Summary: Lukewarm water surrounded him at all sides, yet he dove ever deeper. Away from the sounds of battle and the calls of his team mates.

Warnings: Dark themes and... cannibalism?

A/N: Have you ever worked on something for so long that the mere sight of it makes you fall into a state of despair? That's how I feel about this story. I'm going to publish it anyway, just to get it over and done with. And start working on something a bit closer to my original style.

This was meant for Halloween, but... If there are any mistakes, I'll probably correct them later on when and if I spot them.

Team Fortress 2

Seven days to the deep end

Lukewarm water surrounded him at all sides, yet he dove ever deeper. Away from the sounds of battle and the calls of his team mates. Somehow, they just didn't matter at that time. The enemy intelligence didn't matter. The battle just... didn't matter. Taking a deep breath, he smiled and dove further into the dark depths.

Thirst was the first thing Scout came aware of when he woke up. Second was the sound of snoring from his team mates. Groggily, the boy climbed out of his cot and made his way towards the kitchen. God... his throat felt dry as hell. It was almost painful.

Barely aware of what he was doing, Scout stumbled through the darkened blue hallways, found the mug he'd used the evening before, and filled it with water. Maybe he was getting sick. His head didn't feel quite right. He emptied his mug in one go, and was in the middle refilling it when blue eyes strayed in the direction of the locker rooms.

He could really use a shower...

Day one:

The air in the barracks was dry... so dry that the boy could feel his lungs shrivelling with each breath. Honestly, he couldn't be certain how much water he'd been drinking, but it wasn't enough. It felt like it would never be enough.

Scout was aware of his team mates glancing at him, some more subtly than others, but he didn't care. Even with the windows wide open, he couldn't be the only one uncomfortable there.

"You're not getting sick on us, are you," Sniper asked, peering over the rim of his aviators. As soon as he'd spoken, Scout felt his irritation turn into a burst of anger.

"No!" the boy snapped, before taking a deep breath. The air was so dry it almost made him cough right then and there. And... perhaps Snipes didn't deserve to be yelled at... "'M just thirsty." The words came out in a mumble and Scout averted his eyes. Not because he felt ashamed, no. He just... didn't want to see the older man at that moment.

Their spy's teasing voice pierced the stifling silence and the sound of it grated on Scout's nerves far worse than his words did:

"Per'aps you're developing diabetez. It wouldn't surprise me whiz all those zugar-filled sodas you've had-"

"I ain't sick!" the boy all but shouted, slamming his cup on the table and surprising the rest of his team. It was too hot and too dusty and everyone was getting on his nerves! "I... I'm gonna take a shower."

He didn't wait for anyone to reply before fleeing towards the locker room. Yes, a shower would make everything better.

Day two:

"Hey Doc, got anything for a headache?"

Medic cast a criticising look at the boy's pitiful expression and pale face. In the background the Announcer's voice called out the two minute time mark.

"At such short notice, I can only offer a liquid solution," he answered, bringing out a syringe of morphine, more for show than anything else. And as he expected, the boy cringed at the very sight of a needle. Medic almost put away his offer before he heard Scout's muttered agreement. Startled, the older gentleman stared at his team mate's outstretched arm a moment before plunging the needle in.

Scout winced and tried to ignore the way Medic studied him. Maybe, Scout thought, he should have said no to the needle, but his head was seriously killing him, and he doubted he'd be able to do anything unless the sharp, screeching pain in his scull stopped.

"Fucking flu..." the boy muttered, mostly to himself. But at such a close distance, Medic caught the words and narrowed his eyes. A blue glove was pulled off and the back of a cool hand pressed against Scout's forehead.

He startled and nearly pulled away on pure instinct before realizing that the other was, more or less, fussing over him a bit. Snapping himself out of his little trance Scout made a point to complain, although, on the inside, he couldn't help but feel a bit content. Sometimes it was nice to be coddled. Just a little.

The sixty seconds mark was announced and Medic pulled his glove back on, muttering about a thorough physical examination. Scout sighed, then sullenly pulled his baseball cap in place, nearly covering his eyes.

Day three:

It was the red pyro that chased him into the water. There was a nasty burn along his left shoulder, but with some struggling, Scout managed to pull out his pistol and aim it towards the surface but only body parts of the mutant fell into the water, rather than a living mercenary.

Soldier's rocket, or maybe a sticky bomb.

Relaxing slightly, the boy looked around himself. He didn't usually travel through the sewers, but... today had been a crappy day as a whole. Scout spotted the underwater entrance to what he supposed was the RED base some feet away and began swimming towards it. True, his shoulder stung like crazy, but that was something he could deal with later. He wasn't even sure where their medic was at that point anyway.

From the corner of his eyes he saw the red pyro's floating remains seep out strange red shapes; blood mixing with water and twirling around in small currents. It was almost hypnotic.

Movement caught Scout's eye, and he looked at it as well as he could under water. A few kicks brought the boy closer and he narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see better while his body began to float towards the surface.

It took a moment, and a few struggling movements against the current, but finally he saw the opening of a dark tunnel and... something was moving only just inside of it. A strange, almost formless figure shifting in the shadows. It tilted what Scout guessed was it's head, and a pair of pale eyes reflected the light from above.

The eyes were looking at him, or so Scout assumed, and he stared back; wide-eyed and frozen while the taste of blood seeped past his lips. Barely even aware of the currents lifting him upwards, Scout watched as the figure moved again, as if unsure whether to continue forward or not.

Something reddish sneaked it's way outside the opening. It... was that a snake..?

In the end it was Heavy's large hand that pulled Scout out of the canal. The boy gasped for air that he hadn't even realized he needed.

"Scout is cold," the large man commented and lifted his find over his shoulder like a dripping-wet sack of... something. "Not good to be so long in water." And before Scout could defend himself, or even think of an answer, they'd set off towards their doctor in a light jog.

Day four:

The strangest thing happened that day; Scout found a undisturbed corner on the battlefield to dry-heave in. He felt like crap; his head was hurting, his entire body was itching, he was hungry and -was that meat dangling in front of his face?

"Eat it, boy. You'll feel better."

He really should have stopped to consider it. He should have turned around to see who it was or even wondered why the speaker sounded so amused, but the light was hurting his eyes and he felt so thirsty and, really, it smelled kind of good...

Scout snatched the red clump of meat and eagerly tore into it.

"Hmm... I zee I was right after all."

Still chewing, Scout glanced to the side and saw a well polished shoe. Then, squinting against the light, he followed the pinstripe suit up to a sharp toothed smile. If he'd had more energy he would have swung his bat into the smug bastards face.

"You should reconsider your diet... you need proper meals."

The spy winked at him before disappearing to thin air. Scout swallowed and lowered his eyes to the, rather raw, meat in his hands. He actually felt better now.

Day five:

The food didn't taste bad at all. Not like it sometimes did. It was just lacking something. It wasn't... fresh enough.

Scout put down his spork and pushed the plate further away.

"What's the matter, boy? Food not good enough for you?" Soldier asked. There was a sharpness in his words that made the boy sit a little straighter.

"'s not that," Scout muttered, and he would have denied the pout, had anyone mentioned it. Engineer reached over the dinner table and gently pushed the plate back under his nose.

"Eat up, son," he ordered firmly, but not without a smile. "You're still young. You need your meals." Scout couldn't quite hide his flinch.

'...you need proper meals,' that smug bastard has said before disappearing. He didn't want his team to remind him of that. Scout stared dejectedly down at the mash of potatoes and meat, feeling like he really couldn't swallow any more. Even the smell was suppressing.

"Hwo hwrrhgt?" Pyro tilted it's head. "Hwo hllk phhlll."

Some looked up from their dinner, others didn't, yet everyone's attention was more or less on the events unfolding.

"I just... I feel like..." Scout had to pause for a moment to figure out what exactly it was that he was feeling. It was oppressing and stuck in his throat and...

Eyes widening, the boy shoved himself away from the table with a force that sent his chair toppling over. It was lucky that he ran for a living, otherwise he would never have made it to the kitchen sink before all he'd eaten made its way back out. From behind him he could hear cursing and the clatter of sporks being dropped on plates.

Medic's cool hand pressed against Scout's forehead briefly before the doctor pulled away and frowned. Then, muttering to himself, he manhandled his younger team mate towards the door:

"I vant you to go to ze infirmary, right now."

Day six:

To be fair, Scout wasn't even supposed to be outside. He'd been excused from the battles until whatever was wrong with him got fixed, or at the very least until he stopped throwing up. But really, what was he expected to do when he saw the red medic run past their base's window?

Now, Scout didn't know why the enemy medic was so far on the wrong side of the battle field, rather than doing medical stuff with other reds, but he didn't much care either. What he did care about was that there was an enemy running around at their base, and Scout was the only one there to stop them.

By the time the boy made it outside, scattergun in hand, he barely caught a glimpse of a white coat before it disappeared behind a corner. With two long leaps, he was already catching up.

The chase was over far too soon. The moment he saw the red, Scout jumped into the air to avoid skidding on loose gravel, then took aim and fired twice. The medic probably didn't know what was happening before his back tore open and his scull splattered on the walls. Scout threw his hands up in victory as soon as his feet hit the ground.

"Aw, yeah! Headshot!"

But his celebration was short lived and he nearly collapsed. There was no one there to share the amazing kill with, and that little sprint had used up all of his remaining strength. Scout was hungry now... so incredibly hungry; stomach beginning to turn...

The red medic's body still lay there in a bloodied mess, its smell drifting towards him, like that meat he'd eaten the other day. And really, who was there to see him if he'd just... take a little nibble...

No one. No one would notice. Just a small bite. Just enough to settle his hunger a bit. Just a few mouthfuls of fresh, tender... soft... filling... delicious...

Scout chewed with blunt teeth and swallowed happily, digging another piece from the corpse before it disappeared into re-spawn.

Then, staring down at his bloodied hands, somewhere caught between shock and pure terror, he slowly drew a deep breath and finally realized what he was doing.

Jumping up on unsteady feet with a shout that sounded more like a choked whimper, the boy ran a hand through his hair and accidentally knocked his cap off as he tried to look around the crates and barrels for help. His eyes filled with tears and he couldn't stop shaking but somehow managed to stumble over to a wall for support.

The distortion of red wasn't as out of place as one could imagine. If something did surprise Scout, it was that the spy hadn't simply taken the opportunity to kill him. He watched as the spy moved closer, and what looked like a far too wide smile split the man's face in two, balaclava and all. But with tears still blurring his vision, Scout couldn't quite trust what he saw.

"Your mother and I never talked about ze possibilities. I did not want to worry her."

The red spy's calm, almost self-satisfied voice seemed so out of place that Scout couldn't even think of a protest. The older man leaned against the wall, completely unaffected by what he'd witnessed.

"You're confused, I'm sure," the spy continued, reaching out hand to pat Scout's head and causing the boy to flinch away. "Come meet me by ze canal some day after dark, if you want to know what's happening to you."

It was too much. The scout turned away as quickly as he could and ran.

Day seven:

The red spy was, as he'd said earlier, down in the canal, actually in the water, when Scout finally decided sneak out and meet him, just after everyone else had gone to bed. There were a few things the boy could have said about it, mostly related to how the snob's suit was now ruined, but if the spy really knew something, it might have been better to stay silent. Instead he gave the man a dirty look that said all he'd ever wanted to. The spy only laughed.

"So, you came after all," he said calmly. Scout crossed his arms defensively.

"Yeah, so..." Scout crouched down by the edge of the water, ready to bolt if necessary. The red spy's grey, strangely pale eyes settled on him and he smiled, showing off sharp teeth. "About yesterday... and your doc..." Scout hesitated, not wanting to think about it and the spy nodded.

"It's perfectly normal," he answered and waved a hand carelessly. The water around him rippled, drawing Scout's attention. It struck him that what had from afar looked like a suit, seemed like body paint up close. "You're coming of age, boy. It is something your mother and I thought might happen." Taking note of Scout's silence he smirked and tilted his head. The light reflecting in his eyes turned them almost white.

"You're too used to moving on land, and clumsily at that, but I'm sure we can yet turn you into a proper predator."

Thick, deep red limbs slowly coiled around in the water, rising and lowering, one after the other, each of them twisting unnaturally, almost like... like...

Transfixed by the sight, Scout could only hear the prideful smugness as the spy continued:

"You are my son, after all."

The End.