion to stay to make sure the guy was alright.

So he waited. A good twenty minutes went by before he heard a door open. Someone was coming- just one person- and he was walking heavily and unevenly. The Medic came to the cove carrying Aiden, tossed him over to the platform, shocked him one last time, and left.

The moment the door slammed shut again, Liam pulled himself up onto the platform and lifted Aiden’s top half out of the water.

“Hey, Ace, you okay?”

He murmured something incomprehensible, winced, and curled up.

“Come on. What happened? What’d he do to you?”

Another mumble and a twitch. Liam shuffled against the far wall of the platform and pulled Aiden onto his lap.

“C’mon, guy. I’m sure whatever he did, you’ll be fine, right? Gonna’ come pester me early in the morning still, right? You aren’t too sad to pester me, are you?’

He didn’t get a response this time.

“Right. Well, I should go before-”

“Please don’t.”

“Dude, I gotta. If I stay, then your Snipers will catch me in the morning and that’ll be the end of it.” Aiden looked like he was about ready to cry. “Aw come on, Ace.” He pulled him tighter and sighed. “Just for a bit. Gotta’ make sure you’re still good to pester me, right?”

“Thankyou,” he muttered before closing his eyes and finally falling back asleep.

“Sure, sure.” He looked down at Aiden and waited for a bit before pulling the balaclava up a bit. “Cute face, Ace,” he said before rolling it back down and placing that hand on his back. “Too bad you’re on the wrong team."

Great stuff! Very interesting.

well, you've got me hooked. >:I

DAT LOVE INTEREST

i love where this story is going <3
finnally finished all you have so far, and now i want more :]

XI

Liam was gone when Aiden woke up the next morning. He could only hope that the man had gotten out before it was too light.

He vaguely remembered the Pyro saying something about coming to pester him in the morning. Might as well, he thought as he headed for the exit. Should see if he made it back alive, anyways.

He cloaked and quickly swam to the RED sewers, stopping only to let the disguise recharge and then entering the enemy waters.

The stairs were empty. Aiden swam through the entire tunnel system, even going through the door that led to the tunnels below the RED infirmary (which was thankfully empty and smelled like it’d been empty for years). Nothing. Liam was nowhere.

Aiden felt his heart skip a beat. Had the Snipers got him? He let the cloak recharge and swam back to the canal. It was empty. There were no traces of fresh blood, no bodies, nothing. He was relieved, but still worried. Did Liam’s team know what had happened?

He headed back for the RED tunnels and then froze when he heard two people coming down the stairs.

“Sho tees r th tnnls,” Liam said to a bored looking RED Spy. He looked older, the few visible patches of skin lined with wrinkles. A thin greying mustache sat just over his top lip.

“So zese tunnels, zey are in ze BLU’s compound as well, non?”

“Ee.”

“Don’ bozer wis ze French, boy. Your ‘eavy Irish tongue does it no good.”

“Sht. Ddn’ thnk y akst shd.”

“It does, to ze trained ear.” He pulled out a cigarette and started feeling around for his lighter.

“Allw ee.”

The Spy cocked an eyebrow.

“Suit yourself.” He held out the cigarette. The Pyro adjusted his flamethrower and lit just the tip of the cigarette.

“Very nice.” He put the cigarette to his lips, inhaled, then released the smoke and looked down at the shoulder of his jacket, which was still warm from the blast that had come within inches of it. “Never do zat again.”

The Pyro chuckled and re-adjusted his flamethrower.

“On’t sppos oo ant uh tor f th tnnls, d oo?”

“Non, zat will not be necessary.” He looked around and cringed away from the walls. “I ‘ave no intention to ever be down ‘ere again. Zis is no place for ze best Spy zis war ‘as ever seen.”

The Pyro shrugged and gestured for the Spy to head back up the stairs. Before he followed he did a quick check, bathing the concrete walls and floors in flame, shook his head at the water, and left.

Aiden took that as a sign and left. Now was not the best time.




“And this is our infirmary,” the assistant Medic said to the three new men – a Spy and a Scout to replace their losses, plus a second Pyro. “We help as much as possible on the battlefield, but some things can – or need to- wait until post- skirmish. We take care of them here, along with the everyday sniffles.”

The Spy ran his gloved finger along the thin, plastic-covered mattress on the examination table, then turned to the head Medic, who was standing just beside his assistant.

“You run a clean shop, monsieur. It is a nice change from my last location.”

“Yeah, doc, this place ain’t half bad,” the Scout said as he hopped up onto the table and swung his legs.

“It is standard,” the assistant said. “If your last base was any less clean, you were living in squalour, I assure you.”

The Spy narrowed his eyes and then tilted his chin slightly up. The Scout was oblivious. The Pyro was bored.

“Well then. That’s the base,” the assistant went on. “If there is anything you need,-”

“Oh, I’m sure zat I can improvise if zere is somesing I need,” the Spy said before walking off.

The remaining four exchanged glances.

“Tht gys uh dk,” the Pyro said as he watched the Spy leave.

“A duck?” The Scout asked. “How d’you figure? I mean, maybe a frog, yeah –that’s a bit obvious, but-”

“A dick, boy,” the head Medic said as he shooed him off of the exam table. “He called him a dick. While his mannerisms are less than hospitable, he is our teammate and I expect you both to treat him as such. Now move along, get yourselves settled and hope that the enemy doesn’t attack today.”

The Pyro gave a quick, sloppy salute and turned to head up the ramp. The Scout was fast on his heels. Once they were out, the assistant shut and locked the door and turned the blue light on.

“Well?” he asked.

“The Pyro and Scout are idiots. The Spy seems just like any other Spy that’s come through here, perhaps a bit smarter than our last three or four. We can only hope, anyways.”

The assistant nodded and stared at the back door.

“You seem nervous.”

He looked over and shrugged.

“He is still lazy. Not one report all morning.”

“What good would a report have done while we were gone?” He cocked an eyebrow and donned his usual, unimpressed expression. The assistant shrugged and crossed his arms.

“I am just saying. He is still lazy.”

They stared at the door for a few more seconds and then sighed together.

“I am going upstairs for lunch,” the head Medic said. “Wait for him until I come back.”

With that he left. The assistant locked the door behind him and sighed.

Not ten minutes later there was the knock. He opened the door and stared down at Aiden.

“It’s about time. Get in here.”

Aiden started pushing himself in. In his bad mood, the Medic decided that he wasn’t moving fast enough and decided to give him some help.



Aiden hated the man that opened the door. Not that he particularly liked anyone else he knew (aside from Liam), but the assistant Medic has a special place in his list of people he hoped to one day kill.

He himself wasn’t in the best mood and didn’t feel like walking – the term that Doctor Lee had given to his form of transportation when his lower half was almost straight below him. It hurt his back to move like that, plus he felt slow and clumsy. So instead he pulled himself along like he usually did, his movements slower than usual from the dry surface but so much more natural feeling.

The first kick to his ribs came as a surprise and knocked the wind out of him. He would have cried out if he could.

“Faster. I don’t have all day!”

The urge to end the man’s pathetic life rose and it was all he could do to resist it. Everything in him was screaming for him to do it, to just drag him down and rip his everloving throat out.

Instead he gasped for breath and curled up on his side.

“Right now!”

Another kick, this one rolling him over. He shakily pushed himself up so that he could “walk” and hobbled over to the bench.

“Are you injured?”

“N-no.”

“Then you don’t sit there. On the floor, in front of me.”

The Medic sat down on a stool and pointed to the floor in front of him. Aiden let himself down and stared up at the man. He might have been able to hold back his need to destroy the man, but he couldn’t help but glare at him for all he was worth.

“If Loman asks you where those bruises came from, what will you tell him?” He asked as he crossed his arms.

“Loman?”

Another kick.

“My ‘boss.’ Your superior. If he asks, what do you say?”

Aiden was on the ground, wheezing. His mind was going a hundred miles an hour, trying to think of some excuse.

“Well?” He brought out the control. Panic welled up in Aiden and he sat up straighter.

“Wait, wait. I’m thinking.”

“Hm. A tough feat, I’m sure.”

Aiden held back a growl but bared his teeth all the same – more so from the pain in his side than anything.

“The…the door…that leads to the main tunnels,” he began, wincing with every breath. “I didn’t open it far enough and…when I was slipping in…it shut on my side…before I could catch it.”

“Hm. Well let’s hope it doesn’t sound as stupid to him as it does to me.” The boot came down again anyways, catching him in the sternum. He cried aloud and balled up on his side, resisting both the urge to kill the man and cry.

Someone started coming down the ramps that led to the infirmary. The Medic stood and went straight for the supplies cabinet.

“That is Loman now,” he said lowly, almost growling. He pulled out a chemical ice pack and pat the examination table. Aiden crawled up (with a little help from the Medic, whose hands felt like vices on his upper arms) and took the ice pack when it was offered.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Emil, it’s Loman.”

“I know, I know. Hold on a moment.”

He glared at Aiden for a few seconds and then unlocked the door. Loman came in and frowned at Aiden. He slammed the door shut behind him, locked it, and turned to face the other Medic.

“You will never again open that door when C-9 is in this room, do you understand me?” He was clearly enraged and looked as though he might smack the shorter, younger man.

“Yessir,” he said, his own anger replaced with fear. They both turned to Aiden and the older Medic frowned again.

“What happened to you?”

Aiden gave his story, all the while avoiding looking at the other Medic, who he could feel glaring at him.

“Hm. Be more careful,” he said as he opened a new ice pack and placed it to another bruise. He frowned and pressed against one lightly. Aiden winced.

“This is brand new. Did you run here after being injured?”

“Y… in a way. I have no ability to ‘run,’ but-”

“Of course, of course.” He took the pack away and felt lightly at his ribs, frown once more crossing his face when Aiden blanched. “I fear you may have cracked a few ribs, if this bruise is hurting you this badly. The best we could do to help is bind your chest, but then you run the risk of pneumonia. If we bound you, would you promise me to come up here every morning to change out the bandages and breathe without your lungs?”

He nodded and winced as the Medic felt over his side once more.

“Yes, something is certainly out of place.” He went to the supply closet and pulled out a long, rolled bandage. Both Medics proceeded to wrap his entire top half.

“Alright. C-9, please do not kill yourself on something as stupid as a door,” the head Medic said as he gently picked him up.

“I will try,” he muttered. “Might be a bit harder with the new Spy across the water.”

Both Medics exchanged glances.

“New Spy?” The assistant asked. “Are you sure?”

Aiden nodded.

“Were there any other new recruits?”

“None that I heard, heard of, or saw. Just the Spy. The Pyro was giving him a tour of the tunnels.”

“Hm.” The head Medic narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Let’s hope that he is not the Spy that Alain was speaking of. If he is, we may be in a fair deal of trouble.”

Aiden frowned.

“Alain is our new Spy. We also have a new Scout and Pyro. It is nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

He opened the back door and carried Aiden down the steps, then gently let him go into the water.

“Good job on that report, C-9,” he said, looking genuinely pleased. “Keep that up. But first rest your ribs. And come up if you need any pain killers.”

Aiden nodded, swam off a distance, and then looked behind him. The Medic was still there, watching. The man waved and Aiden couldn’t help but wave back before swimming off once more.



“You are quite the mother hen,” the assistant Medic said with an evil, toothy grin.

“And you are an idiot,” was the other Medic’s response as he turned the red light on and pointed to the wet mess that Aiden had left all over the infirmary. His assistant immediately started cleaning it up.

“I don’t see what the problem is. I knew it was you, and-”

“And you didn’t know that I didn’t have anyone else with-”

“AND I knew that you would have said something if you had someone else-”

“Not all situations allow for-”

There was a knock at the door. The head Medic walked over, donned his usual non-expression, and answered. A very scared greenhorn Scout stood behind it, face white, whole body shaking.

“What happened?” The Medic immediately asked. His assistant walked over.

“There’s a war going on upstairs,” he said.

The Medics paused and listened. Sure enough, with the door open, they could hear the gunfire and explosions above.

“Shit,” the assistant shouted as he pushed past the other two and headed up the ramp.

“Are you injured?” The head Medic asked as he grabbed the young man by the arm and looked him over.

He stared off at nothing.

“There’s a war going on upstairs,” he repeated. The Medic sighed.

“Sure there is.” He dragged him out of the infirmary, ran back in for his medigun and supplies, and locked the door behind him. “And you’re going to help me. Here, carry this.” He shoved a bag of medical supplies into the Scout’s hands and dragged him along.



The new RED Spy had started it. He said that he wanted to “gauge his enemy,” so, without saying anything else, he cloaked, strolled over to the BLU side, and disguised himself as the absent Demo (who was, at the time, passed out behind the compound). He walked right in and stumbled quite convincingly down to their intel room. After explaining to the Engie that he was just making sure he didn’t screw up, he stumbled out, saluted a Soldier, and continued outside. Halfway across the bridge he dropped his disguise, flipped the bird to the confused, curious watching teammates, and disappeared once more to re-enter his own base.

Needless to say, both teams were confused. Tiny took great offense to it and started firing at the RED side, trying to hit the Spy (and not succeeding). The RED’s Soldier started firing back and, soon enough, a full-on battle had begun.

The BLU’s new Scout saw Tiny take a Sniper shot to the shoulder (it had been aimed elsewhere, but the Demo had tackled the man, knocking the giant aside just enough to miss the killing shot). The moment the blood hit the ground, he froze. His own counterpart, who’d been watching from the safety of the front door, managed to drag him in just in time to avoid losing his head to four well-timed Sniper shots.

From there it got confusing. The RED Spy returned to the BLU side in order to take down their Snipers, one of which had nailed their only Medic with an impressive headshot. He made the mistake of bumping into the new BLU Spy. He had been operating under the assumption that BLU had no Spies left, and was a bit surprised. The two, old acquaintances, agreed to a duel. The duel was interrupted when the BLU’s new Pyro burst in, lighting the RED Spy on fire. He tore his jacket off, ran outside, and jumped into the waters of the canal.

The battle lasted all day. The RED Scout made a few attempts at the BLU intel (it seemed natural – after all, everyone was distracted) but ended up running into a few too many prepared BLU’s. The first time, a sentry parked right next to the briefcase. The second time, a stumbling drunk Demo with a broken bottle. The third time, a BLU Sniper shot to the foot. He managed to escape by falling into the canal and swimming and limping his way back through his tunnels.

It ended just past sundown when both teams succumbed to a few basic needs. The RED team, minus a Medic, gradually retreated to their infirmary to try and figure out how to treat their own wounds. The unwounded few made dinner and a few scratched, bumped others just went to sleep.

On the BLU side, the Medics were busy tending to their own wounded while the new Pyro showed surprising aptitude in cooking.

Despite the fact that they had just been beating each other’s skulls in, both teams felt the mutual ‘no more fighting’ agreement that had gone unsaid. There were only a few people left firing by the end of it, and they were easily coaxed in by a few warning shots from the Snipers (who were, at that point, out of coffee).

After that, quiet.



The RED Spy poked at his dinner. He’d made it himself, but wasn’t sure that the ingredients he’d used were all that edible. What exactly was in government meat, anyways?

“You gonna’ eat that?” their Scout asked as he limped in. The Spy didn’t look at the young man. Instead he took a bite, chewed, swallowed, shrugged, and kept eating.

“Fine.” He hobbled to the fridge and started making his own dinner.

“Hy,” Liam said as he entered the kitchen. “St dn, eh’ll ck.”

The Scout nodded and let out a sigh of relief as he flopped down at the kitchen table.

“H’d oo fx ur ft?”

The Scout looked down and shrugged.

“Used to be an EMT before I came here.”

“O sht?”

“No shit. I liked the excitement, but not the responsibility.” The Spy snorted and kept eating. “I mean, yeah, I got stuff here. I get the intel. It’s my job. But it’s just me. I’m not responsible for anyone else’s life.”

While the Scout talked, the Pyro nodded and diced a few onions. He found a few slightly wrinkled bell peppers and tomatoes, sniffed them, shrugged, and chopped them up as well. He threw them and some of the ground “beef” into a frying pan with some “food-grade vegetable-based oil product.” In a separate pot he boiled water and then went about searching for a bag of egg noodles that he knew was lying around.

“Yeah,” the Scout went on. “It was weird when everyone else saw me patching up myself and asked for help. It was like I had the old uniform back on. It came back naturally and bam- I was in the back of an ambulance and there was no war and-”

“So good to know zat we will not be entirely useless wizout a Medic,” the Spy said as he stood and brought his plate to the sink. “Perhaps you should consider going full time, since you are useless as a Scout.”

With that, he left. The Pyro dropped the noodles into the pot of water and started stirring them.

“On’ lstn t im. Oo’v un ur shr.”

“Yeah…yeah.”

He rested his head on the table and waited while the Pyro cooked.

“Man, I miss my girl,” he muttered. “Ey’ Pyro, you got a girl back home?”

The firebug chuckled and shook his head.

“’m gy.”

Silence. Neither of the two said anything for a while. A few people passed by and asked to be notified when dinner was ready. Nothing was said until the Pyro started draining the noodles.

“Well sure you are. You get locked up with fifteen other men for a few years and you have no choice but to pound a little ass. Keeps you from going insane. Doesn’t make you a fag, though.”

Liam pulled down a plate and spooned on some noodles and the beef mixture. He handed it over to the Scout, made some for himself, sat down, and pulled his mask to just over his nose.

For a while they just ate. With a few bites still left on the plate, the Scout started pushing at the remains and sighed.

“I mean, right?” He pushed the plate away as a few other people limped, walked, and sleepily stumbled in.

Liam shrugged.

“Don’t know. It’s never been like that for me.” He took a bite.

“So…so what. You’re tempted all the time the same way I would be if I were surrounded by chicks?”

Liam frowned and shook his head.

“Doesn’t work like that. I don’t like all guys. I’m not just looking for a quick ‘ass pounding.’” He took another bite. Everyone else in the room either stared or made an effort to look away.

“Then what? Like, you want one of us for a legit relationship?”

Liam sighed.

“If you saw two girls standing side by side, both beautiful in their own rights –physically and characteristically- but very different, would you be attracted to both equally?”

The Scout shrugged and shuffled uneasily.

“Idunno. I mean, I guess I always was attracted to redheads. And they have to be smart. I hate those bimbos that go around-”

“See that? Right there? That’s me. Only with guys. Just because I’m surrounded by them doesn’t mean I’m attracted to all of them.”

He continued eating. The Scout made a low “hmph” and had a comprehending look on his face. He passed the remains of his plate to a nearby Heavy and crossed his arms.

“So…so what’re you attracted to?”

Liam shrugged, finished his plate, and stood.

“Nobody in this base, that’s for sure.”

He pulled the mask back down over his face, tipped a quick salute to the room, and left.

The silence after he left was awkward. After a few minutes of uncomfortable shuffling, the Soldier muttered something about how he missed his wife. There were a few mumbling agreements about missed girlfriends, fiancés, even another admittance to having a boy waiting for him back home. By the end of the night they were drunk off of their old Demo’s stash, toasting him and their loved ones, and crying.

The scene across the water was considerably quieter. BLU hadn’t lost any men, but the Medics were busy patching up their team members. The new Pyro cooked dinner and they ate in silence.

Aiden listened from the tunnels (which had remained fairly empty during the fight). When it was over he was relieved to find that he couldn’t smell any of Liam’s blood in the air. He was safe.

With that in mind, he retreated back to his own tunnels and tried to sleep. With three broken ribs and the water in his tunnels receding faster by the hour, it was something he never managed to accomplish that night.

XII

Aiden lay down on his back in the shallows at the base of the stairs and stared. He was watching through the water at the wavering red light above him, breathing the water, and hoping that Emil (that was what the other doctor – Loman?- called him, right?) wasn’t there when the light finally changed to blue.

He waited for hours.

It was almost noon when the light finally switched on. He was going to sit up when the door opened and the head Medic stepped out. Aiden sighed, quite relieved that the assbag Medic wasn’t there, and sat up slowly.

“Good morning, C-9,” the Medic said as he pulled a bandage out of his coat pocket. He looked exhausted.

“G’morning, sir,” Aiden mumbled back as he started unraveling the wet bandage around his chest. The Medic brushed his hands away and did it himself.

“Are you okay? You look tired.”

“Didn’t sleep. Hurt too much.” He wanted to ask the man why he was so tired, but the idea of asking him such a personal question might be going beyond a certain boundary.

“Hm. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to give you any painkillers. It was a busy night.”

“So it…sounded.” He winced and gasped as the Medic began checking his bruises and re-wrapping his chest.

“Yes, well, we didn’t lose anyone, and that’s what mattered.” He turned and yawned, then resumed wrapping. He finished, rolled up the old one, and stood up straight. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a handful of pills.

“Here,” he said as he handed four of the pills over. “Take these now.” He poured the rest of the pills back in the bottle while Aiden ducked back under to swallow the pills. Once he was up again the Medic handed over the whole bottle. “Keep these in case I can’t get to you when these wear off.”

Both heads turned to look up at the sound of someone knocking on the main door to the infirmary. The Medic sighed and started heading up.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said lowly as he plodded tiredly up the steps. “Come up if you need anything.”

With that he was gone and Aiden felt an odd sort of absence. He suddenly remembered being a ‘normal’ boy in Louisiana, forced to speak French in the presence of his parents and grandparents, eating seven-course meals from dinnerware that cost as much as an average family’s food did in a year, being tutored by a man who was afraid of him and his parents’ money. He was Marcel then. His father wanted nothing to do with him unless it involved a discussion about how he was going to become a surgeon. And when he scratched a palm or broke a finger or sprained a wrist, there was first this intense anger over his carelessness, and then an even more intense fear that his hands would be irreparably damaged along with his chances for being a surgeon. The fear had always instilled the closest thing to love that Marcel had ever gotten from his father. He doted over him, making sure he always had something – painkiller, something to reduce any potential swelling, a scribe to take notes for him during class so that he didn’t overstrain his hands. Anything. And when he’d leave –for work, for dinner (as Marcel wasn’t allowed out of his room for anything when he was injured), for anything at all, the boy cried because he knew that soon enough he would be healed and his father would lose interest in him and he wanted those moments when he cared to last forever.

Aiden didn’t feel like crying as the Medic left, but he certainly felt a faint sort of attachment to the man, even though his interest seemed to wax and wane with his various injuries.

He didn’t want to think about it, though. The last thing he needed was to feel attached to this man in any way. Instead of lingering on the thought, he hauled himself over to the platform. He searched around until he found a crack in the wall big enough and high enough to hide the pills in, then let himself sink back down to his sleeping area. It was now just under three feet deep and growing shallower.

Something will have to be done about that, he thought to himself as he drifted off. Don’t want to dry out, now. Not again. Not like last time.



This was a cycle that went on for at least a week. With injuries on both sides, – and no real Medic on RED- both teams were reluctant to start anything. This meant that the BLU Medics were free to check in on Aiden whenever they pleased. Loman did most of the work, obsessive as he was, and the feeling of ‘fatherly attachment’ that Aiden felt only grew stronger with every checkup (much to his chagrin).

His disappointment only grew when, after a week, the bandages were removed for the last time.

“You are looking much better,” he said as Aiden took a hesitant breath. He was expecting immense pain, but all he felt was an odd pressure. He looked down. The bruises were still there, though now they were sickly shades of yellow, but he supposed anything was better than the dark, painful marks that had covered his entire torso the week before.

“I feel better,” he said as he tentatively pressed his hands to the bruises. A bit achy where the ribs were still healing, but otherwise fine. He took in and let out a deep breath and was quite relieved to find very little pain.

“Very good.” He stood and pocketed the old bandages. “I expect you to be across the canal as soon as possible. Our new Spy is doing well enough, but he says they’ve put new defenses in their tunnels and he can’t get by them without setting off alarms.” He turned around to head up the stairs, but paused. “Do not get yourself killed, C-9. But do not disappoint me, either. You were expensive and you have yet to prove your worth.”

And then he was gone, taking with him that budding feeling of ‘fatherly attachment.’ Most of Aiden was glad to finally be rid of that stupid, useless emotion, but there was most definitely a part of him that wanted to crawl into his non-bed and just cry like Marcel had cried all those years ago.

Instead he swam through the tunnels, pulled on a shirt and waistcoat, and then crossed over to the RED waters. He wanted to know what this new defense was.



“Good girl,” the RED Engineer purred at the level three sentry underneath the stairs. Another level three beeped around the corner. Yet another stood at the top of the stairs.

Liam and the other Pyro were taking turns running through the tunnels, bathing them in fire. They were doing that throughout much of the base, but for some reason their new Spy wanted them to concentrate on the subterranean areas of the base. Nobody was going to argue against the man – he was a vet, an old war dog who knew exactly what he was doing. Or so he said.

Nobody was much in the mood to argue – constantly spewing fire over everything certainly assuaged their fears of a BLU retaliation to match their own attack the week before.

Unfortunately, not only did they not catch any Spies, but it was wearing out the Pyros and their resources. Gas resupplies only came so often.

“Ths s bllsht,” Liam said grumpily to himself as he made yet another pass through the tunnels that morning. His tank was running near empty and the next refill was their last until next week. They’d had to send a letter to headquarters demanding at least one new Medic and enough fuel for their flamethrowers to last until the next standard resupply.

They were still waiting for the return letter. Or the supplies.

“Keep at it,” the Engineer shouted from the other side of the tunnel. “H’aint caught us a Spy yet, but that means they ain’t tried nothing. They’re scared!”

“M rnng ut uf gs!”

“More supplies and the Medic comin’ this afternoon! Well, here’s hoping anyways.”

“Ths stll s bllsht.”

He laughed and Liam kept walking, tiredly stumbling, several times nearly falling into the water.

Once he was past the last sentry and around the corner, he stopped for a break. He sat on the ledge and stretched out as well as he could (which wasn’t very well, given his size.)

“You look tired,” Aiden said. The Pyro jumped to his feet in an instant and had his flamethrower at the ready. He pulled and…

“SHT! M OWTA GS!” He pulled his axe and started hacking at the air. Aiden ducked down and watched the giant Pyro do his best to destroy the air.

He almost caught his fellow Pyro with the axe twice – first on accident when the smaller man rounded the tunnel corner, and again when he thought he was a spy.

“Hy, chll ut, mn. Whs rng?”

“Sw a Sph. Eh swr t.”

The other Pyro cranked up his flamethrower and spread the flames around the entire tunnel. He ran down the area, into the nearby tunnels, and even the surface of the water, before returning to Liam.

“No Sph. O gt sm seep.”

“Yh…shd oo at…n a bt. Gnna chk ot th tnnls fr bt lngr, jst t be shr.”

“Sut yrsf.”

They waved and went separate ways, Liam keeping to that tunnel, the other Pyro headed back upstairs.

“Does Aven ever get jealous of the axe when you hack around at the air like that?”

Liam jumped and looked around.

“Down here, Liam.”

He looked down, axe in hand, unable to comprehend for a few moments.

“O. Adn. Tht oo wr th othr BU Sph.”

“No, only me. No threat here.”

“Ths nt wht I mnt.” He sat down again and leaned back.

“You look tired.”

“Ah m trd.”

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to take a break somewhere private, could I?”

“Wy?”

He shrugged. “No reason. It’s been a while since I last dragged you halfway to your death and I was hoping that you were missing it at least half as much as I am.”

The Pyro chuckled, sighed, then got to his feet.

“Sty n RD sde?”

“Of course. Follow me.”



Liam sat, mask up to just below his hairline, on the platform. The setup of the RED tunnels under its infirmary was identical to the BLU one. There were a few blocked tunnels on this side, but they only proved beneficial to Aiden as they had blocked the flow of the water and made the area by the platform a bit deeper than his own.

“So how’ve you been, Aiden?”

He shrugged and repositioned himself so that just his lower half was in the water. His arms were folded on the platform and he rest his chin on them.

“Things are calm,” he said as he picked at a piece of lint on his shirt. “At least for me. I am not so sure about the rest of my ‘team.’”

“Heh, I guess not. So that guy really didn’t tell anyone else about you?”

“No. There is one other Medic who outranks him, but that’s it.”

“Hm.” The man shut his eyes and slid down a bit so that his booted feet were not too far from Aiden’s face. “Does he treat you better than the other guy?”

Aiden shrugged again and started picking at the rocks on the underside of Liam’s boots.

“He has done nothing to hurt me,” he said as he threw a pebble over his shoulder. “He is in no way a friend, but…yes. He treats me much better than the other Medic does.”

“Good, goo- what are you doing down there?” He turned his feet and peered at Aiden through the V they made. He cocked an eyebrow and smiled.

Aiden couldn’t help but smile back as he picked out another pebble and tossed it aside.

“C’mere,” Liam said as he reached over. Aiden immediately backed up and started ducking down. “No, c’mon, this is stupid.” He grabbed him by the upper arms and hauled him up and out of the water, despite Aiden’s struggles and growls. “’m not having a conversation with a guy who’s staring at the underside of my boots.” Aiden stopped squirming and let the larger man haul him back and next to him. “There.”

They looked at each other. With his lower half stretched out in front of him, Aiden came almost to the larger man’s shoulder. Almost.

“So,” Liam went on as he looked down at the mass of tentacles stretched not too far from his own legs, “are you…okay? After…after that guy?”

A few of the limbs made their way to Liam’s leg and started wrapping around it. Aiden didn’t seem to notice as he zoned out and shrugged.

“It has happened before. It will happen again. There is nothing I can do to stop it.” His voice was flat and distant.

Liam frowned. “Big, man-eating monster like you can’t stop a guy like that? I find that hard to believe.”

“He has a control. And I have a…I don’t know, a chip or something. They use the control to shock me. It makes sure I do what they tell me to.”

The grip around Liam’s leg tightened and he shifted a bit.

“That’s stupid,” the Pyro muttered. Aiden nodded and said nothing else. He knew that Liam was looking at the tentacles, and it was making him fidgety.

“So…so how’d they…I mean…” Liam paused, then sighed. “Nevermind, ‘s not my business.”

“If I knew, I’d tell you,” Aiden said as he brought up one of the limbs and starting picking at one of the cups on the underside.

“Seems kinda personal. Don’t know why you’d tell me,” he muttered. “Honestly having issues trying to figure out why you tell me anything. I feel like I should have been dead at least a week ago. Not that I’m complaining.”

Aiden shrugged and put the tentacle aside. It started lazily crawling over the Pyro’s midsection.

“When you are in my position, people who aren’t doctors and who are willing to talk without screaming are few and far between. You are the first.”

“Oh. Well yeah, I guess everyone needs company, even…whatever you are, right?”

He shrugged again and watched as the Pyro’s gloves gave down around the limb on his belly and started fiddling with it. Aiden twitched faintly, but didn’t say anything.

“So how…how sensitive are these things?” he asked as he turned the tentacle in his hands. Aiden pushed a few more over and shuffled closer.

“It varies,” he said as he started pushing them higher, up Liam’s chest and onto the neck of his suit where the mask connected when it was down. The Pyro went still as one went down inside and started wrapping loosely around his neck. He glanced over and was a bit surprised to see that Aiden didn’t seem to notice what he was doing.

“How much control do you have over them?” he asked as the limb went deeper.

“Enough,” Aiden said. “They feel odd. Sometimes it is as though they have a mind of their own, but the moment I consciously tell them to do something they respond correctly.”

“So…so this thing that’s going on right now…is this them having a mind of their own, or what?”

Aiden looked over and blushed. “My apologies,” he said as he withdrew all of the limbs but the one the other man had in his hands.
“Naw, it’s okay,” Liam said as he shifted a bit. “No harm, right? And besides, it didn’t feel all that bad. Just…wasn’t sure I wanted a thing with a mind of its own wrapping around my neck.”

Aiden nodded and looked to the side.

“So…got any girls waiting back home?” Liam asked awkwardly. Aiden looked over with a glare. “Well, hey, it’s been the discussion topic of the week over here. Just trying to keep you up with the current events topside. Our Solly’s got a wife he hasn’t seen in ten years. Gets letters every week. Said things have been rough lately since her sister’s man came home last month.” He started poking a suction cup, sliding his finger up and down it when it grabbed onto his glove, then pulled it away only to get it –and another the rest of the hand –stuck again as the tentacle curled around it and held tight.

“No, I don’t have anyone,” Aiden said as he watched the hand trying to pull out of his grasp. “I had a few girlfriends, but they never worked out. Then I came here and… well, they say that a man will turn to certain things when he doesn’t see a woman for a few years…and I was no exception.” He brought up another limb and started messing with it. “And then I met Etienne and it started being a bit less about fucking a bit more about a legitimate relationship.” He pushed tentacle away, released the grip on the Pyro’s glove, and sat up a bit straighter, pulling a number of the tentacles underneath himself.

“Hey, I can respect that,” Liam said as he took off a glove and started fiddling with the lib with his bare hand.

“What about you?” Aiden asked as he let the tentacle wrap itself about the Pyro’s wrist.

“I try to let my job speak for me.”

Aiden frowned. Liam grinned.

“’m a natural-born flamer, man.”

He laughed and Aiden rolled his eyes.

“That was bad.”

“Don’t I know it?” He still grinned.

Aiden started fiddling with his waistcoat, which kept riding up, and cursed under his breath when he saw that the shirt underneath it wasn’t buttoned correctly. He took off the vest, turned away from Liam, and started unbuttoning it. The taller man looked over, catching a brief glance, and then stared. Aiden stopped unbuttoning, looked up, and glared as hard as he could.

While a look like that from him might’ve stopped any other person in their tracks, Liam just pulled at the Spy until he was facing him and frowned.

“What happened?” he was looking at the yellow bruises that covered most of his chest. He unbuttoned the rest of the shirt for him and pushed it aside.

“Oh. Things,” Aiden said as he re-aligned his shirt and tried to rebutton it.

“No, no, hold on.” Liam brushed the hands away and ran his bare fingers down Aiden’s side. “The big one’s from me, I know a compression blast to the chest when I see it. But this-” Aiden gasped as the hand came to his bruised ribs. “That wasn’t me,” he muttered. “What happened?”

“We are at war. Injuries happen.”

Liam kept looking him over. Aiden tried once more to button his shirt, but the Pyro just grabbed his hands and held them down.

“You’re avoiding the question,” he said as a few tentacles came up and tried to pry the man’s hands away from his own.

“I am not.”

“So what happened?”

Aiden growled, then gave up.

“He kicked me. It’s no big-”

The hands were released. Liam was in a killing mood – it was written all over his face.

“I need to go,” he said as he stood. Aiden kept buttoning and then threw his waistcoat on. “I…idunno. I need to just take a walk or something.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just pissed.” He picked up the useless flamethrower and hefted it over his shoulder. “Just…hey. Come back tonight? Whenever you can? I’ll try to drop in when everyone else is asleep.”

“Sure,” he said as he pushed forward and slipped into the water. “Don’t…don’t kill anyone, okay?”

The Pyro made a non-committal noise as he pulled on his glove. “Can’t guarantee that,” he said as he started heading for the door. Aiden followed. “This is a war, after all.” He waited for Aiden to cloak and then opened the door. Once he heard the Spy drop down into the deeper waters beyond, he followed and shut the door as quietly as he could.

“HEY PYRO!”

He looked down the tunnel. Nobody.

“PYYYYY-ROOOOOH!”

They were looking for him. He sighed, pulled his mask down, and headed down the tunnel.

“M ovr heer!”



“Well?”

“Sentries, three of them,” Aiden said as the Medic examined his bruises.

“Anything else?”

“The Engineer refuses to leave them and the Pyros are doing constant checks through the tunnels and the rest of the base.”

“Hm. They will run out of gas soon.”

“They already have,” he said, and then immediately regretted it. The Medic’s face lit up (at least as much as the man’s face could light up, as expressionless as he generally was.

“Oh?”

“Almost. One Pyro ran out just as I was arriving. The other seems to have bit more. I believe I overhead the Engineer saying something about how the new emergency supplies should be coming in today, along with a new Medic.”

“Hm.” The Medic nodded and Aiden started buttoning his shirt up again. “Well, good work. I’d been hoping that they wouldn’t get a new Medic for a while, but it seems that their own headquarters work a little faster than our own. Unfortunately.” He frowned and then looked down at Aiden, who was fiddling with a tentacle.

“But that is unimportant,” he went on. “If you have nothing else to report, then you are free to leave.”

Aiden shook his head and pushed off of the table. He made his was to the door, opened it himself, and left. The Medic watched him leave, locked the door behind him, and turned the red light on.

It's official. This fic is awesome and so are you. Thank you for an update and a good read. *sits in a corner waiting for the next chapter*

>>7131
The relationship between pyro and spy are just adorable beyond belief. I just have this horrible feeling about the next couple chapters though..

Thanks for all the responses! Part XIII is coming soon and I promise nothing 'horrible' is going to happen.

XIII

Later that afternoon the BLUs tried to launch an offensive against the REDs before their new supplies and Medic came in. They made the plans – send in the new Spy to disable the sentries, have Jake and the new Scout head for the intel, and follow with support from the Demo, Heavies, and Soldiers.

It looked good enough on paper, but the moment that it was suggested that Jake and the new Scout head across, the veteran Scout started shaking his head and refused to listen to any more of it. He and his brother had been a team. He worked with nobody else.

They entertained the idea of sending one Scout in – probably Jake – first and then the second one if he had to drop the intelligence for any reason. It was shot down when it was noted that their newest Scout was fairly useless at his job.

From there the conversation degraded into questions as to why they only had one sentry, and that their Pyros should be doing more checks more often now because the REDs had a new Spy too, and what if someone here was a Spy, and why was the Demo still passed out in the back yard, and so on. It went on for hours and by the time it was done it was dark. They gave up, agreed that they all hoped that the REDs didn’t get their emergency delivery that day, and decided to go ahead and send Jake out tomorrow if there was no sign of the new Medic across the water.



Aiden had gone back to the RED tunnels after visiting the Medic and did his job. He listened to the Engineer talk to his sentries (and sometimes his team mates when they passed by) and waited for news about the delivery. At one point the BLU Spy popped in, disguised as the limping RED Scout, and had a conversation about the sentries. The Engineer was glad to talk about them for upwards an hour, unknowingly giving his enemy a good deal of information that he probably wouldn’t want him to know.

Other than that, the rest day went by slowly and without event for Aiden. He’d found a blind spot of sorts in the tunnels that allowed him to float, eyes and ears above the surface, uncloaked and out of sight of the sentries and their Engineer.

It was, above everything, incredibly boring. And tiring. He couldn’t let himself sink to the bottom, which meant that he was constantly moving his lower half to keep him at the surface.

By the time night came around, he was tired and grumpy. This was stupid. He’d heard nothing about the delivery and Liam hadn’t stopped down all day. And Aiden knew that he wouldn’t for a good while longer, since he had to wait for everyone else to go to bed first.

Rather than wait in the tunnels between the sentries, Aiden cloaked and headed for the back channels under the infirmary. At least there he could wait without tiring himself any further.

In fact, he did quite the opposite. After settling into the corner of water by the platform, he quickly drifted off to sleep. He stayed out until he heard the door opening and someone splashing heavily through the water. He cloaked and peeked out from the surface, then dropped the disguise when he saw an exhausted Liam plodding along with a few bottles in his hands.

“Hy,” he said as he saw Aiden appear. “Wr oo seepng?”

“A bit.” He watched the Pyro settle on the platform and gestured toward the bottles. “What are these?”

“Scmpy!” He popped open a bottle and pushed it over before pulling his mask up to his hairline. Aiden hauled himself onto the platform and pulled the bottle over. He sniffed it and scrunched up his face.

“This smells like that Demo I ate,” he muttered as he took a small sip.

“Yeah, we found his stash last week. There’s so much. I don’t know where he got it all.” He popped open the second bottle and started drinking it. “Oh man, but that’s good. It’s terrible, but it’s good.” He closed his eyes and smiled.

Aiden downed a mouthful of it and grimaced.

“I get the terrible, but not the good.”

Liam chuckled. “Not much of a drinker?”

“Brandy.”

“Ah. Well, my apologies if I offend your taste buds by bringing in such terrible swill,” he said, gesticulating and sticking his nose in the air as he spoke. He broke out into sniggers afterwards and downed another mouthful.

“How much did you have before you got here?” Aiden asked as he sipped at his own bottle again. (Yes, it was terrible, but he wasn’t sure when the opportunity to get drunk would come up again.)

“Oh, ‘bout half a bottle. Snagged it from the other Pyro. Poor boy was passed out. Lightweight.” He drank more and Aiden watched for a bit before drinking some more himself.

They went on like that in silence, both drinking and forgetting their respective problems until Liam’s bottle was empty and Aiden, still with half a bottle, simply couldn’t drink any more.

“Lightweight,” Liam said as he dragged the bottle over and proceeded to finish it off. Aiden sniggered and watched as his tentacles twined against themselves.

“Well what’d you expect?” he asked as he looked down at himself. “We can’t all be built like…like Heavies. Minus the morbid obesity.” He leaned forward and playfully tugged at the neck of the Pyro’s suit. “At least you don’t look like it. ‘s hard to tell with this thing.”

Liam chuckled and reached down and pulled off the bandolier of flare cartridges strapped to his chest. He put it aside and then zipped down the front of his flame-retardant suit. He pulled the suit aside and looked up at Aiden.

“See? No morbid obesity.” He pulled up the undershirt, exposing a flat, white belly, and grinned. “’s been a while since anyone else’s seen this, though. Hell, I don’ see much ‘f myself.” He pulled off his gloves and then pulled the rest of the top half of the suit off. He looked over his sweaty, pale arms and turned around to try and get a glance of his back.

Aiden’s face was burning under his balaclava. His lower half writhed more against itself and he couldn’t help but twitch now and again.

“Hey,” Liam said as he leaned forward over the Spy, “take off yer thing, would ya?”

Aiden frowned and backed away a bit. Two large, pale hands descended on his face and started tugging at his balaclava.

“Hey, stop that,” Aiden said as he tried to pull it back down.

“I showed you, now you show me.”

“S’pose that’s a good point,” Aiden said as he let up. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

There was a brief pause before the both started laughing. Liam ripped the balaclava up and kept sniggering. The laughs died down as he took in the entirety of Aiden’s face.

“Always had a thing for French guys,” he said, wide smile still plastered across his face. Aiden had just enough time to wonder what that meant before he suddenly felt the Pyro’s lips pressed against his own. He first winced as his lips were pressed in against his teeth, and then relaxed as the other man let up and mumbled his apologies.

“’sokay,” he replied as his face reddened further. He looked down and fidgeted as Liam cleared his throat and reached up to pull back his mask. He put it aside as Aiden stared at the thick, disheveled mess of reddish brown hair. He ran a hand through it, trying to neaten it, but his fingers only ended up a part of the tangle. Aiden laughed and reached up to help. In the process he ended up inches from the other man’s face.

Liam did not waste the opportunity. He pushed forward and once more pressed his lips to Aiden’s, this time much gentler. The Spy made a soft sound and pulled back, at the same time pulling his hands away.

“We shouldn’t be-”

“Shush.” The Pyro leaned forward again and pressed their lips together. His hands went down, gently took the Spy by the shoulders, and pushed him down to the cement.

“Liam, please…”

The man pulled away again and leaned their foreheads together.

“’m not gonna’ hurt you,” he said as his hands went down and started unbuttoning the waistcoat. “Promise.”

“Liam, we can’t…I can’t… if you are caught…”

He was once more silenced by the lips against his. Liam started unbuttoning his shirt.

Aiden couldn’t help but wrap a few of his tentacles around the other man’s waist and legs. Liam made an approving sound and pulled away, once more leaning his forehead against Aiden’s while they breathed.

“If you ask me again,” he said as he gently lifted the Spy and pulled the top half of his own suit between his back and the cement, “I’ll stop. I don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed his nose. “Don’ wanna’ hurt you,” he muttered.

Aiden only lightly kissed back as he wrapped his arms around the larger man’s neck. The Pyro made another approving sound and started pulling off his belt and the lower half of his suit. Once his boxers were around his knees, he pulled one hand down and started running it over the other man’s lower limbs.

Aiden responded by wrapping even more of said limbs around Liam’s waist and legs. The larger man kept running his hands over the base of the tentacles, occasionally slipping between them. On one such occasion, his hand went a bit further and his finger caught the lip of the orifice there.

“Yer not secretly a girl, are you?” Liam said with a grin as he pressed his cheek to the other man’s chest.

“I asked the same thing,” Aiden mumbled before shuddering. “No. But it’s sensitive.” He shivered again and moaned as the hand pressed in further.

“Oh. D’you want me to stop?”

“N...no.”

“You hesitated.” He lifted his head and looked down at Aiden. “I told you, if you ask me again, I’ll stop.”

Aiden leaned up and pecked the man on the lips in response. The Pyro grinned, repositioned himself a bit, removed his hand, and pressed himself into the Spy.

Aiden gasped and tightened his grip on the larger man’s waist while Liam slowly rocked into him. He lasted about a minute before the wave of ecstasy overcame him, sending him moaning, twisting, and squirming. It lasted as long as Liam was in him. When he finally came (quietly – he didn’t make a single sound) and pulled away a few minutes later, Aiden collapsed, panting, back onto the cement.

He suddenly felt hot and dry. Liam rolled to his side and tried to pull Aiden over against him, but he struggled.

“Liam…water…I need… I…”

The Pyro, instead of letting him go, pulled him tighter to himself and shuffled over to the edge before letting himself fall into the water. Aiden started gasping it in, switching to his gills, and shut his eyes.

Tall as he was, and shallow as the water was, Liam’s head stuck just above the water even though he was sitting on the bottom. Aiden was stretched out over him, head resting on his chest just under the surface.

After a while, when the panic of needing water wore off, Aiden let himself drift off. Liam had been half asleep as well when he felt something odd on his chest.

He reached down and ran his hands over Aiden’s face and neck. It felt like it was coming from-

He grinned and chuckled.

“Sonovabitch is purring,” he mumbled to himself. “Who’da thought.”



The next morning was confusing on all sides.

“Why are you so wet?” the RED Scout had asked Liam as he stumbled in very early the next morning. The young man had been sleeping on the couch with the TV on.

“Gt drnk n th tnnl,” Liam said as he held up the two empty bottles. “Fll nto th wtr.”

“Oh. Well don’t do that. If we lose you, we’re screwed. That other Pyro sucks.”

Liam chuckled and saluted the Scout as he stumbled back to his room.

Across the canal, the head Medic stood on the bottom step for a while and finally walked through the waters to where Aiden usually slept.

Nothing.

He called for the Spy a few more times and waited.

Nothing.

He’d been about to head back for the control (a small shock should bring him back, surely) when he heard the door to the main tunnels open and close.

Aiden came into view and the Medic relaxed.

“C-9, where have you been?” he asked as he folded his arms.

Aiden hadn’t been expecting to see the Medic in the ankle-high waters and jumped.

“Oh. Across the canal. I was waiting to listen for any news on the new shipment and I drifted off.”

The Medic frowned.

“It was deep water. They couldn’t see me. I couldn’t see the surface. It was deep enough.”

“Hm. Well as long as you’re okay.”

Aiden cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“Well then…go sleep, then. I expect you to try and take down some sentries this afternoon. Our Spy has heard that they’re going to cover their base with them.”

Aiden nodded and watched as the Medic turned and headed for the stairs.

Once the other man was gone, he let out a sigh of relief and sank down into the deeper waters where he slept.

He’s losing his objectivity, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes. This could be quite exploitable. He smiled and drifted off wondering how he would use this fact to his advantage.

...Consensual sex? With a Tentaspy?

<3

Oui. Consensual drunken sex with a Tentaspy.

oh my goddd

I LOVE THIS

totally freakin' out here. I love this SO much!!!! so. very. foking. much.

Just finished reading this in one go.

I cannot fucking WAIT for the next update, and rarely do I get this worked up over a fanfiction. Bitchin'.

SWEET SWEET TENTACLE LOVE!

Oof, I hope they go a bit slower next time. And I hope Liam chops that asshole Medic into little bits and feeds them to Aiden.

XIV

Liam groaned as someone pounded on his door.

“Hey, Pyro.” It was Scout. “It’s freaking noon, man. Supplies are in. Come meet the new Medic.”

“’m up,” he mumbled as he sat up and stretched. He felt better than he had in years. Which was weird, since he’d also drank more than he had in years, and couldn’t remember what happened the night before.

He stood, pulled off his dirty undershirt, and pulled on a new one.

“Dude, you coming?”

He opened the door and looked out, squinting in the bright light filtering through the windows. The look on the Scout’s face was priceless.

“Dude. Crazy hair.”

“Hm. Oh.” He tried to comb it with his fingers, but only ended up making it worse. “Ah, doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah…hey, hurry and snag your share before the other Pyro does. He’s pissed right now. Said he had to cover your Spycheck shift this morning and will take your share if you don’t come soon.”

Liam groaned again and nodded with a yawn.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Go guard it for me?”

“Nah, ‘m meeting the new guy. He’s AWEsome.”

With that he was off. Liam yawned again and pulled on clean underwear, then started putting on his suit.

Once dressed, he hauled his flamethrower downstairs and headed out back to where the canisters of fuel were waiting for him.

“About time,” the Soldier mumbled. “I was instructed to guard this from the other Pyro. He is not happy.”

“Yh, so eh ws tld. Wl, thks.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The Soldier headed out, grumbling while Liam started hauling in the ammo.

Once it was all in, he loaded his flame thrower and ran his hands down it.

“Fls bttr, dsnt t, Avn?”

“Do you always talk to your weapon?”

Liam turned around and frowned at the Spy in the doorway.

“Zey say zat you were out all night.” The Spy lit a cigarette. “Where did you go?”

Liam blinked a few times and shrugged.

“Dn rmmbr.” He fiddled with his flamethrower. “Srsly. Ah rmmbr gttn drnk, thn nthng.” He scratched the back of his head. “Bt eh thnk I hd uh drm abt fcking n octps.”

“Zat is more zan I needed to know.” He took a drag from the cigarette. “In any event, per’aps you should learn to check yourself before running away to ze sewers.”

Liam froze.

“Wt dd oo see?”

The Spy shrugged.

“I saw you go down. I listened to you go very deep into ze tunnels. I heard a door. You are lucky zat I refuse to go down zere.” He brushed at his jacket and shrugged again. “In any event, I am going to venture a guess and say zat whatever you did was against protocol. Getting drunk and passing out in ze sewers iz all well and good when it does not affect your performance. But now ze ozer Pyro is in a terrible mood from having to cover your shift and his performance is lacking. Which means zat, as far as I am concerned, we now ‘ave two useless Pyros.” He took another drag and walked in further so that he was inches from the Pyro. “I could ‘ave left zis madness. Instead I chose to ‘elp out a zis poor excuse for a team. I did not ‘ave high hopes from ze ozers, but your records gave me hope. Do not disappoint me, boy, or I will take zem up on ze offer to leave and I promise you will regret my leaving.”

The Pyro nodded and stood still while the Spy put his cigarette out on the bigger man’s suit. He waited while the man looked him over once more and walked out, then sighed.



The new Medic quickly became the talk of the team.

“Ey, big guy,” the Scout said as Liam plodded down into the kitchen for some food, “you seen the new kid yet? He’s great.”

“S ee? Hvnt sn m yt.”

“Well hurry up and go visit him.” With that he was gone, off to patrol.

Liam ate quickly and then made his way down to the infirmary. He knocked once and then entered when the Medic inside answered.

“Ah, you must be the other Pyro,” the man said as he bustled about the room, putting things away. “It’s nice to finally meet you!” He walked over to his desk and pulled something out of the bottom drawer. “I peeked at your profile and got you this before I came in. Just a nice welcoming gift. Well, welcoming to me. Me welcoming myself to the team. Ah, you know what I mean.” He handed the small, plain box over and watched Liam open it. “These are the right ones, correct?”

Liam blinked a few times and then started laughing as he pulled the five-pound bag of almond Hershey’s kisses out of the box. Without any other warning he pulled the other man in for a hug, which was gladly returned.

“Hvnt hd ths n yrs!” he said as he ripped the bag open and offered some to the Medic. He took a few and put them in a nearby jar full of jolly ranchers and caramel candies.

“Well, I’m glad you like them,” the Medic said as he extended his hand. Liam took it. “The name’s James, by the way.”

“Lum.”

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that. Ian?”

The Pyro pulled his mask up to just under his eyes and grinned.

“Liam. Pleased to meet you.” He unwrapped a kiss and popped it in his mouth. “Very pleased to meet you.”

“Well I’m glad. That seems to be the general reaction. Really makes me feel good about this place.”

“ALERT! BLU SPY IN THE BASE! BLU SPY IN THE BASE!”

“Shit,” Liam shouted as he yanked his mask down and raced up the stairs. James watched, looked over his sheets full of protocol, grabbed his medigun, and ran after the Pyro.



“How the fuck did we get their intel?”

Jake the Scout stared at the desk in the BLU intel room. The other Scout, both Medics, an Engie, a Heavy, a Pyro, and a Soldier were all gathered around the desk. Everyone else was on guard for retaliation from RED.

“Zat was me,” the Spy said as he uncloaked in the corner. Guns and explosives were raised for a moment out of surprised and then lowered. “Zeir subterranean sentries were disabled and zeir Engineer was in somesing of a…’tizzy’ over it.” He pulled out his cigarette case and snatched a cigarette. “He never noticed when I took down ‘is ozer sentries in zeir courtyard. And zey were all so focused on ze new Medic and watching over zeir precious sewers zat zere was little resistance.”

“Good work,” the head Medic said as he put a hand on the briefcase. He faced the Spy. “We generally try to stick together as a team. We would appreciate some warning next time. But…good work.”

The Spy nodded and then disappeared once more.



“It was easy,” he said with a shrug as the head Medic checked to make sure that he hadn’t been hit with any shrapnel when the sentries had exploded. “It is nothing I have never done before. And it was a perfect distraction for the team. Although they mentioned something about barring off the tunnels.”

“Hm. Let’s hope that that was a bluff,” the Medic muttered as he squinted at what might have been a cut. “Does this hurt?” he asked as he ran a finger over it.

“A bit,” Aiden lied. He wasn’t sure a cut was even there, but he had a little experiment in mind. The Medic frowned and pursed his lips.

“Take it easy for the rest of the day,” he said as he stood up straighter. “You did well this afternoon. You deserve the break.”

He helped Aiden down and opened the door from him. He offered a small smile as he left and then shut the door behind him.



Aiden swam over to the other side of the canal, slid out of the water into the empty darkness under the stairs, and took the disguise of the Engineer that he could hear pounding away on a sentry in another tunnel. He hauled himself up the stairs, slowly, and looked around.

He needed to speak to Liam.

“Ey, Engie,” the Scout said as he limped by, foot still healing from the Sniper shot that’d caught him a week or so before. “Takin’ a break?”

“Eh, suppose,” Aiden said as he adjusted the Engineer’s hat. “Just need to walk around a bit, you know?”

“Yeah, I hear ya. Didja hear about the Monster Pyro? Sonovabitch got drunk off his ass last night in the tunnels, passed out there, doesn’t remember anything.”

The Spy shrugged and shook his head.

“Been down there all day. But it would explain why my damn sentries are down.”
“Yeah. Tough luck, man. But hey, so what do you think of the new Medic? What’d he give YOU?”

“Eh? Aw, he’s fine. Didn’t get me much, just a little’ something ‘m not supposed to be sharing with a young pup like yerself.”

The Scout’s eyes lit up.

“Dude got you a box of porn? Shit, and he just got me a bag of lemonheads. Trade?”

“Not a chance, kid.” They both smiled and looked around. “Ey, you seen the Pyro around?”

“Which one? Monster Pyro or Pissy Pyro?”

“Monster.”

“Yeah, he’s down talking to the new Medic. The Spy that took our intel got him solid in the arm with his gun.”

“Sum’bitch,” the Spy muttered as he started down the hall for the RED infirmary. “Thanks, kid.”

“Yeah, no problem. Hey, how’re those sentries coming?”

“Ah, they’re getting there. I wouldn’t go down there yet if I were you – pieces lying all over the place, and in a very specific order. If you stepped on one and messed it up, I’d have no problems drowning you in the damn canal.”

The Scout held up his hands.

“Hey. ‘nuff said. No tunnels.” He saw the other Pyro headed for the stairs. “HEY! Don’t go down there! Engie says shit’s a mess and he’ll drown anyone who messes up his mess.”

The Pyro shrugged and turned out of the stairwell to continue on his way. Nobody on RED wanted to fuck with their Engineer. He, like most of them, though smart, was a bit crazy.

Aiden continued on towards the infirmary once everyone else was out of sight, slowly ambling through the halls, trying to make it look like he was just walking at a relaxed pace. He made it to the Medic’s office and knocked.

“The door’s open!”

He pushed in and looked around. The sleeve on Liam’s left arm was cut off and a rather nasty looking gun wound was being tended to.

“Ah, our ever faithful Engineer is finally taking a break,” the Medic said as he glanced over. “What brings you down to the infirmary, sir? You didn’t hurt yourself on those sentries of yours, did you?”

“No, no. Just taking a break. I heard ole’ Pyro here was hurt and thought I’d pay him a visit, make sure he’s doing fine. He did a fine job protecting them sentries when they were up,” he said as he sat down at the Medic’s desk and pulled a jolly rancher out of the jar. “’least, until he went off and got drunk last night.” He popped the jolly rancher in his mouth and looked up at Liam. “That’s what they’re saying, anyhow. ‘s it true?”

“Aaah,” the Pyro sighed and rubbed the back of his mask, which was pulled up to just under his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “Kinda. I mean, I wasn’t trying to be out all night, but, you know, things happen.”

The Spy snorted. Liam pulled one corner of the mask up over his eye and looked over.

“What? Don’t believe me?”

“No, no. Just know all too well what yer talking about,” he said as he crunched the sticky candy between his teeth. “’cept my sentries are my alcohol.”

The Pyro rolled his eyes and kept watching the Engineer.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way,” someone said from the hallway outside. He sounded an awful lot like the Engineer.

The Spy got up and locked the door.

“Oh, shit,” the Medic said as his face paled. Liam’s darkened and he reached over for his flamethrower. Aiden dropped the disguise in favour of one that made him look like a normal Spy.

“Alright,” he said lowly as he shuffled away from the door. He sat on the desk and watched the other two people in the room. “So what do we do about this situation?”

Someone knocked at the door.

“’ey Medic, you in there? I got a cut from the damn sentry and that pansy of a Scout seems to think that I need stitches.” The Spy glared at the two in the room and drew his gun from the waterproof bag he kept it in. “You in there?” Aiden cocked a brow and looked between the two. They were silent. The Engineer walked away.

“It would seem that a crisis has been averted,” he said as he reached over and snagged another Jolly Rancher. “Excellent taste, by the way. I haven’t had these in years.”

“Y…you’re welcome to as many of them as you want,” the Medic said. Aiden nodded, snagged a handful, and put it into his waterproofed pocket.

“Thank you very much, then.” He looked over to the Pyro, whose hands were clenched around the flamethrower. “Don’t even try. I would have a hole in your head before your feet touched the floor.”

Liam sighed, nodded, and relaxed his grip. He never stopped staring at Aiden, though.

“Now, what to do?” He bit down on the candy and grinned. For once he wished his cloak didn’t hide his teeth. The effect would have been nice.

“Well,” the Medic said as he swallowed, “you could cloak yourself and leave without anyone here getting hurt.” He looked over to Liam and continued to patch up his arm. “Or you could kill us. But if that happens, I promise you will be caught. See this?” He pointed to a small pin on the lapel of his coat. “This is new. It’s linked to my vitals. The moment my heart stops beating, the whole base is alerted. And if you kill him, I will try to kill you. Either way you will be caught. So I highly suggest you disappear and then…disappear.”

Aiden considered it and played with the gun, twirling it around his finger.

“I suppose. I have gotten quite a deal of information this evening. I see no reason to push my luck.”

There was the distinct sound of a Spy dropping his cloak and suddenly the feeling of metal against Aiden’s skull.

“It would seem zat you ‘ave already pushed your luck too far,” the RED Spy said as he cocked the gun.

>>7163

AHH I HATE CLIFFHANGER SO

But I love you corvine, I love you lots.

OH SNAP.

OH NO. hnnnnng! D:

Wow. I read all of this today. Corvine, you are simply amazing! Be careful with your quick updates though. You're going to spoil us with so much awesome! :D

There is so much Tentaspy love going on in the chan right now. Thank you for adding your piece. It has been a great read so far and I look forward to the next installment.

I did catch one or two spelling errors, but for the amount of writing that is expected and really not all that important. Keep up the good work!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

>>7180
This, pretty much. Love your high update rate, btw.

Odeargod.

Please don't stop. I'm hooked to this and Monster in the Water like a slab of meat in a shop and it is so exciting to come on here just about every day and see an update. Am I a terrible person for not wanting these to end?

FIRST: Thank you to all of my readers for your responses. I'm glad that you are all enjoying it thus far. I promise to keep updating as long as I can hold the story together, but I will say that I do have something of a conclusion in mind. But that shouldn't be for a while yet.
----------

XV
Aiden froze.

“Easy now,” he said as he raised his hands. His heart was racing and the corners of his lips twitched upwards in a nervous smile. “Easy. There is no reason we can’t talk this out.”

He could hear the leather of the man’s gloves creaking as he tightened his grip on the trigger.

“I zink not,” he said as he pulled the trigger.

Aiden dropped to the floor and fired at the other Spy. He missed.

“HEY!” The Medic shouted. “Not in here – Goddamit, Liam do something, would you?”

The Pyro pulled his mask down and used a compression blast to knock the guns out of both Spy’s hands. He bent down and pinned Aiden to the ground, then pulled his mask up again.

“Alright, so what do we do with you?” he asked as he picked up his axe.

“Just kill ‘im and get it over with,” the other Spy growled.

“Not in my infirmary!” the Medic half-shouted. “You will not kill anyone in here.”

“Fine,” Liam said. He picked up Aiden, who was snarling and clawing at him, and walked to the door.

“Let me go, dammit!” he growled. “I can walk.”

Liam shrugged and dropped him. He wasn’t prepared for that and dropped to the floor.

“Pathetic,” the other Spy mumbled as he looked for his gun.

“Get up,” Liam barked. Aiden grumbled and got to a semi-standing position, and then froze. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, then relaxed a bit.

“Not now,” he mumbled to himself. “Oh, God, not now.”

The other three in the room frowned. Aiden tried to start walking to the door, but once again he seized up. This time he groaned, and once he relaxed he slumped to the floor.

“Pathetic,” the Spy said as he walked over. “You will not earn sympathy from us with your fake-”

Aiden snarled and lunged at the older man’s feet. Before he could grab them, he fell face-first to the floor and writhed. His disguise dropped and the other Spy and the Medic backed up a few steps.

“What…what the hell is that?” the Medic asked.

“Zat is what appears to be a successful experiment. I ‘ad ‘eard of ze failed ones, but never one zat could function.”

“…what?”

The Spy sighed and pulled out his cigarette case.

“Not in here.”

He sighed again and put it away.

“Zere ‘ave been rumours zat ze BLUs ‘ave been experimenting wis zeir own men. Mostly Spies. From what I’ve ‘eard, it is only ze Medics who are aware of it. If zey want to be part of ze program, zey send in one of their own Spies to an experimental facility. I ‘ad never seen one until now.”

“So…so the BLU Medics sent their own man away… for this?” The Medic was perplexed. “That’s beyond abhorrent. That’s…” He looked down at Aiden, who was faintly twitching and growling on the floor. Liam was standing above him, axe still in hand.

“So what just happened now, then?” the Medic went on. “What’s going on?”

“He has a remotely controlled chip,” Liam said as he watched Aiden twitch. “It shocks him. To control him. I honestly don’t know why they did it just now.”

“So you know zis abomination?” the Spy asked.

“Yeah. We’ve talked. He’s cool when you’re not trying to kill him. Or when he’s not trying to kill you. He’s not really a BLU. The team doesn’t even know he’s there.”

All three of them watched him for a bit. The Medic sighed.

“I can’t just let him go,” he said as he ran his hands through his hair. “I’d feel terrible if-”

“Oh please,” the Spy said with a snort. “’e should be put out of ‘is misery right now.”

“Don’t,” Liam said. “He’s a good guy, really. ‘s not his fault he’s a mess.” He bent down and flipped Aiden over. His eyes were closed and his teeth were bared and he was still growling. The Medic backed up a few paces.

“So what do we do?” the Spy asked. “If you will not allow me to kill ‘im, and if you do not want to let ‘im go, what do we do?”

Aiden groaned and opened his eyes. Liam offered a hand to help him up. He ignored it and pushed himself upright. He looked exhausted.

“Might I suggest you just let me go?” he asked as he pushed himself up into a ‘standing’ position. He made his way to a chair and sat down. Liam put a hand on his shoulder. He growled and the hand was immediately pulled away.

“That is not an option,” the Spy said. Aiden shut his eyes.

“If you really want to be ‘charitable’ to me, doctor,” he said to the Medic, eyes still closed, “then I suggest you allow me to leave. If I do not show up at their door soon, they will shock me again.”

“I… I can’t… I shouldn’t… you’re… I mean-” Before the Medic could stutter his way through a complete sentence, Aiden seized up again in the chair. His eyes were squeezed shut and his teeth were bared.

“Fuck!” he shouted. His hands went to the back of his neck and he started clawing at it.

“Stop that,” the Medic said as he moved forward. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Aiden had already torn through the skin. Liam moved forward and grabbed his hands. The Medic looked at the wound while Aiden twitched and squirmed, then frowned.

“I think I see it,” he said as he went to a nearby drawer and pulled out a pair of tweezers. He pulled on a rubber glove and bent down over the bloody, messy wound. He reached in, snagged the piece of metal, and tugged at it. It came with a little coaxing, and the moment it was out Aiden went completely relaxed. Liam let go of his hands and tilted his head back. He was out.

“Well. Now what?” the Pyro asked.



Aiden woke up in an infirmary. His? He sat up on the examination table and sniffed. No. RED.

“Good morning,” the Medic said from behind his desk. “Well, good night, really. But that doesn’t matter.”

Aiden growled and turned so that he was facing the man.

“Oh, stop that,” he said as he stood. “You’re lucky to be alive. I had to convince that damn Spy not to drag you into the hall and kill you.”

“Hm.” He felt at the back of his neck and winced.

“Yeah, that’s going to hurt for a while. You really are lucky, you know.” He walked over and inspected the wound. Aiden growled, but didn’t move.

“So now what?” he asked. The Medic turned and started rummaging through a drawer.

“Hm? Well, the Pyro and I talked it over. He seems to think that you should be allowed to leave, but also that you should be kept underneath the RED base. I think he might have plans to kill the BLU Medics with his bare hands.”

“Hm. Him and I both.”

Something cool and wet was on the back of his neck. He shut his eyes and relaxed a bit.

“I guess I agree with him,” the Medic went on, “about keeping you under the base. I certainly would not expect you to go back to the people who are clearly abusing you.” He made a disgusted face. “Shocking you. That’s ridiculous.”

“You wouldn’t want me down there,” he said as he lay back down. “I am a trained BLU, whether I like it or not, and being so close to you people would make it hard to resist doing my job.”

“Well, you aren’t killing me right now. What’s that about, then?”

Aiden shrugged.

“You are talking to me like a human being. Most people don’t do that. Even when it was just me, before…this-” he pointed to his lower half “- any time I bumped into a RED, we were reduced to treating each other like animals.”

“So, what, if everyone on this team met you and shook your hand, you wouldn’t want to kill us anymore?”

He shrugged again.

“I do not think it would be that simple.”

The Medic tapped his chin as he thought.

“They were talking about barring off the tunnels,” he said. “Maybe, if certain areas…but that would be hard to explain…”

“I appreciate your help,” Aiden said. “I really, really do. But the fact is, the training I’ve had is too deeply ingrained in me. Even if we had a working system, I’d leave. I wouldn’t be able to help it.”

The Medic sighed and nodded.

“Well… stay at least until that wound has healed?”

Aiden felt the cool cloth on the back of his neck and winced.

“A bit,” he said. “Maybe a day or two.”

The Medic nodded and looked around.

“Now, where to put you.”

Aiden cocked a brow.

“Leave that part to me.”



The tunnels under the infirmary were a mess. There’d been something of a cave-in, and chunks of cement littered the ground and blocked off the two main channels that led to the doors that went outside. There was also no water – the tunnels had fallen in during a dry spell.

Aiden looked at one of the giant piles of cement blocking his way to the rest of the tunnel. He pulled away a few rocks at the top, but immediately a handful of sandy dirt took their place. This was no good.

He went to the second block and looked around. There was a small hold towards the top. He started pulling the rocks away and was relieved to see the remains of the ceiling hold it in place.

For the rest of the day he worked at making a hole big enough to slip through. It took a while, but within a few hours he had a something he would squeeze through if need be.

With that accomplished, he went back to the stairs, crawled into the small space under them, curled up, and went to sleep.



“Hey Ace, you okay?”

Aiden growled for a moment and then peeked out.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “’m fine.”

“You look terrible. Why are you covered in scratches?”

“Hm?” He looked himself over. “Oh. Was trying t’dig a hole through the cave in. Just in case.”

“Oh. Okay then.” He reached into a bag, which Aiden just now noticed he was carrying, and pulled out a jug of water. “Thought you might need this.”

Aiden snatched it, opened it, and doused his lower half in it. Liam chuckled and pulled out a second jug. He opened it and assisted.

“Listen,” he said as he pulled out the third and handed it over, “I’m sorry I was such a prick.”

“Hm?” Aiden opened the jug and took a sip from it.

“Yesterday, in the infirmary. I… honestly, almost killed you. A couple times. The Medic told me that you’d been talking about being a trained BLU, meant to kill REDs. Well it’s the same for me, only the other way around. And, Idunno, I feel like you and I shouldn’t be doing that.”

Aiden cocked a brow and drank some more before shaking his head.

“If you hadn’t, they would have suspected something, and you would have been in a lot of trouble. You were just being loyal to your team. It is something I can respect, I guess.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head. “But still. I feel bad. I mean, I like you. A lot.”

Aiden looked away and cleared his throat.

“Right, well, I should be going,” Liam said as he got to his feet. Even in the near-darkness, Aiden could see Liam’s face was quite red.

“Hey,” he said as he fidgeted a bit, “come back tonight? Bring me some more water and maybe some more of that booze?”

Liam grinned.

“Sure thing, guy.”

He practically flew up the stairs, waved, and disappeared into the infirmary.

Aiden sighed, drank more water, and hauled himself back to the pile of rocks. He wanted to make that hole just a little bigger.



“…but yeah. Spy’s a cool enough guy,” Liam said as he took another drink. “I mean, he’s a dick, but he’s definitely not going to tell anyone about this. And he didn’t kill you.”

Aiden took the bottle when it was offered and downed a mouthful.

“Well that’s good to know,” he said as he sank a little lower in the water. Liam shifted a bit on the platform and scratched at a tear in his suit.

“Sorry the hole wasn’t big enough,” Aiden said as he passed the bottle back. “I thought you would be able to get through easily, but these things are hard to tell without measurements.”

“Nah, ‘s no problem. I have another one, and this was getting beat up anyways.” He took another swig and passed the bottle over. Aiden shook his head and pushed it back. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to get drunk.”

“Not right now. ‘m not in the mood.”

“What’s wrong?”

He shrugged.

“Just not in the mood. I feel…funky.”

“Funky? Like what? Like, sick?”

“No, just… have you ever felt like something bad was about to happen, but you don’t know why?”

“Well sure. And I think yours is based on…well, this. Everything that just happened. You’re probably just worried about returning. Hey, if you wait until tomorrow night, I’ll go with you. We can jump that asshole Medic together and kill the sum’bitch. I come off as a hero to the REDs, you are free of him. It’s win-win.”

“But the other Medic-”

“If he’s around, I’ll do the killing myself. Make it look like you had nothing to do with it. And you can pretend to try and stop me, but I’ll be just too big and strong for you, and the other Medic won’t be able to be angry with you.”

Aiden sniggered and leaned his head on his folded arms. Liam grinned.

“Come on. It’s a good plan and you know it.” He shifted again, this time laying on his stomach, resting his own head on his arms.

“Alright,” Aiden said as he pushed a little closer. “What about when the Medic wants to know how you got to the infirmary unseen?”

“…the rest of the base was sleeping?”

“There is always one Sniper on watch in his nest and two people on patrol.”

“I walked in during the changing of the guard.”

Aiden sniggered again and shook his head.

Liam reached forward and snagged Aiden by the upper arms.

“I held you captive.” He dragged him up, rolled onto his back, and pulled the other man flat against his belly. “I used you as a shield. I told the people on patrol that if they came near or raised any alarm, I’d kill you.”

“They don’t know that I’m alive.”

Liam paused.

“You keep poking holes in this. I am trying to help you.”

They both laughed for a bit. After the laughter died off, Aiden started sleepily nuzzling the other man’s chest. Liam rolled onto his side, arms wrapped around Aiden’s back, and kissed his forehead. After a while he laughed.

“Hm?” Aiden cracked an eye and looked up.

“Ma had so much trouble dealing with me coming out,” he said against Aiden’s forehead. “She sent me a letter last month telling me that she didn’t care anymore. She just wanted her boy back alive. I wonder how accepting she’ll be when I tell her that the guy I have a thing for makes me, in all technicality, into bestiality.”

Aiden started laughing. He stopped after a bit, and there was an awkward silence. Then they both laughed and Liam leaned down, rubbing their foreheads together. Once the laughter died off again, the Pyro leaned forward and kissed Aiden lightly.

“Uh oh,” Aiden said once the lips pulled away. “Are you sure you want to be doing this while you’re still sober? You don’t have the ‘I’m drunk off my ass and will do silly things’ excuse to tell yourself right now. You might be accused of bestiality and then the world will think you were a terrible person.”

“I don’t care,” he growled before kissing him again. “Although I think I might have to steal a mouth guard from Scout before we go any further.”

“Why would you put one of those foul things in your mouth?”

“Not for me. For you. Those teeth could cut through steel.” He leaned forward and pecked him again. “It’s annoying to not be able to do more than that.”

Aiden grunted his assent and curled up against the other man.

“I suppose that’ll have to wait, then,” Liam said as he looked over at the water. It was a bit higher than it was across the canal, but he didn’t think it was too deep. He gripped Aiden tighter and moved into the deeper water, sliding down so that he was sitting on the bottom. The water came to just under his mouth.

Aiden wrapped his lower half around Liam and slipped down a bit lower, resting his head on the man’s chest. He put his arms over his shoulders and fairly quickly fell asleep. Liam followed suit.



Something smelled weird. Aiden sat up. It was familiar. It was killing him, not knowing what it was. He pulled away from Liam, who groaned and opened an eye.

“Wh’s gowin’ on?” he asked before yawning. “What time is it?”

“Don’t know,” Aiden said as he moved into a tunnel. He headed for the door that led to the main tunnels.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t know,” he repeated. Liam frowned and yawned again.

“Are you even awake?”

“Not sure. Something’s up. I need to go.”

“Oh… okay. Well… see you later?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow night.” He disappeared out the door. Liam rubbed the back of his head, yawned again, and got out of the water. He pulled a pocket watch out of a hidden pocket and groaned. Three in the morning.
Aiden kept moving, quickly and quietly, through the waters. That smell –whatever it was –was driving him nuts. He needed to find it and know what it was.

He went through the canal to the BLU waters, and then to the tunnels below the infirmary. It was near. He went up the stairs to the infirmary (blue light was on, that was a good sign) and tried to pry the door open. It wouldn’t budge. He knocked. Three pairs of feet rushed to the door.

Three? That wasn’t right. But whatever it was that smelled so crazy was behind the door, so he didn’t care.

The door opened and he looked up.

“Well it’s about damn time.”

>>7184
Why is it my reaction to the end of every chapter has been "dun dun DUN"?

The suspense pains me in a way that may be terminal.

I take back my comment about you being awesome. Youre not awesome. Youre more than awesome! Youre a freaking GOD!!!! And I love you forever. Keep them updates coming. *worships*

Also! DAT SUSPENSE

Oh god... it's not Dr. Lee is it?! FFFFFUCK! The wait! It kills!

XVI

He was on his stomach. Restraints held him around the midsection, but they were more so that he wouldn’t fall off rather than to keep him from escaping. His lower half was twitching, limbs lazily sliding over the thin plastic mattress. His hands were by his head, palms down, twitching, and he was purring.

Purring

“What did you do to him?” the Medic asked as he strode in the room. Aiden started licking the mattress, leaving a thick trail of drool wherever his tongue went. “What is wrong with him?”

“He’s fine,” Doctor Lee said as he placed a possessive hand on Aiden’s bare back. “He has been heavily sedated.”

“Why? What’s going on? This is my infirmary, and-”

“And this is my experiment. You are in charge of C-9 only when I can not be. Obviously the situation has changed and I am in fact in charge once more.”

“Fine.” He took a few deep breaths. Aiden’s teeth sank into the mattress. “But why is he so heavily sedated?”

“He ripped the chip out of the back of his neck. I need to repair him.” He pulled at a half-healed flap of skin. “I spend millions of dollars on this experiment just for you, and this is how you repay me?”

“This was not my fault. I found Emil messing with the control the other day. If anyone is to blame, it is him.”

A chunk was missing out of the mattress, torn off with razor sharp teeth only to be spit out onto the floor.

“It was my understanding that you are in charge of this infirmary, not Emil. You let that psychopath have the remote. It is your fault.”

Loman glared, but said nothing else.

“In any event, this infirmary is now mine. Headquarters decided that you are not quite ready for such a responsibility as taking care of C-9.”

The Medic glared at the other man, but said nothing. He looked down at Aiden and cringed. He was eating his table. Well, Doctor Lee’s table.

They’d been so surprised when he had come in early that morning. Not Doctor Lee. He knew that the scent of whatever it was in that bottle would attract him. But he and Emil had been doubtful until he knocked on the door. Emil and the doctor were both about ready to kill C-9, but Loman was just worried. When he’d walked in on the other Medic sitting behind his desk and randomly shocking the poor thing, he’d nearly lost it. He had never been so close to killing another human being before. He didn’t even harbour as much hatred for the RED team as he had for Emil in that moment.

All the same, Emil had a good point when he explained that he was trying to call him home. They hadn’t seen him all afternoon or evening, and he wasn’t in the tunnels even though he’d been told to “take it easy” for the rest of the day. Usually when he was told to do that, he just slept.

So they had called Doctor Lee to ask if there was a way he knew to find C-9. The response was to wait, the solution would be there soon. And sure enough, a little over a day later, there he was at their back door. He was dressed in a suit and hat and everyone recognised him immediately as being from Headquarters. He told the team nothing about why he was there and they didn’t ask.

C-9’s response to seeing him had been frightening. First he looked like he was about to pass out, and then he bared his teeth and growled. It was a sound that he’d never heard before. He’d certainly heard him growl, but not like this. It was deep, and he’d lowered himself as he made the sound. He’d been reduced to an animal.

Doctor Lee had merely cocked a brow and held up the control. Useless though it was, the effect was immediate and dramatic. C-9 had quieted and backed up a step. The doctor moved forward and dragged him in, then told Loman and Emil to leave. He had some talking to do.

“Now,” the doctor said as he sat behind the desk, “what am I going to do about you? You need to be punished…”

Loman looked over. Who was he talking to?

“Perhaps a new chip… though that would take a while to create… would probably have to have it made remotely and shipped here…”

Oh. Loman placed a hand on C-9’s back. He really didn’t think that another chip was a good idea.

Doctor Lee stood up.

“I have a better idea.” He walked over and pushed Loman’s hand away. “C-9, I promise this is for your own good.” He continued walking until he was at his bag, hung on a peg on the wall. He rifled through it and brought out a big, thick metal circle. It was hinged at one point and opposite the hinge were two smaller circles sticking out perpendicular to the larger one. Half way between the smaller circles and the hinge was another circle.

Doctor Lee brought the thing over to Aiden and put it around his neck. He went back to his bag and pulled out what looked like a piece from a chain and a pair of pliers. He bent it straight, put it through the two loops on the back of the collar, and bent it around again.

Once more he returned to his bag. He pulled out a length of chain and two padlocks and handed them out to Loman.

“…you carry those around-”

“I thought they might be necessary. It would seem that I was right.”

“But he-”

“Chain him up downstairs out of reach of water.”

“But-”

“Do not question me. I made him. I know how to control him. Unlike you.”

Loman glared at the man before unstrapping C-9 from the table. He picked him up, took the chain, and carried him down the back stairs. He chained him to one of the mid-level poles that supported the handrail on the stairs.

The Spy was still mostly out of it.

“I can’t do this to him,” Loman said to himself as he bent down and put a hand on his shoulder. C-9 didn’t seem to notice. Loman sighed, shook his head, and stood.

“Have you finished?” He looked up. The Doctor was at the top of the stairs, looking down.

“Yes.”

“Then come up here. We need to talk about your assistant.”



Aiden woke slowly and with a massive headache. He rubbed his mouth. Had he been drooling? Why was he at the bottom of the stairs? He tried to move towards the water, but was stopped by-

Shit, he’s here, he thought as his hands went to his neck. No. No, no, no, no, no, anyone but him. Please, please let me be dreaming, plea-

“Good morning, C-9.”

He looked up at the doctor on the stairs and snarled.

“Don’t give me that. I thought you might have missed me.”

Aiden continued baring his teeth and moved back.

“Apparently not. Now, it’s time we had a talk. I noticed that you ripped your chip out. That’s unfortunate. But no worries. I will be here for quite a while now. You’re lucky that I have a new associate who was willing to take over my latest project so that I could come and tend to you. And by all means, I should just bring you back. You don’t deserve to be here.”

Aiden just glared.

“Right. Now, I’ve noticed that you seem to have an obedience problem. Aside from ripping out your chip, I was told that you do not come when called, that you attacked the assistant Medic and, worst of all, that you allowed yourself to be seen.”

He started coming down the stairs. Aiden moved back further as far as the chain would allow.

“Now, to fix this little issue of yours, I have a plan. Any time you misbehave, you will be chained here until I feel you are ready to be released. The collar will not come off. Ever. I may rethink that decision if your behaviour improves consistently for a while.”

He stood just above Aiden, arms crossed.

“You will be left down here for a week.”

“WHAT?”

The slap was surprisingly quick. Aiden didn’t know the man had moved until he was bent over him and he felt the lingering sting on his face.

“Do not speak out of turn. You will be left here for a week. You will be brought water to drink in three days.”

With that he stood again, glared at Aiden for a while, and headed back up the stairs. Once he was through the doors, Aiden started tugging at the chain. The door opened again.

“Oh, and I know that you can break that chain. If you do, I will not hesitate to beat you to within an inch of your life. And I will do it again every time you cross me. Am I understood?”

Aiden glared up at the doctor. He glared back. After about a minute of this, Aiden turned his head and looked away, growling.

“That’s what I thought.” He shut the door and turned both the red and blue lights off.

Once again, noooooooo. D:

You're so mean, Corvine. *cries*

I know. It's a thing I do.

AWW NOO

I'm kind of hoping he'll break that chain and then kill all the medics (except for loman, because he's a sweetheart)

OH JESUS BAWWWW ;__;

omg omg I cannot wait for the next part omggg

why!?!?! Such a hateful man, that Doctor Lee. Uhg! MOAR PLZ!!!!!!!

Oh man, and I thought that I was mean. You're certainly working the suspense!

I'm really starting to like Loman. He's not like those heartless monsters like Dr. Lee. Speaking of him, I hope he dies the death most gruesome. (I guess I was to naive believing that he was outta the picture for good)

>>7197

I absolutely love Loman... that conflicted humanity shining through. And I hope hope hope that Lee dies a horrible and painful death.

Things were getting depressing and I was getting depressing (but oddly encouraging) responses. I hope this helps.
---

XVII

Liam paced in the infirmary. The Medic sat at his desk, tapping a pen on the surface.

“He just left?” he asked.

“Yeah. Said he didn’t know where he was going. He was supposed to come back a couple of nights ago. Something has to be wrong.”

“Maybe they’re just keeping a closer watch on him. From the way I seem to be understanding things, they wouldn’t have been too pleased that he was gone for more than a day.”

“Maybe.” He ran his gloved fingers up under his mask and scratched his head. “Maybe. But I, Idunno, I feel like maybe I should go check or something. Just to make sure.”

“Hm.” He shifted in his seat.

“Zat may not be ze most wise choice.”

Both men jumped and turned to see their Spy uncloak in the corner.

“You’re really creepy, you know that?” Liam said with a scowl.

“Yes. Keep in mind zat I find zat to be a compliment.”

“Hm. So what’s wrong with checking up on a guy?”

“’e is BLU. You are RED. I ‘ope zat zat is clear enough.”

“He’s not really BLU. He’s forced to-”

“Didn’t you said zat ‘e was one of zeir Spies before being sent to zat experimentation facility?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“And did ‘e not tell you zat he was programmed to kill REDs?” he asked the Medic.

“Yes he did. But he also-”

“Zere is no argument. We do not fraternize wis ze enemy.”

“He’s not the enemy,” Liam muttered as he crossed his arms. “Guy’s a cool guy, saved my life. Like, twice. At least.”

The Spy took out a cigarette and twirled it in his fingers.

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, “I can see why you would ‘ave some attachment to ‘im, zen.” He pulled out his lighter and fiddled with that as well. “Well zen. ‘ow about zis. I will go over to zeir side and do my job. If by chance I see ‘im, I will check to make sure ‘e is fine.”

“Would you?” Liam asked as he suddenly stood up a bit straighter. “Please? They keep him in the tunnels under the infirmary. There should be a door leading behind it, just like in here.” He walked to the back and found the secret handle to open the door. “Probably just like that.”

“I will keep zat in mind.”

With that, he left.

“You really like that guy, huh?” the Medic asked.

“Yeah,” Liam said as he pulled his mask off and ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I do. Kinda’ hard not to, when you get to know him.”

“He’s nice?”

“Not really. But, Idunno. We click. He pretends to try to kill me, I pretend to try to kill him. It’s… it’s messed up, but Idunno. It works.”



The Spy was in the infirmary. He was cloaked in the corner and waiting for the three Medics to finish their rather intriguing discussion.

“I have done no such thing!” the shortest and, it would seem, youngest of the three said.

“I have dealt with enough of your kind to know that yes, you have,” one of the others said. He had a suit on underneath his Medic’s coat and he looked distinctly… not German. Irish? English? Definitely not German.

“That’s bullshit. You have no proof upon which to make that accusation,” he shouted back.

“I have plenty of proof. Your face when you saw C-9 was all the proof I needed. Like I said, I’ve seen enough-”

“You can’t possible judge-”

“Do NOT interrupt me when I am speaking!” He slammed a fist on the newly replaced mattress on the examination table. For a few moments he just glared at the Medic. Then he cleared his throat and stood straighter. “Like I was saying. I have seen enough perverted monsters like yourself to know you would seek C-9 for some sick, sexual thrill just by the look in your eyes when you see him.”

“You are sickening. I can not believe that you would accuse someone of that. I refuse to be a part of this conversation any longer.”

“Loman, what do you think?”

“Hm? What do I think about what?”
“About the social economics of nineteenth century Zweibrücken. About your fucking assistant fucking C-9, idiot.”

“I have heard nothing of the matter. If it has happened, it was not on my watch, and C-9 certainly has said nothing about it.”

“Pussy,” the doctor muttered. He went to the back door and opened it. “Come here, both of you,” he said. He pointed down the stairs at Aiden. “Get down there, right now.”

They went down and stared at the exhausted, angry-looking creature chained to the stairs. He growled weakly from where he was slumped against the wall but made no attempts to hurt any of the three.

“C-9,” Doctor Lee started as he held up the jug of water that he had snagged before following the Medics, “tell me. Has anything happened between you and this Medic?” He gestured towards Emil.

Aiden glared at the assistant Medic, who glared right back, but said nothing.

“C-9, this is very important. If this man has done something to you – any sort of punishment that you did not deserve- then we need to know.”

Aiden shut his eyes and shook his head.

“Nothing? He didn’t touch you in any bad ways?”

“This is stupid,” Emil muttered.

“Quiet. C-9, one last time: did he do anything to you?”

Aiden looked between the three and then shut his eyes again.

“Yes. He-”

“You worthless sonovabitch, I’m going to rip your-”

Loman punched the man in the gut before he could say more. Doctor Lee grabbed him by the hair, put the jug of water aside, and started leading him up the stairs.

“I am going to show you why people don’t fuck with me or my property!” Doctor Lee said, his voice raising to a shout by the end of the sentence. The two disappeared into the infirmary.

Loman picked up the jug of water and handed it to Aiden.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think you would care.”

Loman looked hurt.

“Don’t give me that,” Aiden said with a quick growl. “You are just as bad as he is – in your own ways. When I’m not injured. I’m sure you’re feeling all protective right now, but the moment this collar is off and Doctor Lee is gone – and he will leave, if I know him as well as I do – you will go right back to being cold and indifferent towards everything I do. Because I am a toy to you.”

Aiden turned around and started drinking the water straight from the jug.

“I never… I didn’t think-”

“That I would pick up on that? Yeah, sorry to exceed your expectations. I’m not as stupid as you all seem to think I am.”

“But you- you were supposed to be unquestioning and obedient. He said you had no personality. You were a toy. I wasn’t expecting…”

“Marcel?”

He glanced over his shoulder. The Medic’s face was pale, but still expressionless as usual.

“Yeah. Funny thing about brainwashing and conditioning. When you use punishment instead of rewards, things tend not to hold quite as well as you might hope.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you hate Doctor Lee and you hate Emil and you know that if you said anything about it to either of them, they would take me away and you would never see me again because the reverse conditioning happened on your watch. And that would kill you because, despite how much you tell yourself that I am a toy and that I matter no more to you than the brand new car you plan to buy for yourself the moment you’re out of this mess, you have grown protective and attached to me.”

“Moments ago you were telling me how you are just a toy to me. What makes you think I would care if they took you away?”

“Your own words. You said it yourself – I was a toy. You’ve lost your objectivity.”

He went back to the jug of water, occasionally dumping a bit on his dry lower half.

“…shit,” Loman muttered. He got to his feet and started up the stairs, shaking his head.

“Zat is quite ze mess you ‘ave gotten yourself into.” The RED Spy uncloaked. He was standing at the base of the stairs, unlit cigarette in hand in the process of being lit.

Aiden growled weakly and backed away.

“Hush. I am not ‘ere to kill you. I can not kill ‘e who can not defend ‘imself.”

“Get over here and I will be able to defend myself perfectly fine.”

“I would not doubt zat, in any ozer situation, but right now I doubt zat you could win in a fight against wakefulness.”

Aiden snarled weakly but said nothing.

“As I thought.” He pulled out another cigarette and offered it. Aiden looked between the man and the cigarette before taking it. The other Spy lit it and they said nothing for a while.

“How’s Liam?” Aiden asked. His voice was cracked and weak.

“Worried about you.”

Aiden felt his face flush. He tapped the cigarette and returned it to his mouth.

“Hm. Just as I thought.”

“It’s nothing special,” he mumbled. “We talk. It’s nice to talk to someone whose first instinct upon your first meeting wasn’t to blast your face off.”

“Oh, I bet. It must be nice to find a man who is willing to put his job aside to visit his enemy.”

“Yes it is.”

The Spy rolled his eyes and took an unopened pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He took a few out and put them in his cigarette case, then handed the rest of the pack and his lighter to Aiden.

“Zey will want to know where ze smell came from. You ‘ad cigarettes before, non?”

“Oui.”

“Good. You had put zese under ze stairs weeks ago – probably to dry- and forgot about zem until you saw zem now.” He pulled a silver flask out of his jacket. “And zis was zere as well.”

Aiden took them all and looked at his bounty.

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“Because you are pathetic and I can not ‘elp but take pity on a stupid creature as yourself.” He finished his cigarette and tossed it in the shallow water behind him. “And ze Pyro seems to like you. I don’t mind him so much when he actually does his job. If he knew zat you were being taken care of, per’aps he would do his fucking job.” He started up the stairs. “Oh, and if you ever mention to ‘im zat I do not mind ‘im, I will ‘ave no issues killing you.” He cloaked, headed further up the stairs, and, in an act of intense stubbornness and pride over the state of his shoes, waited for the door to open instead of taking the other way out.

There is no sentence that starts with "didn't you said." Your eyes are lying to you. Look away. Look awaaaay!

I LOVE IT!
Seriously though...Aiden is now my favorite Tenatspy and Liam is my all time fave Pyro. You rock so hard it should be illegal.

Psst.
I made popcorn for the soul purpose of reading the update.
fffff I love this so much

Aaahahahahahaaaaa. That's awesome.

Okay, seriously? I just read all of this in the past couple days and I LOVE it.
For someone that updates so fast there's barely any typos and I can enjoy just smoothly reading it.
Monster In the Water was one of my favorite fics on here, and this definitely falls right up in with it.

Woo. This is officially so big that I had to open a new Word document for chapters XVIII +. That's what I get for formatting in Word.

---

XVIII

The boot to his side was light – a gentle tapping to wake him up. That was the mistake of the owner of the boot. He immediately curled around it, wrapping his lower half around the corresponding leg, and clamped down on the foot.

Then came the real blow. A smack with a – what was that, a cattle prod?- to his back. He immediately released whoever it was and retreated to the wall.

“That’s what I thought.” Doctor Lee stood above him, cattle prod and jug of water in hand. “I was coming to release you, but that little act cost you another two days.” He put the jug down. “Oh, and happy Thanksgiving.” Without another word he ascended the stairs and disappeared.

Aiden drank the entire jug in record time, then nearly threw it all back up. He waited a while and then lit a cigarette. Damn, but his life was miserable.

Over the past week Loman had come down daily with water. It was always late, and he never said anything to him, but he was reliable. It was only a single glass full – maybe sixteen ounces – but it was enough. He would hand it over and wait for him to drink and then take it away without a word.

It was the only time he’d seen the man in the past week. Doctor Lee was in charge of everything else now, and he hadn’t heard about the fate of Emil. Not that he particularly cared.

Over the next two days, though, things changed. He saw nobody but, faintly, as though from a great distance, he heard heavy gunfire and plenty of explosions. At night there were people – lots of people – upstairs in the infirmary. They were loud. Some of them were screaming. All of them smelled like blood.

On the third day, there were still people in the infirmary. The gunfire had stopped the previous evening, but the people didn’t stop coming. He smelled people die. He heard the sounds they made when someone they knew was dying. It was horrifying and exciting and, worst of all, made him hungry. There was so much blood.

By the evening of the third day, the blood smells were gone. People were quiet. The blue light came on.

Doctor Lee descended the stairs with a key in hand. Aiden sat up and watched him like a dog excited to see its master.

“Good evening, C-9,” Doctor Lee said as he approached him. He paused just beyond his reach. “On the ground. Stomach down.”

Aiden obeyed, pressing his forehead to the floor.

“There’s a good boy.” He unlocked the padlock that held him on the chain. Close as he was, Aiden could smell the alcohol on him. He didn’t smell like fighting, but he definitely smelled like drinking.

He waited for the command to get off his face. It didn’t come. Instead there was a hand on the back of his head, running through his hair.

“You shouldn’t let your hair go like this,” he said as he reached into his pocket. “It attracts…things.” He pulled out a pair of scissors and started snipping. Aiden didn’t make a sound. “Like bugs. And mold. And men who will think you’re a woman.” He snorted and laughed at the last one. “What a surprise they’d get at that. Lady in the water? No, just a…a… a you.” He snorted again and stood up. “Sit up.”

Aiden obeyed, pulling his lower half under himself and bowing his head. A hand went to his chin and propped it up. The scissors continued.

“You don’t look well. Your eyes are so dark. The last time you looked like this was when… well, nevermind about that. Let’s not drag up bad memories, right?”

“Yessir.”

“Don’t speak while I’m working, boy.”

He continued, working around Aiden’s head until he was satisfied.

“There. Short, neat, and free of disease.” He pulled a small mirror out of his pocket. “What d’you think?”

Aiden took the mirror and froze. How long had it been since he’d seen himself? He’d never had time to pause and look at his reflection in the water, and he hadn’t seen a mirror in months.

He pressed his hand to his face and touched everywhere. It was the same, yet different. His eyes were darker and a bit sunken after the last week’s treatments. His skin was paler. He tilted the mirror and looked at his neck. So that’s what gills looked like?

“Well?”

He tilted it back up again. The hair was actually surprisingly well done. Even, anyways.

“I like it,” he said.

“Atta’ boy.” He snagged the mirror back and put it in his pocket. “Now, I have a little something for you.” He dug into his other pocket. “It became rather obvious that what happened last week was, well, something of a tragedy. You were shocked, I was told, for no reason, causing you to rip out your chip. That’s all well and good – and wrong- on BLU turf, but if you were in the enemy base, it could have caused things to go horribly wrong. So I have this for you. I’d brought it with me but forgot until now.”

He handed over a plain silver chain with two odd links. One was red, one was blue.

“Put it on your wrist.”

He did. It fit a bit snugly, but not too tight. Doctor Lee pulled something – a small control – out of his pocket. Aiden froze.

“Stop that. This is not what you think it is.” He pressed a button and the blue link lit up. “See? Isn’t that neat?” He hit another button and the red lit up.

“Yessir.”

“Now pay attention. A steady, unblinking light corresponds with the lights by the door. If it’s blue, we’re up there. If it’s red, we either aren’t or we’re busy.” He hit another button and the red light started flashing. “If you see this, drop what you’re doing and haul ass back here. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of a mission or sleeping or what.” He hit another button and the red turned off but the blue came on and started flashing. “And this one means come back, but it’s not urgent. Meet us before the end of the day or what have you.”

“Yessir.”

“Good.” He ran his fingers through Aiden’s hair once more and he couldn’t help but lean into it. “There’s a good boy.” He moved over a bit and sat on the third step up, then pointed to the ground next to him. Aiden came over and sat quietly while the doctor kept playing with his hair and rubbing his scalp.

“I missed you,” he said. “It was quiet without you. Even when we got the new project, it was weird. There’s nothing quite like your first fully successful, functioning experiment.”

“Yessir,” Aiden sleepily mumbled. The petting stopped. Doctor Lee’s fingers gripped the short hair and yanked his head back.

“I did not ask you to speak.” He let go entirely, stood, and walked up the stairs. Aiden watched, then fled for the door to the tunnels. He would have just gone straight to his own little cove, but it was dry. The whole tunnel had been dry for days.



The Pyro was asleep on the stairs. He really was asleep – Aiden could hear him snoring, and now and again he jerked upright when he leaned forward too far.

“’ey asshole!”

The Pyro jerked up again and looked up the stairs.

“Wht?”

“Are yeh’ on watch or what?” It was a Demo. It seemed that new teammates had arrived.

“M fn, jst uh lttl slpy.”

“Then do some fookin’ laps aroond th’ sewers or somethin’. Stop sleepin!”

The Pyro mumbled and got to his feet. He stretched, did a quick check with his flamethrower, and then headed down the tunnels. Aiden got out of the water and went up the stairs.

He had no idea where Liam stayed, but he could easily pick his scent out of the tangle of smells in the fort. He followed it around for a bit – the kitchen, the battlements, the stairs to the intel room- until he arrived at a door. The smell behind the door was strong. Very strong.

Slowly, silently, he opened the door. The room was small, just big enough for a cot, a dresser, a mini fridge, and some space to walk between the three (where he’d found the fridge, only he knew).

Aiden shut the door behind him and crawled up to the cot. He looked around for the flamethrower and wasn’t surprised to see the tip of it peeking out from under the top of the blankets.

So this was quite the predicament. Wake him suddenly and pin him down until he realised what was going on? Or wake him slowly and give him time?

He didn’t really have a choice. His cloak, which had been on since the tunnels, ran out just then. The sound was deafening in the small space and Liam immediately woke, pulling his flamethrower up with him. He didn’t dare light it in the small room, but he had it jammed against Aiden’s stomach before he could think to move.

There was a moment of awkward silence. The two looked at each other, both surprised, and then Liam relaxed. He dropped his flamethrower, picked up Aiden, and crawled back into bed.

“What happened?” he asked. His back was to the door, Aiden’s back was to his belly, and he was wrapped around the Spy. He dragged a blanket over the both of them and pressed his face to the back of Aiden’s head.

“An old friend stopped by,” he said. His voice was weak and unsteady.

“You sound terrible.” He reached up and felt at the collar around Aiden’s neck. “Is this hurting you?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Spy said you were chained up. Said the one Medic wasn’t a Medic, another one was a psycho, and the other was just confusing. He followed them for a bit. The guy with the suit has the psycho tied up somewhere else. He said the whole BLU base is a mess. Nobody knows where this guy came from and they’re all too afraid to ask.” He shifted a bit. “And the fight these past couple of days… epic, man. Out of nowhere. Massive casualties on both sides. I don’t think anyone’s going to be doing anything for a while.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Fuckin’ everyone. Right now it’s me, the Medic, a Heavy, a Demo we picked up last week, the other Pyro, the Spy, and a gimp Scout. Seven. Seven people. That’s not a team. That’s shit.”

“And BLU?”

He shrugged.

“I’ve seen one Sniper on watch, plus a Pyro, the two Medics, and the old Soldier. If the Spy’s still out there, I haven’t seen or heard him.”

“So now what?”

“We sent an emergency notice to headquarters. Told them that we needed men now. I’m sure BLU did the same.”

“What do you think is going to happen? How long until they send more?”

He shifted and said nothing for a bit.

“Aiden, when things like this happen, they don’t usually just send more people. They look at it as a failure on both RED and BLU’s parts.”

Pause.

“And?”

“And… well, they disperse the teams. Send the old timers home, give anyone with a bad back the choice to be reassigned or go home, and just reassign the rest. Sometimes they keep them together for easier paperwork, but usually it’s to whoever needs it the most. Sometimes, when something like this – what’s happened here – happens in two places, they merge them. The REDs from another decimated fort would join us, or we’d go and join them. Together we’d make a whole team. But that’s rare. I’ve only heard it happen once.”

Aiden frowned.

“So… what happens to me?”

Liam barked a harsh laugh.

“Hell if I know. They’ll probably take you back to wherever you came from and wait until a water-based fort asks them for one of their experiments. Or whatever. I don’t know how it works.”

Aiden shuffled a bit and rolled over to face Liam.

“So that’s it, then?”

“Well, not necessarily. They could send some guys our way.” He sighed. “But yeah, probably. I mean, the chances of you getting sent to the same base as me are maybe somewhere around one in a billion. Supposing you even get sent anywhere.”

Aiden nodded and wrapped his arms around Liam’s neck. The Pyro buried his face in Aiden’s shoulder and they lay like that for a while. Eventually Liam had to get up.

“My shift,” he said as he sat up and got to his feet. Aiden sat up and went to the door. He waited for Liam to dress. Once he was ready, he cloaked. The Pyro opened the door and looked out. Aiden slipped out and quickly made for the tunnels. He had a report to give.



“Seven?” Doctor Lee asked. “You are certain?”

Loman was inspecting the chafed skin under the collar on Aiden’s neck. Doctor Lee was at a chair, feet propped on the desk, hands behind his head.

“Yes.”

“You counted them all?”

“No. One of them was drunk. He was crying about their team and how stupid it was to have seven people.”

“Did he mention who?”

“No. But he was a Demo, and I saw at least one Pyro, a Heavy, a Medic, and a Scout.”

“Hm.” He took his feet off the table and leaned forward. “They aren’t going to keep two broken teams fighting each other,” he said to himself. “No way in hell.” He suddenly clapped his hands together and stood. “Sounds like we’ll be going on a trip soon! What do you think of that?”

Aiden held back a growl and just glared at the man.

“Ah yes, I imagine you don’t like it so much. Well, too bad. We probably won’t have a choice.” He headed for the door. “I’m going to go call headquarters. Maybe they’ll be able to tell us how much time we have to pack.”

Once he was gone, Loman locked the door behind him and returned to tending to Aiden.

“Do you think that maybe I might be lucky enough that he’ll just let me retire, like I’ve wanted to for the past six years?” the Medic muttered.

“Do you think that maybe I might be lucky enough that he’ll just let me go, like I’ve wanted for the past five months?” Aiden replied.

The Medic looked up at him and sighed.

“Not a chance.”

The rate you update this makes me a very happy panda :3<

I love your almost daily posts and I just keep guessing! I hope...I hope all the good medics and Liam and Aiden run away together!

Thanks! And we'll see. That's unlikely though.

Just wanted to say I love this. Only thing I don't understand is why Aiden doesn't kill Lee now that the chip is out.

God, I just sat down and read all of this in one go.

AMAZING.

Thanks again for all of the responses and Happy Thanksgiving to all of my American amigos. And to those of you not giving thanks because you live in other countries, well, it's always cool to be alive. So give thanks and gorge yourselves. GORGE! Update maybe tomorrow, maybe not 'till Monday.

<3 <3 <3 C

>>7273
Well, Happy Thanksgiving to you, too~!
I await with bated breathe for the next post. <3

Anyone else thinking that Etienne is the new project? Anyway, love the story! Happy Thanksgiving!

Doctor Lee is my favorite character here. I hope he either gets away with everything and lives life out long and happily among many comforts, or that he meets his demise in as painful and humiliating a way as possible.

Also, I badly want to see what happened to Etienne (my favorite of all French names).

>>7279
My bet has always been on a Tentaspy showdown.

>>7279
I have this feeling too. It makes my gut squrim for the drama.

A special holiday treat because I feel like it.

---

XIX

Aiden sat in the waters in front of the RED waters and stared. Liam’s mask was pushed back and he was resting his face in his hands.

“Hey.”

Both of them looked up. The Medic walked down with three cups of coffee. Liam frowned at the third. The Medic cleared his throat, passed one to Liam, and set the third mug at the edge of the water, and sat next to the Pyro.

“How does it look up there?” Liam asked as he stared into the mug. Aiden pushed a little closer.

“It’s empty. The others are waiting out back. The rides should be here soon.”

Liam nodded and sipped the coffee.

“Has he showed up?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing yet.”

They both watched the water. The Medic cleared his throat and stood.

“I’m going to go wait with the others. Bring up the mugs when you’re done.”

Without another word he stood and went up the stairs. Once they couldn’t hear him any longer, Aiden uncloaked and picked up the mug.

“He’s a good guy,” Liam said before throwing back half of the coffee.

“Seems it.” He sipped at the mug. “What did you tell the others when they asked why you were going to be guarding the tunnels?”

He shrugged.

“Nobody asked. They seem to think that I enjoy the tunnels.”

Aiden nodded and pushed up onto the concrete. Liam slid down a bit and sat on the bottommost step, feet stretched out almost to the edge of the water.

“What are the chances-”

“I don’t want to think about it.” Liam put his coffee aside and moved forward some more, crossing his legs and sitting right next to Aiden. “It’s weird though. I, ah, well, I’ve been here for, like, three years.” Aiden looked over. Liam was about to cry. “Three years and most of my original teammates have gone. The Heavy is the only one left who came in with me. And even the new ones were, we were brothers or something. And that’s all we were. Most of the rest of them used each other like the women they missed, and that’s fine, but I couldn’t do it. I never was a one-night stand guy and I never will be. And I told myself that I wouldn’t try to pick up any guys while I was here. I’m here on a mission. I’m not going to get my personal life mixed in with this fighting. And then you…” He shook his head and laughed bitterly. “I was just apologizing for not killing you. How fucked up is that? And then you… I don’t even know.” He wiped at his eyes. “How messed up must I be to even…” He laughed again and looked over at Aiden. “No offense. It’s just… I mean, you’re… I didn’t expect to like a BLU, let alone…”

“A monster?”

“Don’t say-”

“HEY PYRO! BUS IS HERE!”

Liam grabbed Aiden and hugged him tight.

“Take care of yourself, Ace. Don’t let those fuckheads do anything to you. They don’t have anything on you.” He pulled him up and pecked him on the cheek, then let go and stood. He wiped his eyes again, tossed back the rest of the coffee, and left the mug on the stair. “Later, guy.” He pulled his mask down and went up the stairs.

Aiden watched and listened. He heard the cars leave and heard them disappear. Only once he couldn’t hear them any longer did he get up and go up the stairs.

It was eerie. The hallways were dark and cold and still smelled like people. Someone had left a watch on the coffee table in front of the couch. Someone else left a half-full coffee cup in the kitchen. And the only sounds were his own movements.

Aiden made his way upstairs and to Liam’s small room. He pushed in. It still smelled like him. The cot and dresser were still there but the fridge was gone. He lay down on the cot and curled up.

For a while he stared at the door and just smelled the canvas. Fire, oil, sweat, ash, blood, beer, water. He felt an old familiar feeling – the closing of his throat, the blurring eyes, the hitching breaths. No. He wouldn’t take that. He bit into the canvas and growled. No.

“No,” he said aloud. A flash caught his eye and he looked down. The blue light was blinking. “No,” he said again. He bit into the canvas and tore it. “Dammit.” His voice was choked. He wrapped himself around the frame and tore it apart. “FUCK!” He ripped the canvas to shreds. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!” He beat one of the support bars against the wall and shouted until he was hoarse. He stopped and just breathed for a while, then lay down on the floor. He pulled the torn fabric up and bit into it again with his eyes closed. He lay like that for a while, occasionally looking at the mess he’d made, until another flash caught his eye. The blinking light was red.

“Fine,” he muttered, voice heavy and nasal. He looked around the room one last time, sighed, and left.



The sound of the hammer nailing the crate closed was deafening, even through all of the padding. They’d used the original towels and crate from his first trip over, only this time there was no ice, which probably meant that he’d dry out quicker.

As uncomfortable as the crate was, he didn’t care. He almost immediately fell asleep, tired from his little journey up to Liam’s room. He didn’t care when they yanked him by the hair out of the crate, nor did he pay much attention when they strapped him to an examination table in a room that smelled familiar.

He couldn’t care for a while after that as he was out cold. They’d put him under for some procedure – what, they wouldn’t tell him. He woke later on, stomach-down, strapped to a moving bed. People –familiar people- were talking around him. Doctor Lee was one of them. He didn’t care.

He was thrown into water. His water. His pool. The temperature was a little lower than he remembered – somewhere in the high sixties. It made him feel awake. He didn’t want to feel awake.

Immediately upon hitting the water he sank and hid in a corner. He rubbed his wrist. It was naked. He rubbed his neck. The collar was gone, but in its place was a bandage. He felt the back, right over his spine. They had done something.

He growled. Either they had repaired the damage that he’d done, or they’d replaced the chip.

He surfaced and glared up at the massive crowd that surrounded the pool. He’d never seen this many people in the enclosure around his pool. So many doctors – some of them new – were watching him and talking amongst themselves.

“Ah, good morning, C-9!” Doctor Lee said as he approached the edge of the water. “I see you are recovering well from your procedure. We had to replace that chip, you see-”

With a snarl, he lunged at the man’s legs and dragged him in. Three other doctors jumped in and started ripping him off the man. He didn’t care about them until one of them punched him in the jaw. He turned and bit the hand right off. Someone else was pulling at a tentacle. He turned to that person and wrapped his entire lower half around them and squeezed them to death.

Someone pulled Doctor Lee out of the water. Aiden finished off the three in the pool and surfaced growling.

“Do you see this!” Doctor Lee said. He seemed happy. “He is a killer!”

Aiden lunged at him again but someone else threw themselves in the way. He didn’t last very long.

“Look at this. He is angry.” He turned to Aiden and grinned. “Oh yes, you are very angry, aren’t you?” He faced the crowd, which watched in silent horror. “Watch.”

Aiden had been preparing to lunge again when Doctor Lee pulled a new control out of his pocket. He stayed and growled, but didn’t move.

“C-9, back in the water.”

He resisted the urge to obey and remained where he was, growling. Doctor Lee smiled and pushed a button.

“C-9 get back into the water.”

No, he thought to himself even as he moved backwards. He wasn’t aware that he was moving until he was in the pool.

“He is completely within my control,” Doctor Lee said to the crowd. They applauded. “Now,” he said as he turned to Aiden, “you will not attack me ever again.” His finger was on the button as he said this. He released it, moved to the edge of the pool, and pressed another button. Aiden was given a small shock. He growled, wrapped a few limbs around Doctor Lee’s ankles, and then did nothing else. He was shaking and still growling, but he did not have the ability to do anything else.

“See that!” he said with a laugh. He leaned down and ruffled Aiden’s hair. “He is the perfect weapon.” He turned back to him. “Release me immediately.” Even though he hadn’t been pressing any buttons, Aiden obeyed and moved backwards a bit. He was scared, he was confused, but, most of all, he was furious.

“Go to the other side of the pool,” Doctor Lee commanded, “and say hello to a few of my colleagues. They came all the way from Stuttgart to see you.” He pointed to a pair of men waving on the other side of the pool.

Aiden obeyed. He swam to the other side of the pool, said hello, and proceeded to drag one of them – and two of the doctors that tried to stop him – down into the water.

“C-9, stop that!”

He froze, teeth bared, eyes shut, mouth clamped around a screaming man’s neck. His breathing was ragged and he was shaking.

“Release him.”

He let go and watched the man swim to the edge of the pool, hand on his neck. Another one – a woman- also made it out. The third didn’t move.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Doctor Lee said to the panicked crowd, “please do not be alarmed. This is a gruesome and unfortunate demonstration, yes, but remember that I have complete control over him.” He hit another button. The shock was strong and quick. He blacked out for a moment, then shook his head and dove down to the darkest corner he could find.

“Again,” Doctor Lee said as he held up the remote, “I have complete control.”

Already noticed a typo. Faail.

wh--..
i had an intelligent response
now i'm just rather shocked and sad

more pleeeease~

just this first thing- "waters in front of the RED waters"

the rest... buh. i wanna cry. ]':

Yeah, that's the typo I mentioned.

And yeah, I'm terrible people.

Big numbers, baby.

---

XX

The new routine ran as such: Every morning, Aiden was commanded to wake and rise to the surface of the water. He was instructed to greet the present doctors by name and allow all of them to examine him. He was then taken to the compound’s newest training facility. He would refuse to run through the underwater obstacle course and attack anyone who tried to force him to. After an hour of giving him the option to do it by free will, he was shocked and commanded to run the course. He would then run the course repeatedly, purposefully overdoing it and tiring himself. In the evening he was rolled back to his own pool, dumped there, and promised that things would be better if he behaved without the control.

The only variation in this for the first month was that he was given a dead, blood-drained lamb every Monday morning.

In the second month, he stopped attacking people. He didn’t strike out at Doctor Lee or any of the other doctors, and when he was forced to run the obstacle course, he did so slowly and without enthusiasm.

In the third month, he was given news.

“You are a disgrace,” Doctor Lee said as he bent over the edge of the pool. He was alone except for Aiden, inches below him, eyes peeking out of the water. “What is the matter with you? I try to train you, to make you better, and I give you the option of doing everything for yourself, but if you aren’t attacking people you’re moping. What’s the matter with you?”

Aiden looked away and shrugged.

“I don’t know what went on in that fort, but it’s changed you, and I don’t like it. Did it never occur to you that if you behaved, you might be able to leave?”

Aiden frowned and shrugged again.

“You don’t want to leave?”

Aiden rose a little higher and shrugged again.

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Well you don’t have much of a choice, the way you’re acting. I can’t always be forcing you to do everything.” He reached down, grabbed Aiden by the hair, hauled him out of the water, and laid him face-down onto the cement. Aiden bared his teeth but was otherwise relaxed. Doctor Lee sat next to him and sighed.

“I want you to be successful. I want you to live up to the money that we put into you. The only way we can do that is if you cooperate.” He turned and faced Aiden. “Think about that. If you cooperate, you can be sent to a new base.”

Aiden did think about it. It was the first thing in the past two months that’d make him think of anything.

“What… suppose I wanted to be put with certain people…?”

“The old Medic, Loman? He has been reassigned to a special base. It is where you will go, supposing that you get your act together. It’s where insiders who want to get into the action go. Your team will know about you. The RED team there is strong and BLU could use you.”

“I meant someone on RED.”

Doctor Lee narrowed his eyes and stuck out his lower chin a bit.

“You weren’t fraternizing with the enemy, were you?”

“No. I have something to settle with the RED Pyro.”

“Aaaaaaah yes. The giant one, correct?”

Aiden nodded.

“Loman told me he almost caught you your first week. That wouldn’t have gone well. Yes, I will see what I can do about him. If you get your act together.”

“Don’t hurt him,” he said, a bit suddenly. Doctor Lee cocked an eyebrow. “It wouldn’t be fair. If he was injured already when I killed him. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Doctor Lee chuckled and ruffled Aiden’s hair. He bit back the need to growl and shut his eyes.

“Alright. Like I said, I’ll see what I can do. But you need to do your part first.”

The doctor stood and, without another word, left.

Aiden was left to think for the rest of the day. And he did a lot of thinking.



A month later, Aiden rose to see the crate being wheeled next to his pool. He growled at it and ducked back under.

“Stop that.”

He rose back up and growled at Doctor Lee. His night had been restless – they had shocked him lightly on the hour for the past twelve hours to keep him awake.

“Quiet. Come here.”

He came and pulled himself out of the water. For a moment he sat on the edge of the pool and just yawned widely.

“Wet these.”

A pile of towels was thrown down next to him. He dipped them in the pool one-by-one and put them in a new pile. Doctor Lee started taking some of them and putting them in the bottom of the crate, atop the blocks of wrapped ice.

“Get in.”

The box was tilted on its side. Aiden slid himself into it. Doctor Lee righted the box and then dumped the rest of the towels in without warning. Aiden immediately started wrapping himself in them.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Doctor Lee growled down at him. “I will be checking up on you soon, and I will not be announcing my arrival.”

Aiden nodded and wrapped a towel around his neck as the crate was shut. He put another behind his head and almost immediately drifted off to sleep.



Something smelled different. Yet familiar. And cold. It was confusing. Yet, sleepy as he was, Aiden couldn’t bring himself to care much. He shuffled in the still-damp towels and mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep.

Not long after, he cracked and eye and peeked up as the crate was pulled open. He hadn’t even noticed that they’d stopped.

“Hey, buddy, you awake?”

Aiden growled at the unfamiliar voice and the smell it was attached to.

“Heh, hey Doc, check it out. He’s a growler. Rawr. Heh.”

The lid was ripped aside and light flooded the box. Aiden shied away from it and grumbled lowly.

“Come on, buddy, out’choo go.”

A brave hand plunged into the box and gripped his…hand? Another – larger- hand went in and grabbed his other hand. He was pulled out of the crate and set down gently on the tiled floor of an infirmary at least five times the size of the one in the old fort.

“There ‘e is,” the owner of the first voice said. Aiden peeked over at him (and really, peeked – his eyes were still having issues adjusting to the light). It was a Scout.”

“Spy is smaller than I thought,” the Heavy that had assisted in dragging him out said as he stepped back and sized him up.

Aiden backed up a bit. There were nine people in the room – one from every class – and they were all just staring at him.

“Welcome to Ex Fort,” the Medic said as he opened his arms. “We have been waiting quite some time for you.”

Aiden made an unimpressed sound as he glanced at the group.

“Right,” the Medic said as he scratched his head, “well then. There are thirty-two people on our team – four of each class except Sniper and Spy, who have two each – and gathered here are the heads of each class. They are well marked and the only ones you may have any extended contact with, along with all of the Medics. I was told that you are already acquainted with our two newest arrivals. You may meet them later.”

Two?

“Enough of that, though.” He shooed off the other eight in the room and bent down to Aiden with a hand extended. Aiden cautiously took it and allowed him to shake it.

“Very good. They say you’ve had some behavioural problems.” He pulled the control out of his pocket and raised his eyebrows. Aiden growled. “As I thought. I foresee no problems in our future, then.”

Aiden nodded begrudgingly and looked around.

“You are probably wondering where you will be staying? Yes, that, while no problem most of the time, has become something of the question of the day in our climate. February has not been kind to us.” He walked to the back wall and opened a door. “This way.”

At the end of a well-lit hallway was another door and then a series of tunnels, not entirely unlike those at the other fort. The walkways were metal and had railings, though, and they were almost twice as wide. Most notably, however, was the state of the water.

“We don’t heat this level,” the Medic said as he pressed a foot to the thin layer of ice. Aiden put a tentacle to it and almost panicked when it stuck to the surface for a few seconds before coming away.

“Yes, we thought that might be an issue,” the Medic mumbled, mostly to himself. “We COULD bring a Pyro down here, but he would have to be here constantly. Perhaps a space heater, supposing we could get the electricity…” He looked down at Aiden. “I will speak to an Engineer about blocking off and heating this sector for now.” He rubbed his chin. “But you certainly couldn’t do any work because the REDs wouldn’t have the same measures in place.” He frowned. “We just may have to keep you in the tub until the spring thaw.”

“Is there any way I could get any water now?”

The Medic jumped, as though he hadn’t been expecting him to talk. He straightened his glasses and cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes. Of course. Perhaps we should just throw you in the bathroom for a while. We have several, after all.” He clapped his hands together and turned back to the door. He opened it and gestured for Aiden to go in. “To the tub it is, then, until we can melt the tunnels. I would greatly appreciate it if you would don a disguise for the trip up there.”

“C-certainly.”



It took three days for two Engineers to seal off and heat one section of the tunnels closest to the infirmary. By the end of those three days, Aiden, who had never had the luxury of hot water at the medical compound, could barely walk. His whole body had turned red from the multiple filling and re-filling of the tub with hot water. A few times one of the heads of the classes – usually the Scout – would walk by, see the steam coming from the doorway, and pound on the door.

“Hey, we didn’t order any calamari!” he would shout. Aiden thought that he was just being silly. What he didn’t know was that he was straining the fort’s water heater to its max – and then some. Half-way through the third day his hot water ran out. A very angry chief Engineer pounded on the door and told him that what he had was what he got, no more hot water thank you very much.

The Medic and that same Engineer helped him down behind the infirmary and into the tunnels.

The water, though indeed water and not ice, was absolutely freezing. It was deep, which was nice, but mostly it was just freezing.

“The Engineers were nice enough to come in from their regular work to do this for you,” the head Medic said when he noticed Aiden’s hesitance to enter the water. “They put a lot of time into this.”

Aiden mumbled his thanks and glanced at the Engineers. The chief nodded and the other –much younger- was averting his eyes. The older one hustled the other out and shut the door behind him.

Aiden slipped into the water and shivered.

“Well?”

“Cold. Very, very cold.”

“It will get better. The heat should stay on.”

Aiden grumbled and nodded, then ducked down so that just his eyes were above the water.

“Wait just one moment,” the Medic said as he turned and left. Aiden watched and waited. The man returned a few minutes later with a canvas bag.

“They gave us your measurements,” he said as he handed the bag over. Clothes. Of course. “We hope that these are to your liking.”

Aiden pulled out the jacket and cocked a brow.

“Is it okay?” The Medic seemed genuinely concerned. Aiden tried it on.

“Perfect fit,” he said as he tested it, stretching his arms above his head.

“The fabric is supposed to be a bit more… life resistant than other Spy suits. It’s not a walking fireplace waiting to happen, for one, and the shirts shouldn’t wrinkle too badly.”

Aiden pulled the jacket off and pulled out a shirt. He started putting it on and wondered why the Medic was so much more concerned about how he looked than if he had a decent place to live. He looked up at the man. His coat and boots and uniform underneath were neat and spotless. That might have something to do with it.

“I hope that works for you. That’s all I have for you for now. If you need anything else, feel free to come into the infirmary and ask whoever’s on duty.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “As embarrassing as this is, I don’t have anything for you to do just yet. The spring thaw should be just around the corner. Until then, get to know the place, and, uh, we’ll bring you something to eat. When were you last fed?”

Aiden shrugged.

“O-oh. Are you hungry?”

He nodded.

“Oh. Uh. Well I don’t have any bodies for you just yet,” he said with a half-hearted laugh that died fairly quickly. “But I certainly could have a Sniper go hunting tonight. I’ll have something for you tomorrow, anyways. Until then.” With that, he left.

Aiden stopped getting dressed, pulled the shirt off, threw it in the bag, and jumped fully into the freezing waters in search of a good place to sleep.

i have a mini heart attack every time this is updated.
but i keep coming back. ffff~ it's so great~

you are an excellent writer.

oh my god updates yesssss <3

MMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. Just read through all of this in the past couple of hours instead of actually playing TF2, and now I crave more.

You are a very, very talented writer and I should like to subscribe to your newsletter.

FFFFF. I love this so much. The fact that Aiden is now being treated as a normal human by his team mates makes my heart so happy.

Loving your rate of updates!

And here I wasn't expecting anything until Monday. You have no idea how excited I was when I saw the update. I have to work the Black Friday crowd and this has totally made my day.
THANK YOU.

I leave for two days and there are like four or five updates! YOU. ARE. SO. AWESOME!!! Shameless use of caps-lock. :D

The two Aiden's acquainted with have to be Loman and Liam, right? Right??? I absolutely love this story, if that wasn't already apparent. Please continue on as you have! Can't wait for the next part!

XXI

It was an awkward first month for Aiden. The water never got above fifty degrees and the tunnels, initially interesting new territory, were boring and confining after the first two days. The head Medic only came once a week to make sure he was still alive, and then he only stayed a few minutes. Aiden, not one to ask for much help, couldn’t ask the man to bring over a few things to occupy his time while he waited for the outside to warm up. Namely cigarettes and a map of the fort. No, instead he waited. And waited. And waited. A lot of that time was spent sleeping and the rest of it was spent wondering if he should sleep or find something to do. The answer was always sleep.

At one point halfway through the first week the Medic (and a few others) did bring him something to eat. The head Sniper had bagged a deer that wandered too close to the fort. Hungry as he was, Aiden could have eaten the thing whole. Instead, he politely thanked the three people that had dragged the carcass in, skinned it, and spent the rest of the day stripping the meat from the bones.

And then he slept for four days straight.

Finally, after the fourth week, the head Medic walked in looking a bit happier than usual.

“C-9, I have some great news!” he said as Aiden sleepily peeked up at him. “The past week’s been warm, and I was a bit skeptical of an early spring, but sure enough, it’s fifty-eight degrees out. How would you like to see the rest of the fort?”

Aiden contained his excitement well. He shrugged, got dressed, pulled his balaclava on, cloaked, and followed the man out.

“Well, you’ve seen the infirmary and the hallway with the sleeping quarters and showers,” he said as he passed through said hallway. “Up these stairs are the battlements,” he said, pointing to the stairs as they passed, “and this is our front door.” He exited the front. Aiden was cautious at first – wasn’t the Medic worried about enemy Snipers? But it was immediately apparent that no, he wasn’t. The front entry was guarded by a tall, wood-plank wall that extended as high as the battlements.

“The stairs and the front door are two of three places in the fort that you will be allowed regular access to,” the Medic said. “If you are caught wandering anywhere else, you will be restricted entirely to the water. We don’t want to have to do that.”

Aiden nodded. Duly noted - No TV.

Once they were outside, it was very easy to see that this fort was nothing like the last one. For one, it was massive, built to house thirty people comfortably. And the two forts were a bit further separated from each other – not by a canal, but by a river. A wide, real river with no walls. There was a wood-plank fence that ran around the sides and back of both forts about fifty feet from the edges of the buildings, but the river was clear. And were those woods surrounding them?

“Nice, isn’t it?” Aiden looked up at the man and nodded. “Yeah, we like it pretty well out here when we aren’t blowing each other’s heads off. But come on, let’s see the river.”

They went back inside and went further down the hallways, passing a giant room full of couches and a TV, a kitchen, and a workshop where two Engineers were arguing very loudly about something very confusing. Halfway down the hall was another stairwell, this one leading down. The Medic gestured for Aiden to descend, then followed.

“This is the third place you may go. Of course you will not be punished for traveling here or to the front door or to the battlements, but if you are seen lollygagging, I will confine you to the river and tunnels.

At the bottom of the stairs was the chief Engineer working on a sentry and two Spies taking a smoke break.

The moment the Spies saw Aiden, they flicked their cigarettes into the water and headed upstairs. The Engineer pretended not to see them.

“These tunnels run below our base and lead to the river,” the Medic said as he led Aiden down the metal paths. They went to the exit and Aiden couldn’t help but be a bit jumpy. He’d never been in water this fresh and lively before.

“The water runs deep,” the Medic said, “and you are allowed wherever you wish. However, I advise you to stay within the boundaries of the fort – perhaps fifty feet to either side of the building – for… tracking sake. We don’t want to see you swimming a mile downstream, in any case. And of course you are allowed absolutely anywhere you wish in the RED base. Please do whatever you need to – go wherever you need to- to do your job.”

Aiden nodded and dipped a tentacle – disguised as a foot- into the water. It was cold – very cold – but also very lively.

“Oh, do be careful. The river is swollen with the winter melt. It’s not much – we aren’t so high in latitude that we have to worry about that all too much – but the river has risen a foot or two and picked up in speed. Please try not to get swept away.”

“I won’t,” he replied. And it was true – the new training facility back at the compound had this lovely pool that was built like a river. The bottom had varying depths, the water had varying speeds, and they always mixed it up just enough every day that it was a challenge. At least for the first month.

“Good. Now, this isn’t exactly related, but I feel it’s important that you understand this. As previously stated, there are thirty of us. Because of the nature of our background, many of us prefer to go without any names at all. No nicknames, nothing. So we have developed a system of sorts. There are the classes, abbreviated if possible, and then numbers, plus the chief. I, for instance, am CM. Chief Medic. The man we passed was CE. I run the Medics, M’s 1-3. He runs the Engineers, E1-3. Do you follow?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good!” He beamed at being called sir. “Very good. All classes go by the first letter of their official designation, except for those pesky ‘S’s. Spies are SP, Snipers are SN, Scouts are SC, and Soldiers are SO. Easy enough, just the first two. Are you still following?”

“Yes sir.”

“Very good. Very good. Now, this is important to know because sometimes – rarely – I will not be able to tend to you and I will send someone else in my place. Most of the time these people will be my fellow Medics, but once in a great while – right after a battle, most likely – I will just grab the nearest person I know I can trust. I will try to grab a chief of a class, but I might just literally snag whoever’s nearest me and not bleeding half to death or trying to stop someone else from bleeding half to death. If this is the case, I will need you to tell me who I sent, as I am sure I will not have time to keep track of who I randomly grab and throw at you. Their numbers are clearly labeled. Am I understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Good. Follow me.”

They went through the tunnels to the sealed off area that he had been calling home. The tunnel system was massive – Aiden could tell it was going to take a little while for him to get used to the layout.

“These walls will be gone as soon as CE is finished with whatever he’s doing,” the Medic said as he tapped one of the barriers. “You should be free to move about by tonight.”

Aiden nodded and looked back down the tunnels. He was itching to get into the river.

“One last thing,” the Medic said. His tone had gone serious. Aiden looked up at him. “I do not do hourly checks. I do not expect you to give me reports every day. But if for any reason you are absent for more time than I feel is appropriate, I will shock you.” Aiden immediately shied away. “Mind you, I will be very gentle about it at first – a small tickle for the first few hours. But I will gradually increase the power until you either come back or you don’t. Keep in mind that full power is a lethal dose of electricity. Should it ever get to that point, headquarters will come in and burn this area to the ground within a fifty-mile radius. They will not be happy until they have a body.” He leaned a little closer. “I have been made aware of the fate of your last chip. Keep in mind that these people will never stop until they find you.”

Aiden pulled away a bit more and nodded.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes sir.”

The Medic stood straight and smiled.

“Good!”

Together they walked back to the stairs.

“CE, when do you plan on taking down the barriers?”

“Just a moment,” the Engineer grumbled.

“Very well. C-9, you are free to do as you wish.”

With that, the Medic left. Aiden bent down close to the water and peered out at the river.

“It’s not gonna’ bite you.”

He jumped a bit and looked at the Engineer. He was watching him.

“I know that.”

“Well get in and stop crowding this walkway then.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Aiden plunged in face-first, lost the disguise, and breathed his first breath of real – real water. He swam fast into the rushing waters and was exhilarated at the challenge he found in staying a straight course through the wide river.

This is amazing, he thought to himself as he dove deeper and stirred up a few very surprised fish. I don’t want to leave this. Ever.

XXII

The RED base was set up a little different than the BLU. The tunnels had low barriers every twenty feet that were fine with the higher water but would probably prove to be a bit annoying to cross when the river went back down.

There was a sentry with every barrier and an Engineer and Pyro were on patrol. Aiden made his way to the stairs and frowned. The stairs were very narrow – it would be impossible for more than one person to go up at a time. And at the top, the doorway had an actual door.

Aiden looked around. The Engineer and Pyro were still deeper into the tunnels. Still cloaked, he left the water and started up the stairs.

The moment his full weight was on the stairs, the door slid open. He froze. Nobody was there. He kept going. About halfway up, a Pyro peeked in, flamethrower first. He stepped back for a moment and looked around, then pushed through and started spraying fire everywhere.

Were he a taller, wool-clad man, Aiden would have been screaming and jumping for the water. Luckily he was neither of those, and the flames missed him by a couple of feet.

The Pyro grumbled, kicked the doorway, shouted for an Engineer, and went on his way. Aiden quickly went up the stairs while there was nobody else around and moved down the halls.

The building was mostly the same as the BLU base, if not quite so neat. A couple of Scouts were passed out on each other on a couch, their shoes in the middle of the floor. A half-full mug of something old and dark sat on a coffee table (without a coaster). There were dishes piled high in the sink and the table was dirty.

These people are pigs, he thought to himself as he headed for the infirmary. He also noted their relative absence. Were they all sleeping? It was the middle of the afternoon. There was no reason for-

“Yeah, yeah,” the Engineer shouted down the stairs he was coming up from. The sign above the doorway said intelligence. “I’ll fix the damn thing. Shut up, I’m getting on it.”

Aiden pressed himself to the wall while the man walked by, then went quietly down the stairs.

At least fifteen people were patrolling the massive hall that housed the intelligence. Sentries beeped everywhere – the only sounds except for the constantly moving feet of patrolling Soldiers.

This is insane, Aiden thought as he backed up the stairs again. He looked around and started heading back to the tunnels. Once at the door, he was a bit confused. How the hell did-

“Stupid Pyro,” the Engineer grumbled as he approached the doorway with a toolbox in his arms. “Broken my ass.” Aiden moved towards the door and jumped as it opened on its own. The Engineer stopped.

“Hey. Earl, ‘s that you?”

Nothing. Aiden backed away. The door shut. He looked down at the mat in front of the doorway and pressed one tentacle to it. The door opened.

“Shit,” the Engineer said as he drew his shotgun. Aiden stayed where he was. The Engineer peered down the stairwell and fired off a shot. It echoed loudly but otherwise did nothing.

“Well shit,” he mumbled. “Door’s broken.” He went back to the toolbox and started carrying it back over. Aiden moved the tentacle and waited. The Engineer cussed again and stepped on the mat. Aiden slipped past and sat on the stairs while the man looked for any obvious malfunctions. When he stepped off the mat and the door stayed open, he cussed again.

This is getting stupid, Aiden thought to himself as he went further down. He stayed on the bottom step, put on a BLU Spy disguise, and uncloaked.

The gun was up within seconds and pointed at him, then lowered.

“You fuckhead!” the Engineer screamed. “Were you- you were, weren’t you?! I’m gonna’ gut yer froggy ass.” He launched into a tirade as he marched down the stairs. Aiden waited until the man was on the same step as him before standing, throwing an arm around his neck, and sighing.

“Can’t a man ‘ave a little fun?” he asked in the stereotypical Spy’s voice.

“Not when yer putting lives at risk!” The Engineer whapped him over the head with his gloved hand and pushed the arm away from his shoulders. “If I ever catch you-”

“Oh, you won’t.”

“Damn straight I-”

His words were cut off as Aiden gripped the man’s head and gave it a sharp twist. He crumpled to the ground without another word. Aiden pulled him up the stairs a bit, making it look like he had fallen to his death, and then slipped into the water.

Twenty feet away, a level three sentry beeped. Aiden listened for a bit – the Pyro and other Engineer were still a ways away- and then reached up with his tentacles and dragged the whole machine down. Strong though the machine was, it was no match for him. He crushed it within seconds, then pushed the hot, smoking remains up onto the metal walkway.

“Sentry down!”

The voice was accompanied by the sound of running feet. Aiden dove deep and moved to another sentry on the other side of the tunnels.



By that night, every sentry in the tunnel system had been disabled. Half-way through his fun, a number of Pyros, Heavies, and Soldiers had come down to man the remaining sentries. They started doubling up when he dragged the Heavies and Soldiers down into the water before crushing the guns. When that happened, he waited. After a few hours, they decided that perhaps he was gone and, one-by-one, they left. He wasted no time in dispatching of the unmanned sentries and the lone guards.

By the end of the night eight bodies rest, wet and crushed, on the metal walkways.

Aiden was satisfied. He swam back to the BLU base, leaving a very confused and scared RED team wondering what had just happened.



“Nine?”

“Yes.”

“Classes?”

“Four Heavy, four Soldier, one Engineer.”

The chief Medic laughed.

“Quite incredible,” he said, grin still plastered on his face, as he inspected the series of cuts on the underside of Aiden’s tentacles. “Really, very nice. They’re weak. If we launched an attack on them tomorrow, they would be almost entirely defenseless.”

Aiden hissed and drew back as the Medic brushed a piece of embedded metal.

“Ah, sorry,” he said as he reached over for some tweezers. “Well, all in all, a bit of shrapnel is hardly much of a price to pay for twenty downed sentries and nine dead REDs.”

“Hardly,” another Medic said as he entered through the main door. Aiden’s eyes widened for a moment.

“Hello, C-9,” Loman said. Aiden noted the 2 on his lapel.

“Hello, L… M-2,” he said, a bit hesitantly. Loman continued through the doorway and then glanced behind his shoulder. “Well get in here, he’s not going to kill you.”

Aiden frowned for a moment and then his face went blank as he saw the shorter figure enter behind Loman.

No. Please, not this, he thought to himself as he shifted a bit. I can’t deal with you right now.

My apologies. I need to check these things better before posting. That's a RED Spy disguise Aiden puts on before uncloaking and talking to the Engineer.

*blames the overconsuming of holiday foods for this*

Oh, Aiden, you miserable thing! You just can't get a break. I love this story so much- even though you're breaking mi corazón.

Oh Aiden. <3 You'll be free someday, squiddles.

Is it bad that I just feel so proud of him for taking down so many RED's? D'aww, what a good boy.

And I hope that isn't Doctor Lee behind Loman, please please please

It's Emil. It is, isn't it ;_; I don't want it to be him.

Liam come baaack

Hm... so just read this all with five hours of sleep somewhere in the middle... and...

First impression of Liam: What a bitch.

And then when I found out that A) they were parting and B) they were going to be put back together. I cried a little. Keep up the awesome work!

I love you, and these updates /SOMUCH/.

It's been (I believe) nine months since the man we knew as Marcel died and was reborn as other, which raises the cautious, deeply worried question:

Is there a [i]C-10[i] yet?

Thank you all for your continued support. I'm glad that a lot of you are enjoying this (some of you in a very masochistic way) and I'm glad that I can enjoy writing this still. Here's the last bit for today.

--

XXIII

His jaw and nose were crooked, as though they’d been broken repeatedly, but they were the only signs of what they’d done to him. It was the first thing Aiden noticed when the man entered the room.

“C-9,” he muttered, looking elsewhere.

Aiden just growled.

“He’s not going to hurt you,” Loman said as he shut the door behind the other man.

“No’m not,” he said, still looking downwards. “’s against the code.”

“And your oath,” the chief Medic said as he continued digging around for shrapnel. “Don’t forget that.”

“And the oath.” He scratched the back of his head. “Can’t be a Medic ‘f you hurt people.”

“Shame you couldn’t remember that a few months ago,” Aiden spat. Emil looked up at him. His expression was hurt, but there was something odd about his eyes.

Aiden watched him warily all the same, muscles tensing when he came into the room a little further.

“Stop that,” the chief Medic said. “Don’t make this difficult.”

Aiden immediately relaxed and watched the other two Medics move towards him. He didn’t mind when Loman started assisting the chief Medic in treating his various cuts and removing small pieces of metal, but he couldn’t help but growl when Emil – or M-3 as he was now supposed to call him- started assisting Loman.

“Knock that off,” the chief Medic said. “They aren’t going to hurt you.”

Emil kept glancing between the tentacle in his hands and Aiden. Aiden kept watching the man’s face. His eyes – why did they look so weird? Whenever Emil caught him staring, he’d glance right back down at his hands.

“FUCK!” Aiden shouted before wheeling around and gripping Emil by the throat.

“Drop him,” the chief Medic said. The control was in his hand and the button was pressed. Aiden’s hands fell limply to his side.

“Sorry,” Emil muttered as he pulled the bloody scalpel from the tentacle he had sliced. He’d been gently widening a cut to retrieve the shrapnel embedded below it when he looked up at Aiden. His hand had slipped and he’d nearly cut the limb off.

Aiden continued growling and tried to pull the tentacle up towards himself. The chief Medic walked around and coaxed the limb from his grip, then examined it.

“Well,” he said with a sigh as Emil backed away a bit, “we have two options. One, stitch it up, wrap the wound, wrap it again in something waterproof, and hope it doesn’t get infected. Or we can take it off entirely and hope that you were given the regeneration abilities of cephalopods.”

“If you even try to cut it off I will-”

“Alright, alright,” he said as he pulled over a tray with stitching supplies. “No need to get worked up.” He started stitching the wound on the spot, moving quickly and deftly. Aiden narrowed his eyes and inhaled a little deeper.

He smelled like-

He went rigid. It was all he could do not to growl and rip this man’s throat out.

“Is everything fine, C-9?” Loman asked as he worked on another, smaller cut. Emil was off to the side, handing him tools as needed. His hands were shaking.

“Yessir,” he muttered. No, everything wasn’t fine.

They continued for at least another hour. It took a while to get the limb stitched together, and then there was still more metal and small cuts to be tended to. It was around midnight when they finished, and everyone was tired.

“Alright,” the chief Medic said as Loman helped Aiden down, “you’re free to go. I understand that your own method of dispatching of the sentries is effective and less likely to get you killed, but might I suggest you take the safer, saner route and sap the damn things next time?” He looked a bit grumpy, and Aiden didn’t blame him.

“Yessir,” he said as he started making his way – quite sorely- to the back door.

“Good. M-3, clean up. M-2, you are free to leave. C-9, check in here if you feel your cuts are not healing well enough in a few days.”

Aiden nodded, took one last look at the other Medics, and left. Loman had looked oddly sad, and very tired. Emil had looked… well, dead. Like they had sucked the soul right out of him.

Aiden headed down the hallway, out the door, and dropped into the cold water. He let himself sink to the deep, square recess on the bottom where the gentle flow of the water wouldn’t drag him away. And he slept.

For nearly a month he didn’t do much. He spied in the tunnels, listening to the Engineers go on about how stupid it was that they were expected to rebuild the sentries. There were two Pyros on watch now, and the door at the top of the stairs was gone. In its place was a sound that made Aiden’s skin crawl. It was a low electric field – harmless, no doubt, but enough to disrupt any Spy’s cloak or disguise.

For a while he pondered the idea of going through the field and seeing if it would disrupt the chip embedded in his neck. He theorized that it would have one of two effects. One, it would kill him, and he couldn’t say he minded that option all that much. Two, it would mess with whatever it was that transmitted the signal that allowed the control to link to it, and he’d be free to do as he wished forever. He’d start with terrorizing every single member of the BLU team, beginning with Emil.

But he didn’t try. The sound of the electricity kept him at bay and he just waited and listened.

About a month later, when he was fully healed and the sutures on his tentacle had dissolved, he went back to terrorizing the REDs. He started with the barriers in the water. It wouldn’t do to remove them entirely – that would be too obvious. Instead, he enlisted the help from the BLU chief Engineer, who let him borrow a diamond-edged hacksaw. Late at night, for two weeks, he took the saw to the bottom of the bars that made up the barriers. They were connected at the top by a horizontal metal beam that went from wall to wall, right over the water level, which allowed Aiden to cut as he wished without worrying about having to remove them altogether.

Best of all, the REDs didn’t suspect a thing. Now and again a very sleepy looking Pyro would walk down with his flamethrower, listen, and then declare that the damn coyotes needed to stop fucking when it was his turn to sleep. Otherwise, there was nothing.

And then there was the removing of the sentries. As per request, he used his sapper. He would place one on one sentry, dive under, slip through the barriers, and place it on another further down. There weren’t enough sentries up for it to be as effective as he wanted – the more spread out they were, the more fun he could have – but there were enough. By the end of one day he had six of the newest ten down and two very angry, frustrated Engineers wasting their ammo shooting into the water. By then, Aiden was on the bottom, listening to them cuss, out of reach of the guns.

He’d been steadily getting hungrier over the month that he rested, but didn’t hunt until he’d finished his first day of sapping the sentries. The next morning he awoke with a very angry, growling stomach. And when his stomach was empty, he was grumpy.

“Morning, C-9,” Loman said as Aiden surfaced. Aiden snarled at the man. “Come on, now. I was just coming to see how you’ve been.”

It was all he could do not to reach up and drag the man into the water.

“Fine,” he said through grit teeth.

“Oh. Well, that’s good. I heard that you-”

“Can this wait?” he blurted. “It’s been seven weeks since I last ate and you have blood on your shirt.”

Loman blinked, looked down, and backed up a step.

“Of course. M-my apologies. Please. I’ll… go get that cleaned up. You go get yourself some food.”

Aiden watched the man leave, submerged himself, and headed out for the river.

He ignored the plethora of fish that he passed, didn’t make a swipe at the pair of otters that tried to play with him, and didn’t think twice about the bear he could smell fishing upstream. He had an Engineer in mind.

The previous day, while he’d been destroying sentries, one of the Engineers had thrown his wrench into the water and clocked Aiden in the mouth. He’d had to leave and wait for the bleeding to die down in the river before continuing. It had cost him at least an hour, and he’d come to notice that, lately, he was not a patient man.

Sure enough, the same Engineer was tending his sentries, talking to them about how well he was going to protect them.

Not today, he thought as he rose, cloaked, and sniffed the air. There was a Pyro not too far away, and another Engineer a bit deeper into the tunnels.

Aiden quietly slipped the sapper on the sentry and waited. The Engineer had his wrench on the thing immediately and it fell off with a buzz. The Engineer whistled and a Pyro came running. He bathed the tunnel in the fire and started running down the tunnel, lighting it.

Aiden reached up and placed another sapper. The Engineer was quick – he hit his hand with the wrench before he could get it away and the cloak dropped.

“Sweet Je-”

Aiden clamped his mouth around his throat, wrapped his lower half around his body, and squeezed. He let out one pathetic moan and then fell with Aiden into the water.

He swam off through the tunnels. It was a bit harder trying to squeeze a fat, dead Engineer through the holes he’d cut for himself, but he made it work.

Once in the river, he stripped the man, let his clothes drift downstream, and tore his neck open more fully, allowing more of the blood to drain. He didn’t want to muddy up his waters.

He pulled the body deep into the bottom of the river and started eating. He had to chase off a few snapping turtles and the bear that was fishing upstream came closer to investigate, but otherwise he was undisturbed.

Smack me with a wrench, will you? he thought to himself as he tore into the Engineer. Twice! You’d better not have broken my hand. And he might have. The back of the hand that had been hit with the wrench was swollen, bruised, and very painful.

About an hour later, he released what remained of the man – which wasn’t much- into the river and watched as various fish and turtles immediately attacked it. He swam back to his little sleeping corner and almost immediately passed out, thankful for stupid Engineers, stupid Pyros, expanding stomachs, and a metabolism that made it that he only had to endure the gruesome experience of eating a human being once every five or six weeks.

And jsut to add my opinion... ETIENNE?! YES?

Most people think that they have guessed the fate of Etienne. I absolutely WILL NOT comment on the subject except to acknowledge everyone's questions about him (both here and asked by other people via email and such)and tell you that you may be right, you may be wrong. That is all you will get.

All of my love,
-C

Poor Etienne. :< Poor Aiden.

gods I love you. This is magnificent and I just freak out everytime I see an update. You. Are. Amazing. Keep it coming!!!

Wasn't expecting an update 'til Monday so I am very very happy soul :D

And just wanted to say that, for me, this has been a shit holiday break, being "home" with the parentals etc., and Ive been reading this pretty much nonstop since last night....basically, just saying thanks for distracting me from the crappiness that is not being in school! Lurking this chan is what's keeping me sane at the moment, however sad that is :/ SO KEEP UP THE AWESOME WRITINGS, YEAH? <3

He he. Yay update! Not that I didn't read an update from you 12 hours ago. Haha. Wonderful. Just wonderful.
I want to strangle Emil for just being there and the head Medic... because I don't like him. You're making me feel very sorry for Loman though. Poor guy. :(
Aiden = best Spy ever! And I've got my own theories about Etienne, but I suppose I'll keep those to myself. Totally missing Liam right about now too. Sigh.
If i didn't know better I'd say I can't wait for the next update--which I can't--but you don't make your adoring fans wait for more then about a day, if that. Thank you for spoiling us with your awesome writing!

Thanks! And yes, I do spoil you all. Unfortunately that's going to have to end. End of the semester crackdown, finals, jobs and what have you. I was sick last week and at home this week, which meant I had more time to write. If anything, probably the worst time to start because soon you'll be seeing maybe an update a day if you're lucky (as opposed to the regular two or three), most likely as little as one every two or three days, and you'll all be going CRAZY! That's my theory, anyways. I'm just as addicted to writing this as you all seem to be to reading it, so I'll probably forgo the whole sleeping thing and keep up the high post rate. Who knows?

(Channels the Soldier) Sleep is for the WEAK! You will WRITE! For great JUSTICE! (/channels)

Nah, I kid. We readers can be the worst slave drivers. (Don't those Philistines realize we have lives outside of TF2chan? *grins*)

Anyway, do what you need to get done. We can survive as long as you update once in a while to let us know you're still alive and working on this. It's not like we know where you live... *grins again*

>>7319
He was the only possibility not yet suggested that I had thought of. I know deep down in my heart what has happened to him... but that shall be suppressed and go unmentioned...

As long as you keep updating I think we'll be able to handle the wait, with out--you know--exploding from lack of awesome. It will be difficult, but we'll survive. :D

XXIV

Aiden was cloaked and peering out from the surface of the slowly moving water. His tentacles moved slowly in the current, pulsating, keeping him almost entirely still. The sentry in front of him beeped rhythmically, whirring and clicking with each turn. Her Engineer wasn’t too far away, wrench in hand. A Pyro was crouched behind him.

They knew that he was there.

They’d discovered the holes in their barriers and tried to fix them, but Aiden had just cut new ones. After that, they just patched up the holes with sheet metal. This was their mistake. Once again, the Spy had enlisted the help of the chief Engineer and cut away the metal so that it could be bent back without being removed. For a while the REDs were certain that they’d scared off whatever it was that was cutting holes in their barriers, but when their sentries started disappearing again in that same, eerie manner, they looked into it, removed the sheet metal, and came up with a new plan.

The Engineers took the health sensors from several sentries and applied them to the metal bars. Any time they were touched at all by anything except for the gentle current of the water, it registered to the Engineer’s alerts as damage.

Aiden found this out fairly quickly. He tried to remove a sensor, but before he could get it off he found himself being shot at by a Heavy whose gun was inches from the surface of the water.

So he left them. From then on he was careful, trying not to bump the bars whenever he went through. This proved difficult, but not impossible.

But it seemed he had been careless that evening. For a while he watched them, wondering if he could take down the Engineer and get to the water before the Pyro went after him.

It wasn’t worth it, he decided, orders or not. That damn Medic could shove it if he expected him to disable the sentries with the Engineer and his watchdog Pyro manning the basement doors.

With that in mind, Aiden ducked down and left. He was still careful – if he tripped the sensors, the REDs could follow his path through the barriers. This time he made it through without hitting any of the bars.

Once in the river, he closed his eyes and let the current take him downstream a bit. The water was warmer and livelier than it had been earlier that spring, and on nights when the Medic didn’t expect a report from him, he allowed himself the luxury of exploring it.

It was the only thing that was keeping him sane. The new base was slowly driving him up the walls. The manner by which the BLUs regarded him was the worst of it all. Those that he saw fairly regularly – the Medics and the chiefs of each class- met him with a haughty sort of authority. They felt bad for him, (well, most of them did) yet they didn’t mind treating him like a dog. And then there were those with whom he was not supposed to have extended contact. They were nervous whenever he passed by on his way to this or that, or if they were in the infirmary at the same time.

And then there were the REDs. They were paranoid, the whole lot of them, and very uptight. They knew that something was in the water – and, by the way they acted, Aiden would guess that they’d been suspecting that since long before he came around. Sometimes this paranoia was exploitable – they jumped at every sound, making it easy to confuse and scare some of them (he had the best luck with Scouts, Demos, and one particular Medic).But it also made them more dangerous than he would have liked. They shot at everything – even if nothing was there – and some of them (namely Soldiers and the occasional Sniper who passed by) had no issues jumping right into the water to chase after him, even if they couldn’t see him. They just took out their kukris and shovels and one time a wrench (that was one tenacious Engineer) and just started tearing the water apart. One more than one occasion, Aiden had been hit. Luckily for him, the people doing the hitting were too stunned when they saw him to do any more hitting, and they went down fast and easy.

But that was neither here nor there. Aiden was in the river, allowing it to carry him unseen further down into deeper, wider, faster waters. There were rapids about a mile out that he knew to avoid, but he didn’t plan on going that far this time. Once he was a few hundred yards downstream of them base, he dived deeper, wrapped a tentacle around a fallen log, took off his clothes, stuffed them in an opening in the log, and just let the current push at him.

It was the only calming thing left in his life. Everything else he knew had turned to chaos. He didn’t question the mayhem – in fact, most of the time, he welcomed it. Anything to keep the boredom at bay. But it made him angry to be around those people – RED or BLU.


So he left whenever he could, anchored himself in the river, and let his mind go blank. Sometimes for hours – once for a whole day.

The only downside (if it could be called such) was that, for reasons unknown, he often came out of this semi-trance very, very aroused. Usually he took care of himself on the spot and then returned to the BLU tunnels to sleep, but sometimes that didn’t work.

It was dark when Aiden came out of his near-sleep, mindless state. He shivered and instantly gripped his most sensitive tentacle. The image of Liam flashed through his mind – as it usually did, along with a trace of his scent – and he growled.

Why aren’t you here when I need you? he wondered. He growled again, released the tentacle, and looked around for his clothes. After a few moments it became apparent that they had somehow become dislodged from the log and were swept far downstream. He growled again and darted off for the RED waters.

Fuck, I don’t need you. He slipped through the bars, deliberately touching one and then slipping carefully through the rest of the barriers undetected. Just as predicted, the Pyro and Engineer were once more on high alert, watching the water carefully. Aiden pushed further into the tunnels, occasionally touching a bar and then surfacing to watch. The Pyro was following, lighting up the tunnels with his flamethrower.

Good.

Aiden went deep into the channels until he was certain the Engineer wouldn’t hear anything, and then rose to the surface, snaked a couple of tentacles around the Pyro’s boots, and dragged him under.

He quickly disarmed the alarmed man, pulling his shotgun, flamethrower, and axe away and letting them drop to the bottom. Then he ripped his mask off and studied his face. It was round and heavily freckled, topped with an unruly, greasy mop of blonde hair. Underwater as they were, he couldn’t understand the man’s panicked gibberish. And he really didn’t care what he had to say, but he couldn’t have him drowning yet, so he pushed him to the surface.

“Please don’t kill me,” he whined, “please, please, please, oh please.” He gasped between each word and continued struggling against the ever-tightening tentacles.

“I have no intentions to,” Aiden said as he leaned in and pressed his face to the man’s neck. “Yet.” He inhaled deeply. His sweat was different, his soap was different, the food he ate was different, but the fire and grease and heat smells were the same.

The man trembled in his grip and made small, panicked sounds with every breath.

“Shh, fat one,” Aiden said as he grew more aroused. Some faraway, human part of him wanted to know what was wrong with him. He was sick if the struggling of a chubby Pyro was turning him on. Then again, he’d been horny to begin with, after his little session in the river…

“Please just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Don’t eat me.” The sound was pathetic.

“Shh.” He nipped the young man’s earlobe, tearing it clean off. The Pyro wailed but the sound was cut off by a tentacle to his mouth. After tasting the small chunk of flesh, Aiden spit it out. “I can not eat you. I would have a heart attack.”

The Pyro’s eyes went wide and he whined again. Aiden tightened his grip and growled.

“Now tell me,” he said as he started pulling away the flame-retardant suit, “of all the Pyros here in your base, do you know of any named Liam?”

“W-we don’t ask names or-”

“Fine. He is tall and thick. Like a healthy Heavy.”

“I’ve never seen a Pyro like that, we’re all short and-”

And that was enough for Aiden. He ripped the suit off of the man and wrapped his tentacles around his bare flesh.

“Then you will have to do for now,” he said before sinking his teeth into the man’s shoulder. He screamed. A tentacle –his most sensitive one- went to his mouth and covered it. Another pressed against his buttocks, and a third came up over the Pyro’s left eye.

“Shh,” he said against the muffled, panicked sobs. “Be quiet.” He squeezed the other non-occupied tentacles around the man’s midsection and legs. “Just… be quiet.” He pressed his mouth to the shoulder again and bit while the three tentacles started pressing inwards. The man struggled again and, with a snarl, Aiden shoved all three limbs into the respective orifices hard and fast and dived under the water.

Blood clouded the water – not that Aiden minded. The vibrations of the man’s screaming against his tentacle sent him off and he came, twitching and shuddering and biting deeper into the Pyro’s shoulder, until the sounds died off. He pulled the limbs out of the Pyro and inspected him. He’d suffocated on the tentacle in his mouth.

“Serves you right,” Aiden muttered as he pushed the body up onto the walkway. He shoved the clothes and weapons as well, and then swam a few paces back to take a look.

For a few moments, he was happy. He’d killed a RED – a Pyro, his mortal enemy, at that- and gotten a little satisfaction out of it.

And then he was horrified. The tiny, malnourished human conscience that he still had buried away somewhere surfaced and he backed away even more. He bumped into the nearest barrier, gripped it, and emptied whatever was left of his last meal (three weeks ago) into the water.

“Shit,” he said as he dived under.

Nothing to be ashamed of, he tried to convince himself as he passed through the barriers towards the entrance of the tunnel. Sonovabitches wanted a monster, they got one. He gasped as the bullet from a sentry grazed his shoulder –Which meant he’d forotten his cloak.

He dived deeper, cloaked, came up, dragged the sentry in, and crushed it. Her attending Engineer picked up his shotgun and aimed at Aiden.

Yeah, they want a monster? He growled and reached up, snatching the gun from the Engineer and snapping it in half. He gripped the fleeing man by the ankles and dragged him into the water.

Well here it is. He bit into the Engineer’s nose and tore it off while the lower half of his body wrapped around the man.

I give up. The man screamed. Aiden’s mouth went to his and ripped the flesh off of the bones. He ate it – trying to replace the food he’s lost- and then bit into his upper arm.

I give up. He started eating him – small pieces here and there, nothing vital. He would eventually- and probably soon- succumb to blood loss, but not yet.

I give up. Full, he pushed the still-screaming (albeit weakly) and twitching man onto the metal walkway, and then onto the stairs. He reached up and broke his arm, causing him to cry out louder, and waited until he heard the pounding of approaching footsteps. Then he cloaked again, dived under the water, and left.

I give up.

OH MY GOD, HOLY SHIT

AWESOME

This has been one of my favorite updates so far.

Yessssss.

I want to scream "NO" and "YES" at the same time...

ANGRY MENTAL TENTASPY BREAKDOWN yessss
O Aiden! I fucking love you and your delicious malevolence.

Also. What Scrunchy and ispy said.

Oohh... Poor Aiden.

woah...this chapter is awesome

Oh fuuuuck, this chapter is win.

Aiden noooo~ poor guy. D:

I agree with Scrunchy.
Oh god this update
I am so please right now you don't even-

>>7324 Take yer time, each part's worth the wait--and even an update every several days is quite a good rate.

ALSO OH MY GOD THIS CHAPTER. I LOVE IT. I LOVE YOU. HOLY FUCK IT'S HOT AND AWESOME AND FFFFFYES.

I'll be in my aquariu--bunk. Be in my bunk.

Holy shit! Can't wait for the next update. :3

XXV


In the cool depths of the mostly still waters under the BLU base, Aiden slept far too easily for one who had just abandoned the last traces of his humanity.

Had he been awake, he would have known that it was too good to be true.

The sound of feet on the metal walkway above him echoed, penetrating the dark waters in a way that the dim lights above could not. Aiden, naked and angry, rose to the surface and peered up at the intruder.

Emil.

It was late. It was the type of late when everyone who was asleep was deep asleep and everyone who was awake was either drunk or in a state of perpetual restlessness, pacing the battlements in the hopes of an intruder to pass the time with. The vacant-eyed Medic certainly wasn’t doing the latter and, while he didn’t smell like the former, Aiden’s mind was made up.

Without any warning he reached up and dragged the man into the waters. He coiled his lower limbs around his frantically thrashing arms and legs and wrapped his hands around his throat.

“STOP!”

The order fell on deaf ears. Aiden was lost in the memory of everything this man had done to him. He had never felt so ashamed of himself as the drunken nights when the poor excuse for a human being had stumbled into his tunnels and forced himself upon him.

You deserve nothing less than a slow and painful death. If he could have said it aloud under the water, he would have. Instead, he squeezed harder.

“C-9, STOP!”

You will burn from the inside out. Whoever had shouted for him to stop ran off back towards the infirmary. Emil still struggled, but his movements were growing weaker.

And when you are done burning, I will give you your precious fucking air, and then I will make your beating and your drunken rape sessions look like a happy fucking Sunday outing. Like everyday child’s fucking play.

Emil’s struggles were weaker yet and Aiden could feel his heart, previously going a mile a minute, slowing considerably. He removed his hands and pushed the man onto the metal walkway, then hoisted himself up and re-wrapped his tentacles around him. His breaths came in great, heaving gasps.

“I am not going to kill you,” Aiden said as he leaned down and pressed his mouth to the man’s ear. “You will not be a casualty of war.” The door opened in front of him and whoever was behind it paused. “I am going to murder you.”

“C-9, stop it right now.”

He felt a distinct tingle at the back of his neck. His tentacles released the man of their own accord and he pushed himself back into the water, too irate even to growl.

Loman put the control into his pocket and bent down over the gasping, whining younger man. He touched his throat, took his pulse, and sighed. It was a relieved sound.

“You did not do much damage,” he said as he hefted the man up, pulled his arm around his shoulder, and opened the door. “But it would appear that you and I need to talk. Stay right there.”

Aiden obeyed, eyes narrow and fixed on the older German, the only sign of his fury. Loman returned a few minutes later with a box. He put it down, sat on it, rested his arms on his knees, and took a deep breath.

“I don’t know what M-3 did to you, but-”

“Emil nearly-”

“Emil is dead,” he interrupted, a bit forcefully. Loman cleared his throat. “Emil is dead,” he repeated, softer. “When you admitted to Doctor Lee that something had happened, he took Emil behind the base and locked him in an unused shed - to prevent anything else from happening until he the proper measures could be taken to permanently fix him. He said that he didn’t want to kill him because he was a talented Medic, ‘sickness’ aside. So, when he returned to the compound with you, he brought Emil along with him and, well, he fixed him. I don’t know what exactly he did, but whatever it was, Emil is gone.”

Aiden’s expression went from livid to curious as the Medic talked.

“So what is he now, then?” he asked.

“M-3 is a skilled Medic who is well aware that he has done something to cause you pain. He is fearful of you and any retaliation you might have in mind. But that is all he knows.” He shifted a bit, clasping his hands together and leaning forward. “Whatever they did to him messed him up. He knows that he has a family, but doesn’t remember their names or where they live. He doesn’t know how many children he has or how old they are – or how old he is, for that matter. He barely remembers his name. All he knows are that things happened – he had a family, he did something to you. But specifics are gone. At any given moment, he knows only how to save a man from dying, that he has a family, and that he did something to and therefore must fear you.”

Aiden shuddered and growled.

“What?” Loman sat up a bit straighter and put his hands on his knees.

“I can’t do anything,” Aiden said as he gripped the edge of the metal platform and let his lower limbs squeeze each other. “I can’t do anything to him.” He clenched his teeth and leaned his head against the metal. He was shaking.

“What are you talking about?” Loman pushed the box back a bit.

“You don’t understand.” Aiden’s breathing picked up. “I need to kill him, I need some tangible retribution. He’s already dead. If I kill him I would be saving him. He’s already in hell. He’s already dead.”

Loman was clearly disturbed. He stood and cleared his throat before putting his hand in his pocket and pressing a button on the control.

“C-9, you will never try to kill a BLU who is not trying to kill you ever again,” he said. Aiden’s eyes first went wide and then he shut them as he shuddered. “Am I understood?”

“Yes,” he said, voice unsteady. He was livid.

“Good.” Loman turned and put his hand on the door.

“You came for something,” Aiden said. “You woke me up for something, and it wasn’t to explain how Emil died. Why are you here?”

Loman frowned, then reached into his other pocket, nodding.

“So we did.” He pulled out something small and square and placed it at the edge of the platform. It was a paperback novel, old and tattered. Each page had been carefully laminated. “You probably don’t remember this,” he said hesitantly, “but at the old fort, there was a tradition. We didn’t know birthdays, but we knew when we came to the base. So we –at least, most of us- treated those anniversaries like birthdays.” He shuffled a bit. “You spend a fair amount of time sleeping – more than I think is healthy – so I found you this. It was Em-… M-3’s idea to waterproof it. He wanted to make sure it survived long enough for you to read it.” He crossed his arms… “He really does want to do whatever it takes to make you not hate him.”… and then uncrossed them. “He couldn’t wait for morning. When I told him it was three years at midnight, he just couldn’t wait. So… well, there you go. Happy birthday from M-3 and myself. Three years ago headquarters sent a young, stupid Spy named Marcel to our back door. This was his favourite book. I found it in his things right after he left and I couldn’t bring myself to throw away a good book.”

He cleared his throat. His voice was unsteady. “And here you are.” His hand went to his face and he wiped at his nose. “And here I am.” He shook his head, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Here I am.” After a few moments he took a deep breath, shook his head again, and finally turned and left.

Aiden looked up at the closing door. Had Loman really been crying? He looked at the book on the platform, picked it up, and sank to the bottom of the water. His anger was gone.

He sniffed the book. Even with the plastic covering, he could smell – very faintly- traces of a man named Marcel. He flipped through it, fingers trying to remember old and familiar pages. He read the first page. It was all new to him.

It’s gone.

What did that mean? He flipped through the book again.

It’s gone.

“No,” he said, the word distorted in the water. He re-read the first page. The book was well-loved, coffee stains and the creases from numerous dog ears testament to multiple readings. Yet he remembered nothing of it – nor did he particularly care for the story (at least he didn’t like the first page).

It’s gone.

“It’s gone.”

He shuddered, grit his teeth, and screamed before biting into the book and tearing it apart. Then he tore those pieces into smaller pieces and watched, shaking, as they drifted lazily about in the still water. One particular shred – a bit larger than the others – caught his eye. He snagged it and read it over. The words had been highlighted and circled.

“We are all born for love," said Morley. "It is the principle of existence, and its only end.*”

He mouthed the words as he read them and then stiffened. How many times had those same lips mouthed those same words to a man named Etienne?

“What am I?” he asked himself, voice shaking and lost in the water.

I am not born, I am made.

“I am made.”

I am a monster.

“I am a monster.”

He re-read the passage, but the memory – Marcel, Etienne, nights spent reading and re-reading- had escaped, once more beyond his reach.

Where is it?

He started grabbing at random scraps of paper and reading their fragmented, now-meaningless words.

“Where is it?”

There was nothing. He sniffed each piece. There was nothing.

“WHERE IS IT?” He gripped his hair and screamed.

It was gone.


(* = (Sybil, Benjamin Disraeli)