Written for Glados-still-Alive's Tumblr Feelsfest 2013 Contest, in which we attempt to make her cry. Here's my go! (And yes, come follow me on Tumblr! Link is my profile~)

Annnd this little piece is why HFH didn't update yet! Seriously, it was a bugger to write.

This is unbeta'd, which is unusual for me, so if you see any errors don't hesitate to point them out!

I hear no-zing, I see no-zing, I own no-zing

Semper Fi

All in all, Halloween wasn't really working out for the REDs this year.

Of course, Halloween wouldn't really work out for anyone who just so happened to have a raging wizard going mad in the middle of their base. But for the members of Reliable Excavation and Demolition, this came as a particularly unwelcome surprise. Oh, it had been terrifying at first, being launched into the air and attacked by various magical things unexpectedly. When the REDs finally collected themselves, it became more intense, with bullets and bombs and fire and, yes, magic. After a time it became frustrating, and after a full day and night of fighting, well, things had gotten just a little bit silly.

"SOLDIER! YOU WILL BOW BEFORE ME!"

"THE ONLY BOWING THAT'S GONNA HAPPEN HERE IS WHEN YOU BOW TO MY FOOT GOING UP YOUR ASS!"

"I WILL FIND YOUR GREATEST WEAKNESS—"

"YOU COULDN'T FIND YOUR CRAP COMIN' OUTTA YOUR ASS!"

Two former roommates stood toe-to-toe, screaming in each other's faces, while the remaining REDs, having been subjected to super-speed, zero gravity, shrinking and expanding heads, a few bombs-for-heads and in one bizarre case a dance-off, slumped against each other in exhaustion. All, that is, save Sniper, who had retreated to his nest for some peace and quiet and forty winks.

"Worst. Halloween. Evah." Scout held up a finger in order to make his point perfectly clear, and his sentiment was echoed by a "harrumph" from Pyro. "I didn't even get any fucking candy." He wriggled his toes, wincing when he felt blisters—blisters!—popping on his feet.

"Rest of team did not get candy either, leetle man." Heavy chided, while a struggling-to-stay conscious Medic slumped up against his shoulder. "Do not complain."

Scout whined loudly and flopped backwards onto his back. "This sucks. Stupid wizahd can't even magic Solly away right."

Engineer, who had spent the last twenty minutes dutifully repairing his sentries, chuckled. "Well, we ain't exactly helpin' by just sitting here. I…where's Spah?"

The remaining six REDs glanced around, noticing for the first time that their fickle Frenchman was, in fact, gone.

Being one of the more intellectually-inclined members of the RED team was both a blessing and a curse for Spy. On one hand, he could afford the ability to look down on his fellows as the superior person.

On the other, any and all final solutions were up to him.

And he was going to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all.

Cloaked, he flipped his butterfly knife through his fingers and crept up behind the bellowing Merasmus and Soldier. One quick, clean backstab would surely do the trick, and then they could go back to fighting the BLUs in peace.

However, Spy had not taken into his calculations that Merasmus was a wizard, and there were just some things you couldn't get past a wizard, no matter how silly he seemed.

Just as Spy raised his arm into a perfect arch, Merasmus whipped around and shot his arm out, decloaking Spy and throwing the Frenchman off his feet. The butterfly knife clattered to the ground several feet away from its owner, useless.

"SPY!"

Instantly the REDs were scrambling for their weapons, and Soldier leapt forward, ready to defend French freedom and justice for once, when Merasmus froze them all with a bellicose howl in some ancient tongue.

"The time for petty games is over, Soldier." The wizard turned back to the immobile Soldier for an instant, a dark smile flickering over his features when he saw how infuriated—and helpless—his former roommate was. "I was going to toy around with you for a bit, nothing more, but seems as though your teammate wants to take this to the next level." His eyes traveled back to Spy, who was struggling to regain his footing.

Instantly the Frenchman was picked up by some force and tossed roughly to the ground again and again and again, the force and the speed of the magic increasing with Spy's yelps of pain. At long last Merasmus flicked his wrist causally, sending Spy sprawling into the dirt.

The rest of the present REDs could only watch, horrified, as the Frenchman struggled to his feet. He wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth, panting. "Fils de pute!" He spat bloody spittle at Merasmus' feet, staggering forward with a look in his eye made to kill.

"If we're going to resort to name-calling—" Ever-so-causally Merasmus closed his hand into a fist, "you're going to have to try better than that, you slimy rat."

Spy choked as the same invisible force wrapped around his throat, lifting him into the air so that the tips of his fine leather shoes scrapped the ground. He clawed at his throat to little avail, choking as the force squeezed his windpipe.

Merasmus' eyes glowed a deep green and he began to mutter wildly under his breath. Spy went rigid as the same green light began to emit around him. His legs thrashed wildly of their own accord, and he screamed in pain as dark magic began to work—

Chick-chick. BOOM.

Three seconds later, the REDs were splattered in blood and bits of gray brainy stuff. Merasmus' headless body staggered to and fro for an instant before collapsing to the ground, quivering in death throes. The spell holding the REDs in place was broken and Spy crumbled to the ground in a heap.

Sniper ran a proud hand over his rifle before slinging it over his back. "I leave ya lot alone fer half an hour, an' everything goes to pieces." He limped forward, eyeing his handiwork with pride, before joining the other REDs that had crowded around the prone Spy. "Get back, get back, give 'im air, ya buggers!" He threw the chattering Scout away from Spy and crouched down beside the Frenchman. "Ya all roight, spook?"

"Fine, Lawrence," Spy replied, face buried into the ground, "thank you for asking. Although…" With careful moments he reached a hand up to wrap it around his ribs, "I do require medical assistance."

"Gotcha. DOC!"

"Ja, ja," Medic nudged Spy with his boot before powering up the Medigun, "do not worry, Herr Spy, this will not hurt a bit."

While Medic patched up the dazed Spy and Sniper hovered nearby, Scout turned to Soldier with a serious glint in his eyes. "Well, I think we've all learned a very valuable lesson." The Bostonian brushed a bit of invisible lint off of his shoulders. "Next time a wizahd asks ya to be his roommate, YA SAY 'NO', SOLDIER!"

The ensuing scuffle caught the attention of all, and the small shiver that wracked Spy's frame went entirely unnoticed.

…

"Got a light?"

"I always 'ave a light, you know that."

In an amicable mood, Spy flicked open his lighter and held it out to Sniper. The Aussie held his cigarette over the small flame until it caught alight. He popped the cancer-stick into his mouth, taking a long, deep drag and holding it. Air crackled in his lungs like lightening, and he held the sensation for as long as he could before exhaling, smoke billowing out of his nose. "How ya feelin'?"

"Fine." Even as he replied a faint itching sensation tickled his leg, and Spy leaned down to scratch at it.

The mismatched pair were sitting together just outside of the base, watching the sun sink slowly over the badlands. The excitement over Merasmus had died down quickly, and down the exhausted REDs had scattered across the base to find what peace they could.

Sniper glanced at Spy, appraising his pale mien and the dark circles under his eyes before turning his attention back to the sunset. Sniper's gaze did not go unfelt, however, and Spy turned to face him fully. "Lawrence…I should thank you. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead right now…or worse."

"Yeah, well," Sniper cracked his knuckles, "s'wot teammates do, y'know? We look out for each other. Semper Fi."

It was a bit odd, hearing such loyalty out of the usually distant and detached Sniper, but it made Spy grin nevertheless. He continued to smile as he leaned down again to scratch at his itching leg.

Sniper's eyes flickered from Spy's face to his leg. "Wot's the matter?"

"Nothing is the matter, what makes you ask?"

"Ya got fleas or something?"

"If I did," Spy's furious itching increased, "I probably got them from you—"

It was a good quip, but it was no laughing matter when Spy's rapid motions lifted his pant leg, revealing his inflamed skin.

Sniper caught his hand and pulled the pant leg up higher, ignoring the protest from Spy. The seasoned bushman, who had seen all manner of pain and injuries in his line of work, could withhold a hiss of pain. Spy's leg was red and flaky, bits of dried skin mixing in with blood trickled down his leg. His calves were swollen, muscles bugling in an unnatural, sickening way. Sniper blanched at the sight. "Mate, you gotta get this looked after."

"It's fine," Spy snapped.

"It is not fine—" Sniper reached forward to grab for Spy, but the Frenchman grabbed his wrist and squeezed hard. The Aussie withheld a grimace and glared at Spy. "Spook, wot's gotten inta ya…spook?"

For a brief instant Spy's blue eyes darkened to black.

And then he blinked, the color reverted to normal, and Spy relaxed his grip on Sniper, looking furious and confused.

Sniper scowled as Spy scrambled up, limping away from his companion. "It's not fine and ya know it, spook! Have the doc take a look at it, please." He put a particular emphasis on the last, but Spy ignored him, retreating into the base and slamming the door shut as he did so.

Sniper cursed vehemently and crushed his half-finished cigarette underfoot. Spy was an adult, he didn't need someone hovering over his shoulder. But the eyes…

After a moment of consideration, he decided he would seek Medic out first thing in the morning, and resolved to keep a closer eye on Spy tomorrow.

…

It was quiet when Sniper's eyes snapped opened.

He sat up slowly, brushing his covers back. He was drenched in sweat and panting as though he'd run a mile. He must have had a nightmare—except he couldn't rightly remember what the nightmare was about. All he could recall was a faint choking sensation around his throat, tightening like a noose.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Sniper inched his way out of his bed and stumbled over to the sink, splashing cool water onto his face. He glanced at his watch, groaning when he saw it was three in the morning. He was going to be absolute rubbish on the field tomorrow, he could feel it.

He filled a mostly-clean glass with water and drank deeply, a trickle trailing down out of his mouth and down his chin. Something deep in his gut was nagging at him, telling him to stay awake, telling to stay alert and—

A bellicose scream reverberated through the air, a scream of pain and horror and torment, the scream of a man who wanted either mercy or death but received neither.

The glass shattered into a million pieces as it hit the floor.

…

"What happened, maggot?"

"I dunno man, like I said, I just saw something going down the hall."

"Leavin' a blood trail."

"Uh-huh."

Eight of the nine REDs were present by Respawn, staring at the thick black trail of blood leading into the sewers. The Sniper crouched and dipped his fingers in the blood, ignoring Scout's "Ugh". He ran the blood through his fingers, studying it for a long moment. "Wotever the hell it is, it's either hurt bad and lookin' ta escape or so large it can afford to bleed out loike this." He hoisted his rifle up a bit before moving down to examine the blood trail further.

"So long as it's moving out of the base, and not in." Engineer grumbled, looking odd with a stump for a right arm, as opposed to the usual glove or robotic arm.

"Da." Heavy rumbled. "Can we all go back to bed now?"

"Pftro mudda hudda!" Pyro stomped its foot in agreement.

Medic shoved his glasses up his nose. "Vhat I vould like to know is how und vhy a…something…got into our base und did not bother to kill any of us."

Demoman did a quick headcount and frowned. "I wouldnae be too sure o' tha', doctor."

Sniper held up something out of the blood trail, and Soldier shone his flashlight on the Aussie's blood-coated hand. Sniper examined the small square for a moment, running his fingers over it for a moment. It felt like fabric, a very soft and expensive fabric. His heart fell into his stomach, where it churned uncomfortably. It took more than a few tries to put words to the idea in his head:

"It's got spook."

…

"Slim, I ain't comfortable with y'all goin' down there alone—"

"I ain't risking any of ya, and besides, I'm the one with experience when it comes ta tracking big game."

"That's pride talkin', Mundy!"

"No," Behind his aviators Sniper's eyes flashed, "that's common sense. I ain't leavin' Spy ta…whatever it is that's got him, but I can't risk none of ya followin' me."

"But—"

"If I don't come back in an hour, ya have my permission ta send out the search party. Deal?"

"Deal. If y'all need anything, jus' let us know." Engineer pointed to the ear piece lodged securely in Sniper's ear and the Aussie nodded.

Engineer groaned loudly and stepped back. Sniper saluted the rest of the wary REDs once before descending down the ladder into the sewers. The sewer cover clanked loudly overhead, and the shaft of light emitting from the base vanished.

He was alone. In the dark. With a something.

Somewhere down the pipes a long, human moan echoed.

Spy was down here too.

Semper Fi.

The light of flashlight flickered off the walls as Sniper moved, as stealthily as one could in ankle deep water, attempting to follow the blood trail. There were smears of the thick dark blood on the walls too, but the further he got in the more and more sparse they became, until Sniper found himself standing in the middle of the four-way intersection of running water, uncertain of what to do next.

"Spy?" He called softly, tucking the lit flashlight into his belt and pulling out his kukri, just in case. "Spook, where are you…?"

Something long and slimy brushed up against his leg, and Sniper had just enough time to think "Oh shit" before he yanked off his feet by some powerful force, his ankle crushed by the force of whatever it was that was wrapped around it. The kukri went flying into the water, shortly followed by its owner being smashed up against the sewer tunnel wall. Bright pinpoints of light sparked across Sniper's eyes before he was lifted and smashed once more. The bushman swore vehemently and flailed, attempting to get a good look at whatever it was that had him. It slapped him down once more and this time the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He spat it out, thrashing madly, and in his wild moments he thought he saw—

The force slammed him up against the wall and something began to crush his chest. "SPY!" He called out the name in desperation, hoping against hope that was indeed the Frenchman he had caught a glimpse of. "SPY! IT'S ME, IT'S SNIPER—" Something in his chest cracked and he screamed with pain, "IT'S LAWRENCE! IT'S ME!"

The pressure disappeared, but the pain didn't, and as Sniper collapsed in a heap in the water something large shifted backwards into the shadows. Sniper stayed right where he was, struggling to breath. His right ankle was bust, he'd bit his tongue, and he'd be lucky if he got away with cracked ribs. "Shit, spook…shit."

"I'm sorry, Lawrence."

The reply was soft and wavering and lacked the usual vigor of the Spy. Sniper looked up sharply.

Spy was there, hiding in the shadows, and since his aviators had been tossed somewhere Sniper was forced to squint to see. He actually needed those to see, damn it. "Spook? Ya okay?"

"I….I afraid I'm not f-f-fully in control of myself at the mo—" Spy's breath hitched in pain, "moment."

"Wot…." Sniper dragged himself into a sitting position, "wot happened?"

"You may 'ave killed Merasmus…by 'is handiwork was done."

"Show me!"

"I—"

"Show. Me."

"Very well. Promise you will not scream."

There was a shuffling, squelching noise, and Spy to drag himself out of the shadows. The top part of him looked completely fine, save what looked to be self-inflicted wounds. After his waist, however…

Sniper didn't scream, but he had to bite down on his hand to keep from doing so.

The bottom half of Spy was not two legs. It was a writhing, wriggling mass of tentacles that seemed to have a mind of their own.

The taste of blood was back in his mouth, and faintly Lawrence realized he'd bitten so far down into his hand that he'd drawn blood. Wincing, he removed his canines out of his flesh, looking at the….the Tenta-Spy in horror. "Oh spook…"

"Not…" Spy drew a hissing breath, "not the most flattering form I 'ave taken, eh?" A fine shudder ran the length of his frame and he buried his head into his arms, panting.

"Shit…shit…we gotta fix this!"

Spy didn't respond for a long minute. Instead, a low, grumbling growl emitted from his throat, echoing frightfully down the sewers. Sniper shifted and winced again. "Spook…?"

At his voice Spy looked up. But instead of blue his eyes were blackened, and when he opened his mouth to hiss at Sniper, a row of fang-like incisors appeared. Sniper scrambled backwards as Spy started forward. "SPY! SPY GET YERSELF UNDER CONTROL—" He moved his broken ankle too quickly, and a cry of pain escaped him instead of a plea.

Spy hesitated, and then blinked. The black irises vanished, replaced by frightened blue once more. "I apologize, Lawrence…I—I must admit I'm having difficulties controlling…it."

"It?"

"The…the thing inside of me. It," Spy gasped and screwed his eyes shut, "it 'urts."

"Is there anyway ta kill it?"

"Only if you're willing to kill me."

"So if ya go through Respawn yer gonna be all roight—"

"No. If you kill me. Permanently."

"Respawn won't work?" Sniper's voice heightened a pitch in panic. "Respawn's gotta work, Respawn will fix ya—"

"I tried, Lawrence. Believe me I tried. Respawn does not fix it."

The blood trail had led out of Respawn, Sniper recalled, and a chill ran down his spine. He rubbed his fuzzy eyes and stared at Spy, unsurprised to see him staring back. The Frenchman shifted, biting deep into his lips as his tentacles writhed and squirmed of their accord. "Kill me."

"No."

"Kill me."

"NO!"

"KILL ME, LAWRENCE, PLEASE—" The 'It' was back, and wretched Spy's head back with a bloodthirsty scream. Sniper watched, paralyzed, as Spy clapped his hands to his ruined masked and curled his fingers into tight clenching fists. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

When Spy regained control he was panting and shaking, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead in fat, thick droplets. "Kill me." He locked eyes with Sniper. "I'd rather die on my terms, in control, than be shot down like some animal after…after It takes over for good."
"Ya don't know that it will, spook."

Spy chuckled, but the laugh was dark and devoid of humor. "I know it will. Kill me. Lawrence, I'm asking you as a friend. Kill me. Before it…" Spy's entire body shivered and he froze, gritting his teeth so tightly that a vein in his neck bugled.

Sniper had killed plenty of things. Little animals, big animals, good people, bad people. But he'd never killed a friend before. And he'd certainly never considered the idea that the friend would be begging him to do it. But Spy was desperate, and scared, and fading fast.

Semper Fi. No matter what.

"Engie," Sniper's voice was hoarse as he pressed a finger to his ear, "I need ya ta shut Respawn down."

After a moment Engineer's voice crackled back: "ARE YOU MAD, MUNDY?!"

"Do it, Dell. Ten minutes. Ten minutes is all I need."

"Slim, what are y'all—"

"Trust me."

"All right. Ten minutes, and then Respawn is back online."

Engineer's voice fizzled out again, and Sniper slumped up against the sewer wall. Spy was looking down, and he seemed to be concentrating only on breathing, but then he pointed across the room. "Your rifle is over there."

It took a fair amount of effort just to stand, and by the time he had retrieved his gun and limped over to Spy he was shaking with exhaustion and apprehension and just a bit of fear. Spy was rubbing his temples in small circles, muttering wildly in French to himself. He quivered, unable to control the beast within for much longer.

"Engie's shut Respawn down. If I kill ya now, yer data is lost." Sniper couldn't believe the calm, matter-of-fact tone he assumed. Perhaps on some level he knew that he had to be calm for Spy's fact. "Yer dead. Fer good."

"Well…I don't know many that will mourn."

"We will." He'd gotten his trembling under control, and he cocked the rifle with perfectly steady hands. He pressed it to Spy's head, and the Frenchman stilled, save the tentacles that writhed madly.

Spy took a deep breath. "Tell my petite chou-fleur that I died bravely."

"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."

"And…perhaps hunt down a few wizards while you're at it. Petty, I know, to blame all for the transgressions of one, but…"

"They're as good as dead."

"And Lawrence?" The blackness was slowly seeping back into his eyes, but this time Spy didn't fight it.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

The blackness coated his irises completely, and Sniper didn't hesitate.

The gunshot's recoil sent him flying backwards, into the water, covered in blood and gray matter and with a sharp ringing in his ears. Sniper splashed out of the water with a gasp, staring in horror at Spy's twitching—but dead—body.

He dragged himself against a wall and stayed there, curled into a cold, shivering ball. He didn't make a sound, didn't cry, didn't even skip a breath. All he said, when Engineer and Scout finally found him and the remains of the monster Spy had become, was "I'm sorry."

…

The REDs lost their Spy in the early morning.

And later that day, they lost their Sniper.

His van was gone, as well as his weapons and what meager positions he had scattered around the base.

All he left behind was a note:

"Off to kill a wizard."

So do I win?