The hallway was empty as the Scout skidded to a halt on the linoleum tiles beneath him. Frantic panic starting to overtake him once more as it became clear that their defendants were nowhere to be seen.

Where, where could of those two gone? Had they just wandered off, bored and in search of something to set on fire and blow up? Or had they been taken out?

Where they gone? Permanently?

Pushing such thoughts out of his head, he started running again. There hadn't been any static, so they had to be alive. He clung onto that fact, using it to smother the fear that was threatening to overtake him again. He was not going to die here.

No one was.

As he took the stairs two at a time, the previous silence of the base giving away to the discord of battle, faint, but reassuringly there. Heading towards it, he swapped his pistol out for his more powerful scattergun, ready for whatever or whomever he would face out there.

He ran out of the RED base, his mind shifting gears from stealth to combat, eyes scanning the clearing before him, The faint discord turning into a full on cacophony as he suddenly found himself in the middle of a battle between two black mesa agents and one of their own mercenaries clad in blue army fatigues and an oversized helmet as he ran full tilt into the fray.

The Soldier yelled something to him, as less than a moment later, an explosive rocket crackling with arcane blue energy flew by him, slicing through the air he had been standing in just moment earlier. He swung around to face his enemies and blindly fired his entire magazine at the orange-and-black clad attackers.

His shot was responded with a rapid burst of fire from the first agent – a figure clad in black riot gear with an orange shield detailed on his arm – and scout bit back a yelp of pain as the bullets tore through his side. His own six shots missed, hitting instead the man's clear riot shield strapped to his arm.

The other agent ignored the Scout, instead focusing on the Soldier as the American let loose another barrage of rockets. The man was the third man he had seen around the fire back at flagrun, wielding the same, bulky gun Scout had seen him carry onto the teleporter, its barrel crackling with orange energy and letting out a low, electronic hum.

"PRIVATE!"

The runner was suddenly dragged forwards as the Soldier reached out and grabbed him by his dogtags as the humming suddenly peaked in intensity and pitch.

"GET DOWN!"

He was suddenly thrown to the dusty ground of the map as a split second later, a wide fan of bright orange laser-like beams sliced through the air he had just occupied. The man beside him let out a grunt of pain, but otherwise didn't show any other obvious reaction or pain.

One of their attackers let out a cry of pain as the Soldier fired off a rocket in response, the resulting explosion taking out the buff american and making the Scout's ears ring painfully.

He lay there for a moment, momentarily dazed by the sudden explosion so close to his head, before being suddenly jerked upwards again to be faced with the Soldier yelling at incomprehensibly at him.

His mind rapidly clearing, the runner blindly nodded and was shoved in the general direction of the base by the american.

He stumbled for a step or two, before getting his feet beneath him and managing to push himself into a sprint.

Behind him, he heard the Soldier let out a deafeningly loud guttural yell, followed by the crack of metal shovel blade against bone and a scream of pain in response from their armoured attacker.

On any other day, Scout would've stopped to smirk and shoot back a one-liner at the Assault. After six years of fighting alongside and against the Soldier, you learned to never underestimate the power of a bloodlusted Soldier and his shovel.

But this wasn't any other day.

He ran forwards, into the dark cement interior of their base. He didn't have time for that. He had to find his team before something happened, before respawn went down or someone else came or–

Thwish

The single, all too familiar sound of a syringe gun resonated through the pre-morning twilight, followed seconds later by a sharp pain and the dull sound of one of its hypodermic projectiles hitting flesh.

Letting out a sudden yell of pain, the Scout looked around wildly for his attacker, spotting a pale figure for a single moment before it ran off around a bend in the quizzical architecture of the secret base.

Letting out a shout, he ejected a spent shell out of his scattergun and broke into a run forwards, ignoring for now the giant black and orange syringe sticking out of his left shoulder as he pursued his attacker. Dashing through the interior, he came skidding to a halt in the courtyard expecting to find his assailant trying to make his escape up the stairs leading to the loft and the intelligence.

But the courtyard was empty.

Pausing for a single moment, He looked frantically around the empty space, searching for his assailant. They couldn't of just dissapeared, could they? That was impo–

"You look lost there kamerade;" The Scout sucked in a surprised breath of air as out of seemingly nowhere, the short form of the Biohazard appeared behind him, pressing the cold barrel of his crossbow against the bare nape of his neck. "If you vant, I can give you directions to respawn."

"Jesus chri–!" The Scout tried to spin around to face the man behind him, catching a glimpse of the masked face of the Biohazard for a single second only to have the weapon pushed deeper into his neck, forcing him back around. "Where the freakin' hell did ya come from!?"

The Biohazard did not respond, instead remaining stoically mute for a moment.

"So...you gonna shoot me or something?" Scout asked, breaking the momentary silence. "Also, ya really need ta work on ya one-liners. 'Cause lemme be honest with ya, that was crap."

"Vhat, and yours are better?"

"'Course they are! I've been doing this for like, forever! An' anyways, I'm…" Scout trailed off for a moment as he shivered, suddenly very acutely aware how how cold it was outside. "Christ, it's freaking cold out 'ere. Can ya like, hurry up and do something pal?"

"I already have."

The Scout tried to spin around again to face the Biohazard, only for a wave of dizzy nausea to hit him, making him lose his balance and fall to the ground. His gun slipped from his hands, falling to the ground beside him as he collapsed.

The Scout lay there on the ground, eyes glazed over as he stared upwards, suddenly realising how damn cold it was right now. His view skywards was blocked as the swiss leaned over him, the base contours of his face just visible behind the darkened glass of his suit's faceplate.

"The...the fuck was that dude?"

"A highly modified version of Bacillus anthracis." His voice had a tone of smugness to it, similar to the one used by the engineer when talking about his whatever his latest creation was, but also a hint of that uncertain fear he always seemed to speak with. He ejected an empty pressure canister from his crossbow and inserted a new one, pointing it down at the scout when it was fully loaded again.

A part of the runner told him to get up, to grab his gun and shoot the man before he shot him again with...whatever the fuck was in that crossbow, but his mind wasn't thinking straight, like if he had a really bad case of the flu and his limbs ached, turning them into unmovable lead. His stomach heaved and he struggled to keep back the burning acid of bile that was creeping up his throat.

He managed to weakly lift his head in time to see the Biohazard let off a final shot from his crossbow, aimed directly at his head.

Scout noticed his hands still shook just as he was wrenched from the realm of the living and into the void of respawn.

...christ, this is late. sorry about that.

I'm not sure if I can give you an estimate on when the next one will be out as frankly, I don't know myself. It's not that I'm abandoning this or anything, its just that keeping my focus on this one story for such a long time has been...hard. I've been writing, but its not for this. So, sorry for the utter disregard of time and the shortness of this chapter. I know I said a rewrite was in order, but I'm not so sure about that now. I reckon I have about...7 chapters of this particular part left, so I might try to get this part done before attempting a shuffling of canons.

I promise the next one will be longer.

PS - what noise does the crusaders crossbow/half-life tranq gun make?