(no subject)
((Another random post to show a friend, weh))
Confident as they were, Hugh and Viktor hadn't managed to capture the intel. It was jarring, then, when that damned RED spy had come so fucking close to snatching theirs up again. Again. If it hadn't been for McKlowen, then BLU would have suffered their second humiliation in such short order; an almost literal one-two punch.
Damn REDs.
It had been a measly two days since that mission. Randall's injuries had stung fiercely but, in the end, hadn't been severe. A short burst from the medigun when Hugh returned, and he was on his way again.
Fuck everything. He was gonna take a shower.
Only they had those damn open showers, didn't they? And the last thing Randall needed to see was Barnes naked. That would do nothing good for his mood.
And so, he waited. He waited until the last of the hustle and bustle of the BLU base died down into a quiet murmur, and then not even that. As soon as he was certain that everyone was either asleep, or otherwise occupied, he made his way towards the showers. He was enraptured by the thought of a quiet, peaceful shower, all by his lonesome for the first time in so long. He was in an understandably good mood when he walked into the shower room, humming loud and without a care.
Only then, he stopped. He heard running water.
"Someone here?" he called. Or had some idiot left the water going? Conrad would lose his mind, if that was the case.
The water stopped with an audible screech of metal and the sudden silence that
lasted a moment before the almost frantic sound of footsteps could be heard
slapping against the wet ground as the mystery person rushed across the shower
room.
"HRR! OCCRRPRRD! OCCRRPRRD!!" A familiar, muffled voice shouted from behind the
wall that still separated Randall from the showers a moment later.
Oh. Guess that explained why no one ever saw the pyro showering, maybe he didn't
like the whole 'communal shower' thing all that much either.
Randall blinked, looking rather politely confused.
"McKlowen?" he said, unsure, as he cocked his head to look at the wall,
as though he'd walk around it to get a look. But he thought better of
it. He knew he didn't like it much when someone stared at him in the
shower.
Unless it was Hugh. But that was something else entirely. He cleared his
throat, and he shrugged.
"Whatever man, I hate dis public shower B.S. too."
But still, he stood still, fingers curling beneath his jaw and his
eyebrows lifting. He really did wonder what the pyro looked like.
"YRRS. GRRD. GO. AWRR." The pyro almost sounded more frantic then angry, though
the sharp edge of anger was certainly there. There was nothing for a moment,
save the faint echo of the pyro's heaving breathing.
"WRRLL?!"
Randall waved his hands, and McKlowen would hear the scrapper stepping
further the room. His shoes tip-tapping against the floor was almost
ominous, wasn't it?
"How 'bout I promise not to look at you if you don't look at me. I'll
stay on dis side."
Randall started to pull his shirt off, and kick his shoes off. Perhaps,
he thought, he'd take a quick peek around the corner, despite his words.
What would it hurt, to know what the pyro looked like? And the notion of
actually knowing--of even getting a glimpse--was enough to make him feel
downright giddy. He liked the idea of knowing something the rest of his
team didn't. A smug, childish thing to feel, but powerful nevertheless.
"Hww brrt Rr krckk yrr tffh in?!" The pyro practically barked through his mask.
Was the guy really that paranoid that he didn't even want you to hear what he
sounded like? I mean geez, there was being nervous about people seein' you
naked, and then there was just /weird/.
What the fuck, had he been touched as a kid or something? Ha!
No, that wasn't funny at all. He coughed loudly, and cleared his throat
in an exaggerated way.
"Uh, no. I need my teeth."
He turned, and leaned back against the wall, lifting his feet one after
the other, and pulling his socks off. McKlowen would hear him move
towards a bench, dropping the few articles of clothing he'd cared to
shed. He was bare now, save for his pants, and pacing around his side of
the wall.
"Look, I can only handle so much fuckin' man-stink before it starts
t'make my skin crawl. I won't come around till you're done."
No more than a peek, anyway. Drumming his fingertips together, he began
to, with quiet, bare footsteps, sneak towards the edge of the wall. He
brushed the wall with his fingers, and bit his lip, his entire body
buzzing with excited curiosity.
There was nothing but the low sounds of the pyro breathing for a moment, before
even that seemed to grow fainter, and there was an almost hurried sound of cloth
and rubber moving. It looked like the pyro had officially decided he was done
now. If you didn't move fast, Randall, you were never going to get that peek!
And what could one little peek hurt, anyway? Just a glance, and McKlowen
would be none the wiser. Randall held his breath, and quickly turned,
his head craning around the corner to get a look at the pyro.
And he stopped.
And he exhaled, loud, and alarmed.
"You're a dame?!"
She's a dame?!
Yes, we just covered that.
The pyro, McKlowen's head snapped around fast as lightning, only one leg fully
pulled into her suit.
Her skin was pale, like she hadn't been out in natural light for months... hell,
probably years. Her hair was a mess, hacked and cut short, likely done hastily
in front of a mirror when it was needed.
The scout likely would have had only a moment to process this, along with the
highly defined muscles of her frame, before she was in motion, her suit
forgotten behind her as she streaked across the damp floor of the shower towards
the scout, and for an instant he'd get a decent look at the heavy scars covering
her hands and forearms, before she was grasping for him, trying to throw him to
the ground.
Randall did little, save stare, slack-jawed and trying to comprehend
what he was seeing. She was already halfway across the room before he
realized what was going on, but it was too late by then. He yelped as
she barreled into him, and slammed him into the floor. His mind spun,
and he started to panic.
"W-whoa! Lemme up!"
Wasn't there a "no teamkilling" rule?
She had quickly straddled the scout, pinning him down firmly, while he other
hand reached up, grasping Randall's throat tightly with one hand, while the
other curled first into a fist, arching back... before shakily uncurling itself
for a moment, then tightening again as she pointed a finger slowly at his face,
shaking it lightly back and forth, "Ya've made one hell of a big mistake, boyo."
Randall pondered the accent very, very briefly, before panicking again.
He whined, and curled his fingers against the floor. His eyes were so
wide they looked just about ready to pop out of his skull.
"Please don't beat me up and then set me on fire and then smash me into
paste wit' your sledgehammer."
A very specific, but necessary request, he felt.
"Oh, Aye tink we'll be holdin' off on any promises like till we get a few tings
straight here, yeah?" She smiled down at him. It was not a friendly smile, and
the sharp squeeze she gave his throat seemed to confirm that.
"First, Aye'm only goin ta say this once. You didn't see /shit/ in here, ya got
dat, boyo? Ya say someting ta da engineer, or anyone else fer that matter, an
Aye'll make sure ya hear me 'fore Aye kill ya."
She shift herself slightly, one leg shifting between the scout's legs, where she
began to put a light, but /very/ unpleasant pressure down on him, "An' second,
ya /EVAR/ peep on me again, an Aye'll be wearin those useless things ya got
danglin' there round my neck as a reminder!"
Excuse after lie after blubbering, pathetic plead raced through his
head, each blurrier and harder to discern than the last, until Randall's
brain was nothing but a petrified buzz of mindless terror.
Also, he needed those things she was crushing.
"OK," he rasped in an exceptionally feeble voice.
"Aye'm going ta need a little more dan dat." She growled, keeping the pressure
up between his legs, but slowly started relaxing her grip on his neck, "...but I
guess it's a start."
She finally shift her leg back a bit, giving him a bit more room to try and sort
things out, but not about to let him up fully yet.
"Oh God, my tenders--"
Randall let out a groan of relief, filtered through clenched teeth when
the pyro/crazy broad let up. He resisted the urge to curse, not wanting
to do anything that might provoke her. Humbly, he lifted his gaze to
risk a glance at her face.
"C-c'mon, McKlowen, we're cool, right?"
Her lips quirked upward slightly into a crooked smirk, "Cool? You think we're
cool? You obviously haven't been payin' attention here. I've got you by da balls
here, Sterling. And if you tink you're gonna take dis whole ting little, I
intend ta /collect/. So yeah. As long as you've got dat down, we're cool."
Oh, shit. Surname. He was in deep shit.
Randall's lips pulled back over buck teeth, a shaky grin fixing itself in place. He tried to remember how to breathe properly without pissing himself in terror.
Don't ask how that correlated, he wasn't sure, either.
"I won't tell anyone. I won't. I swear."
He seemed genuine, through fear if nothing else.
She frowned down at him for a moment, seeming to scan over his expression and
the look in his eyes slowly, before finally she moved back, and got to her feet,
hands resting on her hips as she looked at him.
"Good. Now Aye'm going ta go finish my showerin'. You do whatever da hell ya
want." And with that, she turned, striding slowly back over to the faucet she'd
been using and turned the water back on, and stepped into the stream as if
nothing more was the matter.
Randall watched her resume her shower, looking so casual about it all.
His chest was heaving, and he felt that he couldn't move, the lingering
hold of panic being an unrelenting one. Finally, though, he did pull
himself to his feet.
"Right," he said weakly.
He almost wanted to leave altogether, but his pride wouldn't allow for
it, no matter how scary this dame was. He felt over his pants, damp from
when the pyro had tackled him, and he tugged them off and shuffled back
towards the bench his clothes were piled upon, opting to set them down
carefully instead of tossing them. He had no idea what'd set her off,
and he'd rather not find out.
And now, he found himself standing in front of his own faucet, fiddling
carefully with the temperature and risking a glance or two at McKlowen.
A broad. Could you believe that? How'd she even get in here?
"So--" he started to ask her, but stopped himself. He cleared his
throat, and focused instead on cleaning himself.
She didn't say anything for a moment, and the scout might think that perhaps
she'd missed the feeble beginning of a question, until there was a low grunt.
"So.... what?" She turned her head to look at him, one eye squinted open against
the water.
"NOTHIN' it's nothin' s'nothin' swear it's nothin'..." Randall muttered,
ducking his head and bunching his shoulders, scrubbing them till they
were raw.
"Just didn't know dat BLU hired dames, is all."
"Dey don't... 'least not in a co-ed sorta way." She sighed, ducking her head
under the water before she stepped back slightly, "Aye was hired ta be the pyro
for an all female team, as far as I knew, and I guess some wires musta gotten
crossed or someting, and I found myself here at Teufort."
A faint smirk curled her lips and she looked thoughtful for a moment, "...though
from time ta time I've wondered... so if I ended up here... who ended up in my
place..."
"Dere's an all-ladies team? Huh..."
Randall trailed off thoughtfully, and ducked his head into the stream of
water, washing his hair. He supposed that made sense. You know, if you
operated on prison logic, which this place seemed to half the time.
McKlowen's next question made him pause again, and lift his head. He
wiped water carefully from his eyes.
"I'unno? Maybe he's keepin' in a secret like you's are."
"Maybe." She shrugged, then reached out, shutting the water off before she
turned, walking over to where she'd left her suit, picking up the discarded
towel beside it as she began to dry herself off.
"Well, Aye'd say it was fun, but your balls would disagree."
Randall made a small, painful sound of agreement. He turned, glancing over his shoulder at the pyro, and he chewed on his tongue.
Well, what did he say now? He really had no plans on telling anyone, not after that threat and, frankly, he wouldn't have anyway. She was keeping it a secret for a reason. He would've had to be a way bigger jerk than he was to go spilling something like that.
"See ya tomorrow," he muttered, turning back to the stream of water, hoping to wash up in peace now.
Confident as they were, Hugh and Viktor hadn't managed to capture the intel. It was jarring, then, when that damned RED spy had come so fucking close to snatching theirs up again. Again. If it hadn't been for McKlowen, then BLU would have suffered their second humiliation in such short order; an almost literal one-two punch.
Damn REDs.
It had been a measly two days since that mission. Randall's injuries had stung fiercely but, in the end, hadn't been severe. A short burst from the medigun when Hugh returned, and he was on his way again.
Fuck everything. He was gonna take a shower.
Only they had those damn open showers, didn't they? And the last thing Randall needed to see was Barnes naked. That would do nothing good for his mood.
And so, he waited. He waited until the last of the hustle and bustle of the BLU base died down into a quiet murmur, and then not even that. As soon as he was certain that everyone was either asleep, or otherwise occupied, he made his way towards the showers. He was enraptured by the thought of a quiet, peaceful shower, all by his lonesome for the first time in so long. He was in an understandably good mood when he walked into the shower room, humming loud and without a care.
Only then, he stopped. He heard running water.
"Someone here?" he called. Or had some idiot left the water going? Conrad would lose his mind, if that was the case.
The water stopped with an audible screech of metal and the sudden silence that
lasted a moment before the almost frantic sound of footsteps could be heard
slapping against the wet ground as the mystery person rushed across the shower
room.
"HRR! OCCRRPRRD! OCCRRPRRD!!" A familiar, muffled voice shouted from behind the
wall that still separated Randall from the showers a moment later.
Oh. Guess that explained why no one ever saw the pyro showering, maybe he didn't
like the whole 'communal shower' thing all that much either.
Randall blinked, looking rather politely confused.
"McKlowen?" he said, unsure, as he cocked his head to look at the wall,
as though he'd walk around it to get a look. But he thought better of
it. He knew he didn't like it much when someone stared at him in the
shower.
Unless it was Hugh. But that was something else entirely. He cleared his
throat, and he shrugged.
"Whatever man, I hate dis public shower B.S. too."
But still, he stood still, fingers curling beneath his jaw and his
eyebrows lifting. He really did wonder what the pyro looked like.
"YRRS. GRRD. GO. AWRR." The pyro almost sounded more frantic then angry, though
the sharp edge of anger was certainly there. There was nothing for a moment,
save the faint echo of the pyro's heaving breathing.
"WRRLL?!"
Randall waved his hands, and McKlowen would hear the scrapper stepping
further the room. His shoes tip-tapping against the floor was almost
ominous, wasn't it?
"How 'bout I promise not to look at you if you don't look at me. I'll
stay on dis side."
Randall started to pull his shirt off, and kick his shoes off. Perhaps,
he thought, he'd take a quick peek around the corner, despite his words.
What would it hurt, to know what the pyro looked like? And the notion of
actually knowing--of even getting a glimpse--was enough to make him feel
downright giddy. He liked the idea of knowing something the rest of his
team didn't. A smug, childish thing to feel, but powerful nevertheless.
"Hww brrt Rr krckk yrr tffh in?!" The pyro practically barked through his mask.
Was the guy really that paranoid that he didn't even want you to hear what he
sounded like? I mean geez, there was being nervous about people seein' you
naked, and then there was just /weird/.
What the fuck, had he been touched as a kid or something? Ha!
No, that wasn't funny at all. He coughed loudly, and cleared his throat
in an exaggerated way.
"Uh, no. I need my teeth."
He turned, and leaned back against the wall, lifting his feet one after
the other, and pulling his socks off. McKlowen would hear him move
towards a bench, dropping the few articles of clothing he'd cared to
shed. He was bare now, save for his pants, and pacing around his side of
the wall.
"Look, I can only handle so much fuckin' man-stink before it starts
t'make my skin crawl. I won't come around till you're done."
No more than a peek, anyway. Drumming his fingertips together, he began
to, with quiet, bare footsteps, sneak towards the edge of the wall. He
brushed the wall with his fingers, and bit his lip, his entire body
buzzing with excited curiosity.
There was nothing but the low sounds of the pyro breathing for a moment, before
even that seemed to grow fainter, and there was an almost hurried sound of cloth
and rubber moving. It looked like the pyro had officially decided he was done
now. If you didn't move fast, Randall, you were never going to get that peek!
And what could one little peek hurt, anyway? Just a glance, and McKlowen
would be none the wiser. Randall held his breath, and quickly turned,
his head craning around the corner to get a look at the pyro.
And he stopped.
And he exhaled, loud, and alarmed.
"You're a dame?!"
She's a dame?!
Yes, we just covered that.
The pyro, McKlowen's head snapped around fast as lightning, only one leg fully
pulled into her suit.
Her skin was pale, like she hadn't been out in natural light for months... hell,
probably years. Her hair was a mess, hacked and cut short, likely done hastily
in front of a mirror when it was needed.
The scout likely would have had only a moment to process this, along with the
highly defined muscles of her frame, before she was in motion, her suit
forgotten behind her as she streaked across the damp floor of the shower towards
the scout, and for an instant he'd get a decent look at the heavy scars covering
her hands and forearms, before she was grasping for him, trying to throw him to
the ground.
Randall did little, save stare, slack-jawed and trying to comprehend
what he was seeing. She was already halfway across the room before he
realized what was going on, but it was too late by then. He yelped as
she barreled into him, and slammed him into the floor. His mind spun,
and he started to panic.
"W-whoa! Lemme up!"
Wasn't there a "no teamkilling" rule?
She had quickly straddled the scout, pinning him down firmly, while he other
hand reached up, grasping Randall's throat tightly with one hand, while the
other curled first into a fist, arching back... before shakily uncurling itself
for a moment, then tightening again as she pointed a finger slowly at his face,
shaking it lightly back and forth, "Ya've made one hell of a big mistake, boyo."
Randall pondered the accent very, very briefly, before panicking again.
He whined, and curled his fingers against the floor. His eyes were so
wide they looked just about ready to pop out of his skull.
"Please don't beat me up and then set me on fire and then smash me into
paste wit' your sledgehammer."
A very specific, but necessary request, he felt.
"Oh, Aye tink we'll be holdin' off on any promises like till we get a few tings
straight here, yeah?" She smiled down at him. It was not a friendly smile, and
the sharp squeeze she gave his throat seemed to confirm that.
"First, Aye'm only goin ta say this once. You didn't see /shit/ in here, ya got
dat, boyo? Ya say someting ta da engineer, or anyone else fer that matter, an
Aye'll make sure ya hear me 'fore Aye kill ya."
She shift herself slightly, one leg shifting between the scout's legs, where she
began to put a light, but /very/ unpleasant pressure down on him, "An' second,
ya /EVAR/ peep on me again, an Aye'll be wearin those useless things ya got
danglin' there round my neck as a reminder!"
Excuse after lie after blubbering, pathetic plead raced through his
head, each blurrier and harder to discern than the last, until Randall's
brain was nothing but a petrified buzz of mindless terror.
Also, he needed those things she was crushing.
"OK," he rasped in an exceptionally feeble voice.
"Aye'm going ta need a little more dan dat." She growled, keeping the pressure
up between his legs, but slowly started relaxing her grip on his neck, "...but I
guess it's a start."
She finally shift her leg back a bit, giving him a bit more room to try and sort
things out, but not about to let him up fully yet.
"Oh God, my tenders--"
Randall let out a groan of relief, filtered through clenched teeth when
the pyro/crazy broad let up. He resisted the urge to curse, not wanting
to do anything that might provoke her. Humbly, he lifted his gaze to
risk a glance at her face.
"C-c'mon, McKlowen, we're cool, right?"
Her lips quirked upward slightly into a crooked smirk, "Cool? You think we're
cool? You obviously haven't been payin' attention here. I've got you by da balls
here, Sterling. And if you tink you're gonna take dis whole ting little, I
intend ta /collect/. So yeah. As long as you've got dat down, we're cool."
Oh, shit. Surname. He was in deep shit.
Randall's lips pulled back over buck teeth, a shaky grin fixing itself in place. He tried to remember how to breathe properly without pissing himself in terror.
Don't ask how that correlated, he wasn't sure, either.
"I won't tell anyone. I won't. I swear."
He seemed genuine, through fear if nothing else.
She frowned down at him for a moment, seeming to scan over his expression and
the look in his eyes slowly, before finally she moved back, and got to her feet,
hands resting on her hips as she looked at him.
"Good. Now Aye'm going ta go finish my showerin'. You do whatever da hell ya
want." And with that, she turned, striding slowly back over to the faucet she'd
been using and turned the water back on, and stepped into the stream as if
nothing more was the matter.
Randall watched her resume her shower, looking so casual about it all.
His chest was heaving, and he felt that he couldn't move, the lingering
hold of panic being an unrelenting one. Finally, though, he did pull
himself to his feet.
"Right," he said weakly.
He almost wanted to leave altogether, but his pride wouldn't allow for
it, no matter how scary this dame was. He felt over his pants, damp from
when the pyro had tackled him, and he tugged them off and shuffled back
towards the bench his clothes were piled upon, opting to set them down
carefully instead of tossing them. He had no idea what'd set her off,
and he'd rather not find out.
And now, he found himself standing in front of his own faucet, fiddling
carefully with the temperature and risking a glance or two at McKlowen.
A broad. Could you believe that? How'd she even get in here?
"So--" he started to ask her, but stopped himself. He cleared his
throat, and focused instead on cleaning himself.
She didn't say anything for a moment, and the scout might think that perhaps
she'd missed the feeble beginning of a question, until there was a low grunt.
"So.... what?" She turned her head to look at him, one eye squinted open against
the water.
"NOTHIN' it's nothin' s'nothin' swear it's nothin'..." Randall muttered,
ducking his head and bunching his shoulders, scrubbing them till they
were raw.
"Just didn't know dat BLU hired dames, is all."
"Dey don't... 'least not in a co-ed sorta way." She sighed, ducking her head
under the water before she stepped back slightly, "Aye was hired ta be the pyro
for an all female team, as far as I knew, and I guess some wires musta gotten
crossed or someting, and I found myself here at Teufort."
A faint smirk curled her lips and she looked thoughtful for a moment, "...though
from time ta time I've wondered... so if I ended up here... who ended up in my
place..."
"Dere's an all-ladies team? Huh..."
Randall trailed off thoughtfully, and ducked his head into the stream of
water, washing his hair. He supposed that made sense. You know, if you
operated on prison logic, which this place seemed to half the time.
McKlowen's next question made him pause again, and lift his head. He
wiped water carefully from his eyes.
"I'unno? Maybe he's keepin' in a secret like you's are."
"Maybe." She shrugged, then reached out, shutting the water off before she
turned, walking over to where she'd left her suit, picking up the discarded
towel beside it as she began to dry herself off.
"Well, Aye'd say it was fun, but your balls would disagree."
Randall made a small, painful sound of agreement. He turned, glancing over his shoulder at the pyro, and he chewed on his tongue.
Well, what did he say now? He really had no plans on telling anyone, not after that threat and, frankly, he wouldn't have anyway. She was keeping it a secret for a reason. He would've had to be a way bigger jerk than he was to go spilling something like that.
"See ya tomorrow," he muttered, turning back to the stream of water, hoping to wash up in peace now.