Till Death Do Us Part

The spy deftly jumped back, easily clearing the swing from the kukuri. He continued to back away from the Sniper, while reaching into this suit and withdrawing his revolver.

Dale wasn't smart. He wasn't particularly strong, or charismatic. But, he was fast. The moment his name was called, he snapped to attention. He dashed towards the attacking spy, and threw an inelegant punch right into the Frenchman's gut. The spy doubled over, caught off guard by the unarmed Scout. Dale quickly retrieved his baseball bat, and swung it low aimed at the Spy's legs. It hit with a sharp 'crack' that echoed throughout the entire room.

The Frenchman staggered back a few paces - before collapsing onto the cold concrete floor. Still alive, but incapacitated.

Leon dealt with the issue of the Spy still being alive. The crack was much louder this time, since it was a small room, and the Sniper Rifle was a fairly loud gun. But it did the trick.
He reloaded, taking a moment to make sure the Spy was indeed dead before leaning against the wall to get his breath back, rubbing his eyes and the back of his neck with a hand. That was way too close for comfort.
"Thanks," he finally managed to get out when his breathing had returned to normal. "Thanks."
That was much too close. He shook his head and reloaded out of nervous habit, poking the Spy with the barrel of the rifle just to triple-check he was deader than a doornail. You never could tell with Spies.
"You okay? He get you anywhere?"

Unlike Leon, who was breathing erratically and heavily, Dale hadn't even broken a sweat. He cracked his knuckles and looked down at the spy's corpse. "Nah, of course he didn't hit me. Them backstabbers aint got a thing on me."

Of course he neglected to mention the dozens of times that exact spy had killed him.

He returned to the wall with his baseball. "Spies are super lame. Sorry, but let's be honest here. Standing up in this room all by yourself. I'm sure it takes a lot of concentration or whatever - but it's really lame. It's a one-sided fight. It's like kicking a blind kid. But spies are even worse. Disguises and goin' invisible and sneaking around. They fight dirty. And they speak French." He continued to play with the ball against the wall - but the spy's appearance had made him paranoid. Between each toss he would peer over his shoulder for the spy's inevitable return.

"I was friends with a spy once. The RED one of course." The spy in question would have disagreed with the term 'friends'. "I think he must've transferred to another base. He was pretty much what you expect - French-speakin, chain-smoking, always-worryin. But, I like to think I taught him a thing or two about 'being cool'."

"Let's transfer to a different tower," Leon suggested, hardly having heard any of Dale's chatter. "When he comes back he's not gonna be happy, and I need to get the jump on him before then. I don't want to be dealing with a Spy on my back the entire time. C'mon."
He started heading down the stairs after another peep out the window to make sure nobody was at the base. Nobody was- great.
But he felt something wrong when he reached the bottom and shifted the rifle to his shoulder again, frowning as he heard a weird sort of beeping sound as he poked his head out the door.
Those BLUs seemed determined to knock him out early today: it seemed their Demoman had paid them a visit and left some little grenade presents at the door for them.
"GET BACK-" Leon had started to call to his bad luck charm, flinging a hand out to stop the Scout from coming any closer as the grenades exploded. He was blown back from the force of the blast, landing in a rather annoyed and painful heap on the steps.
This was not a good day.

Obediently, Dale followed the Sniper's lead and followed him down the stairs. Dale didn't hear the mines below, and was only spared by Leon's outstretched arm. Suddenly, the Demoman's trap exploded, throwing Dale and Leon back in the blast.

The Demoman erupted into drunken laughter, and called taunts up to the two REDs he had trapped, while laying down another set of sticky mines. Dale couldn't understand a word the Demoman said. He was convinced that he too spoke French, although Rémi told him that it was a mixture of 'Drunk' and 'English'.

Dale staggered to his feet. The blast had hurt his back and arms, but he wasn't ready to give up without a fight yet. "Leave this to me," he confidently told the older man.

The Demoman had them in a corner, and Dale wasn't the kind to wait for death - he charged straight at it. He checked his scattergun was loaded, mentally prepared himself, then sped down the stairs, speed around the corner. Leon would be able to hear Dale's gunfire and noisy chatter, and the Demoman's taunts and jeers. Suddenly, another big explosion shook the base.

Leon staggered back to his feet, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, shaking the stars out of his eyes, and getting a firm grip on his Kukri. He would never be able to shoot the Demoman, what with all the smoke and stuff from the second explosion floating around, and would probably end up shooting his teammate- although he might be dead already.
"DALE?" he yelled, using his hat to bat away some of the smoke so he could see somewhat better. "DALE! ANSWER ME!"
He'd feel so guilty if that kid had gotten killed. True, he'd be back later, but he still didn't like his fellow REDs dying under his watch. His job was to watch and protect everyone, and that was what he was gonna do, dammit. Besides, death wasn't a fun thing. The Scout had also saved him up in the tower; if he had been alone, he'd probably be dead right about now, and that was something he wouldn't forget soon.
He also needed an ally on his side, since he didn't like his chances against a drunk Irishman wielding explosives.
"DALE!" he called again, coughing as he inhaled some dust the wrong way. The hacking brought attention to the pain in his back and shoulders; he'd feel that even more later on today when he wasn't preoccupied trying not to get blown into little Sniper bits.
That meddling Demoman. He was going to beat him with his whiskey bottle if he ever found him in this stupid smoke- where'd it all come from anyway? Did he specifically set off a smokescreen or something like that to confuse them? He wouldn't put it past the raging lunatic. But he didn't honestly care right now, all he wanted at this exact moment was to find Dale and get somewhere safe (well, as safe as it got on a battlefield).

(Clainey? You still with me? .3.)

But Dale did not hear Leon's yells. He was in the limbo between death and the next respawn. He could feel his guts churning, as his body slowly rebuilt itself, atom by atom. Dale had died more times than he'd ever admit, but the feeling was something he'd never get used to. The sensation was somewhere between a bad fever dream and open heart surgery. The first time he'd respawned he puked in somebody's locker, but now he could manage to keep his enormous breakfast down.

Meanwhile, the smoke cleared, and the Demoman stood proudly over his kill. He turned his one good-eye towards the Sniper as he slowly reloaded the grenades into his gun, one by one. At this range, the Sniper ought to cause him no problems. A toothy grin spread across his face. "Aw, gettin' all emotional 'bout that scampering windbag? Don't worry, you'll soon by meeting him - in hell."

(Lol, just judging off of dale I'm guessing the locker wasnt his? I love dale)

Okay. This wasn't good. Close range with a Demoman was not a good situation to be in. It was a pretty bad thing, to be stuck between a rock and an explosion.
But now he was mad. His lips had curled into a snarl when he saw his fallen comrade's body and he shifted into his fighting stance, trying to quickly think of something to do to bring the Demoman down. If he was going to die, he might as well face it head on.
But as it turned out, he didn't face death exactly head on. By now the Spy had respawned and was out for blood. Since Dale was already dead, that only left Leon, and judging by how drunk the Demoman was, he probably wasn't going to be killed anytime soon. So the Spy took matters into his own hands.
This time Leon didn't have any reaction time. He saw a little grimy smear of blue reflected in his Kukri blade, but then there was a tremendous pain in his back as he got stabbed with some kind of knife; probably Butterfly, knowing Spies.
Instinctively clutching at his chest, the Sniper staggered a few steps, cussing under his breath, before finally collapsing and getting immersed in that horrible thing called respawning.
Dammit. So much for avenging Dale. He'd get him later on today, though. You don't just kill a teammate, make fun of him, and get away with it. It was extremely unprofessional and something Leon didn't take kindly to.
First things first. Respawn, don't chuck his guts up (there was a reason he ate so light), and then he'd go about extracting his sweet revenge.
The Spy retrieved his knife from Leon's back, raising an eyebrow at the look on the Demoman's face. "Don't give me that look," he finally snapped before cloaking again and slinking off to back stab someone else.

[Of course it wasn't! Why would you puke in your own locker?! )

The REDs were struggling. The front lines were unable to hold back the focused BLU team. Every time a new plan was formulated, the BLUs quickly overcame the strategy, and launched a successful counterattack. The Spy, Demoman, and a few other BLU members had made their way into the RED base, and had no problem destroying the confused and unfocused REDs.

Ten minutes after his death, Dale awoke - standing alone in the RED base. He grabbed his gut, buckling over in pain. He felt the bile rising in the back of his throat. He took a deep breath and swallowed it again. He scowled. He grumbled to himself - he was gonna get that Demoman. It was now his mission. The actual mission be damned. That Demoman was top priority.

He was just about to bolt out of the spawn room, when he heard the 'click' of the respawner. He span around to see that Leon had also just respawned. "Gothca too?" he asked despondently, scratching the back of his head through his cap.

(Lol. That makes sense, tho, in a weird kind of way)

Leon fell against the wall, his head spinning and his shoulders still twinging from the knife he had recently met. He grit his teeth, gulping against the wave of nausea enveloping him, and nodded.
"Got a Spy between the shoulder blades," he told Dale once he felt like he had control over his insides. "Sorry man, I tried to get that Demoman for ya, but I didn't see the Spy till he had gotten me." He shook his head, annoyed at his failure. "C'mon, let's go give 'em a taste of their own medicine. That's always fun... And that Demoman has it coming. You don't laugh at a fallen enemy, or call them a windbag, whatever that is. Highly unprofessional." He took a few steps, letting out a retch at the nauseous feeling that wasn't going away yet, and biting his hand to suppress the feeling. "God... I'm going to rip that Spy to pieces... Sorry, I tend to ramble when I don't feel good."
Respawning never, ever hit him well; if he had had any more food this morning for breakfast, he probably would've hurled when he respawned. He'd feel the blade in his back later on tonight too. He'd have to give the Spy that much, he had a good aim.
Frowning and swaying slightly in place, he made sure his Sniper Rifle was loaded and slowly, silently started to head back out to the main base, where the sounds of gunfire and yelling were steadily becoming louder. Apparently the BLUs had breached their defenses... "How much time do we have left?"

"Not long, I think." It was hard for him to tell - he always lost track of time after a respawn. Being cooped up indoors didn't help, either. "Keep ya ears peeled for any announcements." Through the metal shutter leading into the respawn room, the sound of gunfire suddenly picked up. Explosions, rapid gunfire, and the team yelling orders to each-other while they attempted to defend against the final push of the BLUs.

"This aint time to talk," Dale sprinted across to the door - it opened automatically as he approached it. Instantly, he was greeted with the site of his entire team - the RED Heavy and a Medic charging forward, and slowing the BLU's charge with a volley of bullets. The Engineer struggled to put up a sentry, while the enemy Demoman attempted to plant his mines around the incomplete machine.

Dale naturally charged head-forward towards the Demoman, to complete his new self-appointed mission. The heat of explosions, and the echoes of gunfire surrounded him but he felt no fear. Perhaps he lacked the brain-power to truly comprehend the situation. He dated between the enemy team, swinging his bat at a Pyro as he passed by. He made a direct line for the Demoman.

Leon took a deep breath to get himself back in the zone before following Dale out the door and going what he called 'fully automatic'. He didn't even think as he loaded and reloaded his Sniper Rifle, aiming for whatever BLU heads came into sight, only stopping when he was out of ammo. He started reloading with whatever ammo he could find in his pockets, looking up in time to catch a bat to the face.
Naturally, he was knocked back by the enemy Scout's blow, almost dropping his rifle as he received a huge amount of pain and felt the warmth of blood trickling down his lip- his nose had been broken, and he wouldn't be surprised if a tooth or two had been knocked loose.
But now was not the time to assess the damage. The Scout was still coming for a second blow, eager to finish the Sniper off. His bat was raised above his head as he charged at Leon, a somewhat familiar cocky smirk on his face. Leon jerked to the side, sticking his rifle out to trip the Scout up; he wasn't able to slow down in time and ended up falling on his face, but before Leon could pull the trigger, the bat was back and had knocked the weapon out of his hands. That didn't stop him, though- the Kukri blade was soon planted between the Scout's shoulder blades and Leon paused a moment to get his breath back.
His rifle. He needed his Sniper Rifle so he could continue to kill BLUs. He remembered seeing it skid in a certain direction, so he darted off to find it, doing his best to look inconspicuous.
Ah, there it was- nobody had touched it so that was good. He lunged forward, not paying attention to anything else but his gun, and reeled back with the weapon in his hands to find himself at the end of a flamethrower.
There was no reaction time for the Sniper, the Pyro beat him to that. He couldn't help the agonized screech that he let out as he was set alight, staggering and falling back, all thoughts whirling in a panic in his mind. Eventually though, they stilled, and it was another wretched ten minutes till respawn. He hated Pyros.
The Demoman had managed to blast the half-conscious Engineer back and had started to plant some stickies around the sad little machine, but he was taking his time since he knew the Engie was beat. He'd deal with him once he blew his hopeless contraption up. He happened to catch the flames out of the corner of his good eye and erupted into drunken laughter, taking a swig of his whiskey bottle and roaring something incoherent but undoubtedly demeaning. He didn't see Dale coming at all, a mistake on his part.

Dale was focused like a horse wearing blinders. He closed the distance between himself and the explosives expert, swinging his bat sideways, feeling the hard crack as it struck the back of the Demoman's head. The larger man fell over. "Not so tough, are ya," Dale taunted the Demoman as he crawled to his stomach to get a glance of his attacker. Dale looked down at him in contempt for a fleeting second, before finishing him off with his pistol.

The BLUs continued to advance. With the Engineer desperately trying to build another sentry and Leon currently in respawn, their defensive core was devastated. A particularly loud shot echoed through the base, and the team Medic was killed by a single precise bullet to the head. There was a Sniper, although Dale couldn't make out exactly where he was. If he kept moving, he'd be safe.

Attention: 5 Minutes Remaining. The all too familiar voice sounded over the speakers. The day was almost over, and the BLUs were right on top of REDs final point. If they could hold out for a few minutes longer, the match would end in a draw.

Spurred by the reminder of the actual mission, Dale returned to work. He weaved in and out of the the fight, taking a few potshots at whichever BLU idiot was closest, before darting away again to reload, chattering to his coworkers and taunting the BLUs as they struggled to hit the fast target. RED team had been burdened by not having one of their primary attackers on the front line for the the majority of the battle - and they were glad to have him back.

But it didn't last long.

Don't shoot where they are. Shoot where they're going to be. Any sniper knows that.

One moment he was chasing after the enemy Soldier, the next, darkness. It happened so quickly, the Scout didn't even feel it.

Leon gagged as he respawned, hardly hearing the announcement over the ring in his ears and the blood pounding in his head. He was sore all over and was doing his absolute best not to puke- there was no time for this. He needed to get back out there and try to hold them off for the next five minutes.
He was honestly lucky he was hitting anything, since he was still a bit woozy as he dashed back to the battlefield, Kukri flashing and cleaving and causing general chaos.
A fellow RED next to him was downed by a single shot to the head, and Leon instinctively ducked away to hide behind a pillar. Sniper. He needed to go. Quickly loading his Sniper Rifle, he waited until another RED got shot, and peered in the direction the bullet came from. There was a shadow up there in a window, a shadow with a rifle.
With a slight smile, he peered through the scope, took a deep breath to steady himself, and pulled the trigger.
Bingo- down went the Sniper. But he didn't have much time to savor his little victory, as more BLUs were coming his way. He quickly started dropping them as fast as he could, making a mental note to bring his Submachine Gun along next time.
Attention: one minute remaining.
Leon was struggling to help his fellow REDs and trying to defend himself as well. He had the good luck of popping a Medic and a Heavy as they passed before getting shanked by a Spy. He felt the cold blade penetrate his back once more and let out a snarled curse, flinging his Kukri behind him and being rewarded with a thick whacking sound and a spray of blood on his hand before slipping back into the state of respawning. By the time he was back, the battle would be over.
He had done his best. Hopefully the others would pull it out of the bag.

By the time Dale respawned once again the day's fight had already ended. In the state of respawn, he did not see the last few minutes of the fight, or hear the announcer's verdict. He stowed his guns in his locker, but kept his baseball bat and ball. He sighed quietly to himself as he left the locker room. The mood on the opposite side confirmed what he finished.

Several of the elder men were drunk, or slowly getting there. The room was hazy from cigarettes and nobody spoke. They'd lost. The only sound came from the kitchen, as the poor man on kitchen duty prepared that night's rations. Usually it was plain pork or chicken, with a side of canned vegetables.

Dale slouched onto the couch next to the Spy. The Spy jumped as the kid sat next to him. He kept a straight face, hiding his anxiety as he hurried to join the Demoman and Engineer. It didn't matter who. Anybody was better. He had to escape that kid before he decided to open his mouth. Once it was open, it never closed. After a defeat like today's nobody was in the mood for talking.

Leon wasn't accustomed to dying so much and so violently in one day. He retched into a strategically placed trash can for a few minutes before walking back out into the common area.
So they'd lost. Blast. Now there was going to be a depressing atmosphere for another day or two unless they won the next battle.
After a moment of searching, Leon spotted Dale and wandered over to sit with him, the Scout being the only one he knew well on the team at the moment. He took his hat off and placed it on the coffee table in front of him, playing with the worn out brim for a moment before running his hands through his thick blackish brown hair with a sigh.
"Hey," he finally murmured, looking up from the table at the Scout. "How you doin'?"
Kind of lame, yeah, but he didn't know what else to say, and he wanted to make an effort to be nice to the younger kid. They'd had a rough day today, after all.

One of the other men groaned. Dale shot the crowd a look, but wasn't entirely sure who it came from. They'd all learnt months ago not to engage the Scout. Now that floodgates had been opened, they'd never close.

"How am I doin?!" the Scout said with genuine fury in his voice. "Darn snipers," even when his mother wasn't around, Dale couldn't bring himself for much more salty language than that. "Gosh darn cowards." He continued, not even caring that he was speaking to a sniper. They were cowards, and he wasn't going to sugarcoat his opinions for anybody! "Course he's shootin at me, cause he's scared of me. In a proper fight he aint got anything on me. Gotta fight like a coward to even stand a chance against Dale McCarthy." He proudly motions towards himself with a thumb.

"Whatever man, I'm hungry. Where the hell is dinner?"

Leon just shrugged, a little stung but not wanting to get drawn into a debate over whether or not he was a coward or not. "Next time, stay on the front lines," he suggested, tracing a pattern on the coffee table with a finger. "I think that hurt us today since we didn't have one of our main fighters on the front lines. I appreciate the company, but seriously, look at these people. I don't think they're exactly happy that we lost."
He sighed, flexing his shoulders and popping his back in a stretch again. "I'm glad someone's hungry. I don't think I could touch anything food related with a twenty foot pole." Dying multiple times a day kind of did that to him. It was annoying.
Speaking of annoying, it was just now that he noticed that he was actually talking to someone besides himself. That was odd. He couldn't remember the last time he had done that, since he stayed away from his teammates and they sure as hell stayed away from him. He glanced over at Dale curiously as if there was something overtly noticeable about the boy that made him talk, but no.
That was weird. He'd have to think about this. Until he figured things out, he fell silent once more.

Dale looked away when Leon suggested he returned to the front lines, to hide the disappointment in his eyes. Of course Leon would say that. He didn't want to spend time with him. Nobody round here did. Despite being the bluntest crayon in the box, Dale was aware that his team mates all actively avoided him.

Whatever! He wouldn't bother the Sniper anymore. Or at least, bother him less than he did today. The truth was, the Scout often found himself horribly lonely. Without the usual group of equally chatty friends from back home, and even his stinkin' brother he didn't really have anyone to talk to. These old men were all so serious and boring and they just didn't understand how awesome he was.

Besides, if he'd learnt anything from the day - it further confirmation that he was the best guy on the whole team. Just one day taking it easy and the entire RED team crumbled. Miss Pauling ought to give him a pay rise.

"You're crazy," Dale said with noticeably less passion than before. "How can you even do that, you didn't eat anything for breakfast, and you aint eating anything now?" The kitchen door swung open with a bang, and a very unhappy looking Heavy Weapons guy slammed down a tray of meat cooked well past the point of 'golden brown' and soggy reheated vegetables. Dale, of course, lept to his feet. "Anyway, whacha you doin tomorrow? I wanna go to Teufort to pick up issue #103 of Saxton Hale's comic. It's gonna be great. He's gonna fight the entire state of Wyoming!"

OOC: That last line is a segue into a day off, but if you'd rather it removed, that can easily be done