1 . Name: Kaleido @ 2013-06-30 23:50

AN: Nothing explicit in this chapter but I’m putting it here just in case things escalate. It’s been ages since I’ve written something (and first with these characters) and I feel pretty rusty so please nitpick and concrit.
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If you asked anyone else, they would blame Soldier for this. But you didn’t have to ask them because they’d tell you anyway.

Merasmus had been Soldier’s roommate. It was Soldier who had driven him over the edge with his broom-breaking, fridge burying, sour cream-hiding, body-immolating antics. It had taken the strength of both teams reluctantly cooperating in order to defeat the spirit of the vengeful magician and the forbidden eldritch tome the Bombinomicon.

Afterwards there had been the cleanup. Medic had wanted to scavenge what Merasmus had left in his dwelling, and Pyro of course wanted to make the raccoon sanctuary all nice and safe for the little creatures now inhabiting the area. So they went to work collecting or destroying anything bizarre and magical that could spell out trouble for them in the future.

If you asked anyone else, they would blame Soldier because they were his raccoons.

If you asked Soldier, he would blame Sniper for opening the fridge.

- - -

In Sniper’s defense it had sounded like one of the raccoons had managed to trap themselves in the fridge, so he naturally opened the door to let the problematic Procyon out.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t a raccoon.

The Engineer had been the first on the scene and gotten a good look at it. Perhaps it had been a raccoon at one point before it fell into something, ate something, or was exposed to something that had given it non-raccoon properties. Properties like three inch fangs that dripped green, glowing red eyes and a razor blade tail. Sniper had been flat on the ground with both hands gripping the creature’s limbs to prevent it from reaching his face while it hissed and bled all over him. Tossed to the side was the man’s kukri he had instinctively brought out, but a slash only seemed to infuriate the creature further and it had knocked them both to the ground.

Engineer didn’t hesitate pulling a wrench from one of his belt loops and smashing it into the not-coon’s snarling face like a croquet mallet. It landed with a plop on the grass a few yards away just in time for the arriving Pyro to pull the trigger on his flamethrower and finish it off.

Sniper had seemed fine aside from a few cuts and those had been quickly taken care of by Medic. Soldier had been upset that the fridge had been opened and that why did they think he had bothered to summon every raccoon within a hundred miles of the place in order to seal the evil away? Demo had made some comment about failing to put a lock on the fridge or informing the rest of the team of the danger to begin with, and that next time Soldier needed to dispose of evil creatures he had better go to him who had some experience in the field.

Spy just thought it was hilarious Sniper had nearly been killed by an overgrown rat.

Eventually the day wore on, everything had been properly stored or immolated and the incident had been put out of their minds.

The next day the Engineer learned the Sniper had fallen ill. The Medic disclosed little aside from voicing his displeasure that the Sniper would rather remain in his camper van than in the infirmary. But since Engineer had heard the doctor had already tried to extract a pint of blood from the Australian, he really couldn’t blame him.

That had been three days ago and the Sniper hadn’t been seen since.

Luckily ceasefire still remained, but it wouldn’t last forever. After having one of Heavy’s sandviches and a glass of milk for lunch, Engineer had decided make the same thing to bring Sniper something to eat. He knocked on the door of the camper van and waited. After a moment came an irritated shout of, “Go away!” from the Sniper.

“Stretch, it’s just me,” said the Engineer. “The Doc ain’t here.”

There was a thump and muffled sound of movement before locks unsnapped and the door opened just a crack, but not enough for the Engineer to see his friend’s face. “Truckie?”

“Hey there. Been wonderin’ how ya been,” he lifted the hand carrying the plated sandvich. “Thought you might be hungry, if you’re not too sick?”

There was silence long enough for the Engineer to worry if the Sniper was even there. “…Sniper?”

“…Yeah,” came the response. The Sniper cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, I ….come in. Don’t….don’t let the light in.”

The entire van was dark and murky, save for the few strips of light coming from the open door. The air in the van was cool, a welcoming contrast to the baked heat outside. The Engineer did his best to slip through and shut it. He could see enough to tell where things were, and offered the sandvich to the Sniper who plucked it off the plate. He strode over to the little table and seats that were in his “kitchen” and sat down, already consuming the sandvich.

Something was wrong. Normally he and the Sniper were on friendly enough terms to be relaxed when in each other’s company. But here the Sniper was acting reserved, and not the kind that indicated he was merely ill and wanted to go back to recuperating. He looked tired and on edge, but that was probably due to his hunger if the speed he was eating the sandvich was any indication.

“Boy, you sure were hungry,” the Engineer chuckled. It did nothing to relieve the tension, and the Sniper just dipped his head in acknowledgement and resumed eating.

The Engineer glanced around the van. The windows had all been shaded and it didn’t look like the Sniper had been taking regular meals either. But if he was sick that wasn’t out of the ordinary. The Engineer happened to scan the tiny sink from across from them and blinked.

One of the Medic’s blood bags was in it. It was empty now but it had been filled with blood at one point, the top of the bag ripped open. The Engineer frowned. What use would the Sniper have for that?

“Slim?” he said. Suddenly he was very aware of the Sniper’s eyes on him. “What is…what’s going on?” He turned to look back at the Sniper, who was in the middle of sighing but he could see that the Australian’s normally sharp canine teeth looked inexplicably sharper.

The Engineer froze. “…Holy shit.”

He was quick to react. Fighting for your life on a daily business did wonders for the reflexes, especially when one had to deal with the possibility that any teammate dropping by to use the dispenser was actually an enemy spy in disguise. The Engineer was on his feet and had his pistol withdrawn and aiming at the Sniper within the span of a second.

“Wait!” The Sniper had remained in his seat, holding up his empty hands. “Truckie, just wait a damn moment, will ya?”

“What the hell happened, Slim?”

“Put the gun down, I ain’t gonna attack ya! Medic and Heavy know about it. I caught something from that bugger we fought at that wizard’s castle.”

The Engineer gave the other man a long look. The Sniper was looking at him with pleading eyes, but the Texan noted there was a faint glow to them that had nothing to do with the poor lighting in the van. He slipped his pistol back into its holster, but remained standing. “So what’s it done, exactly?”

The Sniper lowered his hands and pushed the empty sandvich plate aside. “Gave me some kind of infection when it bled on me. Only I’m not sick. Not like….a regular sickness. It’s thrown my constitution out of sorts. Me eye can barely handle light. ….Unguttuhdreenblahd.”

“…Didn’t quite catch the last one, what was that?”

More mumbling.

“I’m sorry but could you repeat—”

“Blood, Truckie! I need to drink blood!”

There was silence in the small dark camper van. The Sniper covered his face, elbows resting on the small table.

“Oh.”

“’Oh?’” The Sniper lifted his head and glared at him. “Wot kind of response is that?”

The Engineer shrugged and rubbed his chin. “Sorry about that, it’s just we’ve had a week of fighting a wizard so I’m a bit used to finding out something weird’s happened to a teammate.” He started ticking things off with his fingers. “We’ve had time sped up, gravity screwed up, instant decapitation, heads shrunk, heads enlargened, forced to do a dance off against the other team… This ain’t the worst thing that’s happened.”

“It’s just happened to me. Doc was all over me, poking and prodding.” The Australian gestured to the empty packet in the sink. “I couldn’t stand it so I grabbed the packet of spare blood he had in his fridge and I’ve been in here ever since.”

“So…you’re some kind of vampire?”

The Sniper threw his hands up. “I don’t know what I am. I’m still alive. I ain’t dead. I can’t turn into a bat or a wolf. Light only hurts my eyes, s’not like it really hurts me.” He sighed and slumped in his seat. “S’not like I can do me job, either. Too bright to fight. Even if we moved to one of the nighttime battlefields there’s still a buncha lights on all the time. “

The Engineer brightened. Now this was a problem he could fix. “No problem! I use my own goggles all the time to protect my eyes while workin’ on my machines. All we need to do is make a pair for your specifications.”

“Yeah?” the Sniper sat up, his morose demeanor having evaporated. “Like what?”

“Use a material better blocking light, for one,” said the Engineer. “If your eyes are so sensitive. And design the pair better suited for the wearer looking out at distant targets and not hunched over looking at reflective metal all day long. I can whip something up for you in time for work tomorrow.”

The Sniper nodded. “I’d like that, Truckie. Don’t like waiting helpless, ya know? I mean…I trust the Doc to figure things out on his end but I’m not used to relying so much on other folks. Don’t care fer gettin’ poked like a lab animal, either.”

“He’s just enthusiastic about his work, is all.”

Sniper stood up, or tried to. He wobbled and tripped, forcing the Engineer to grab hold of his shoulders before he crashed into a counter. “Whoa there, Slim. Not so fast.” He maneuvered them over to the little bed that served as Sniper’s sleeping place and sat them both down. Even in the dark van he could see Sniper didn’t look so good despite the sanvich he had eaten. “Ya got any more…blood?”

Sniper grunted a negative. “Don’t wanna go back to the infirmary. Don’t want the others to see me like this.”

The Engineer paused. He looked up and down Sniper, at his pallid face and labored breathing. It was true that this wasn’t the worst he had seen Sniper, far from it. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t affected by his friend suffering.

“Is there a way you can…take what you need from me?”

The Sniper shot him a glance. “Yer kiddin’.”

“Look Slim, if I make a trip to the infirmary Medic’ll get tipped off and he might insist on coming out here to have a look at your himself. Unless you’re contagious?”

“No, I didn’t get infected by being bitten. Getting scratched up and having that bugger bleed on me is what did it.”

“Well then. Do you prefer someone in particular to donate or? I could get them to come—”

“What? No! It’s just weird, is all.”

The Engineer shrugged. “Sorry fella, but I don’t see any other way of getting you blood.”

“Yer right.”

He let the Sniper remain sitting while he rifled through the van in search for a container, but all he found was a canteen, which he didn’t think the Sniper would be pleased putting blood in it. “You got anything we can put blood in?”

“Sorry Truckie, I don’t keep much glassware on hand.”

The Engineer plopped back on the mattress next to the Sniper. “We could do this the old-fashioned way, I suppose.”

The Australian’s eyes widened in alarm. “Y-You sure about that?”

“You’re practically dead on your feet, son. I can afford to lose a little blood.”

They took a moment before determining the best place on the Engineer was around his right forearm where he normally covered it up with his glove. While both wanted to avoid an unnecessary trip through respawn they also wanted to avoid any questions from teammates about why he was sporting bite marks.

With his glove off the Engineer offered his forearm to his friend, who held it uncertainly.

“Are you really sure about this?”

“I told you, I’m fine. And if you go overboard I’ll hit you with my wrench or just shoot ya.”

They both chuckled. Finally the Sniper nodded and brought his lips to the Engineer’s skin.

There was a small, sharp pain, then even that diminished and Sniper’s eyes were closed and his throat was working and he was swallowing the Engineer’s blood. He tried to remain still, making things easier for both of them as well as avoiding a mess. The Sniper cradled his arm at the wrist and the elbow, not clenching it but allowing some stability while giving him the freedom to pull away.

It didn’t hurt like he had expected. It didn’t feel wonderful either. It straddled the line between pain and pleasure like an itch. The Engineer was reminded when he was a little boy and he had started losing his baby teeth. The Sniper feeding from him felt strangely similar to the way wriggling a loose tooth had felt.

There was also the strange sensation of pride that he was the one to help his friend, to give this to him, to ease his pain. His chest felt warm, and despite the fact he was losing blood he felt like he had more energy. He was almost giddy and had to fight the smile tugging on the corners of his lips when Sniper suddenly pulled back.

The Engineer opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when Sniper leaned forward again, but this time began to lick the small wounds. The Engineer remained silent, unable to find his voice and could only watch as his friend slowly ran his tongue over the place his teeth had pierced skin. Finally the Sniper sat back up with a sigh of satisfaction and cricked his neck.

The Engineer blinked. “That’s it?” It had taken so little time. He had expected to be feeling weak, drained. But the Sniper hadn’t taken much more than half a pint.

“Mmm, yeah. Don’t need much.” He shifted on the mattress and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about the licking. I produce this enzyme after feeding that coagulates the blood, at least that’s what the Doc said.”

The Texan glanced down at his arm to see the bite wasn’t even dribbling blood. “Well I’ll be. Would make sense if this were a natural thing. ”

The Sniper had brought out a handkerchief and wiped it across his mouth, then grimaced.

“Something wrong?”

“What? Oh, no. It’s just…warm blood doesn’t taste as good.”

It wasn’t that funny but the Engineer found himself roaring with laugher anyway. He chortled as he fitted his glove back over his right hand. “A vampire with a sophisticated palette? Good thing Spy didn’t get infected.”

“Hey now, just because I gotta have some blood in me diet doesn’t mean I’m an animal. You like steak but that doesn’t mean you wanna go bitin’ some cow standing in the field!”

The Engineer held his hands up. “Alright, point taken. So blood is like beer, then? And you can still drink beer too, can’t ya?”

The Sniper nodded. “Yeah. I can have other things like before. I’d probably starve otherwise, blood ain’t very sustainable. ‘S’why you don’t see anything bigger than a mouse living strictly off blood.”

Already the Sniper was looking like his old self. He sat up straighter, his eyes brighter and his face the health of someone who had a much-needed meal put into them.

The Engineer stood up and stretched. “Suppose I’ll get started on some proper glasses for you so you can fight tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Truckie. That really means a lot.”

He began making his way to the door. “And I’ll swing by the Doc’s, see how far he’s come on a cure. At the very least I’ll see if some of the others would be willing to donate.”

“Donate?” The Sniper himself stood up and walked towards the door.

“Yeah, blood donations. Get Heavy or Demo to discreetly fill up some bags to put in Medic’s fridge. Something for you to grab if you need it. Is that a problem?”

“What? Oh, no. Of course not.”

The Engineer detected reluctance in his tone, but chalked that up to his reluctance to feeding in general.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you cured.”

The Sniper smiled, albeit a subdued one to hide the fangs. “You’re not hurtin’ or anything, are ya?”

He flexed his right arm and felt no pain. “Nope. Good as new.”

“Right. That’s…good. That’s good.”

The Engineer gripped the door handle and paused, looking back. “I’ll drop by tomorrow morning before we have to gear up to give your eyes something to wear.”

He wasn’t sure what else to say. He felt he was missing something important, something obvious. He couldn’t for the life of him think of what it was. He bade farewell and left the camper van, taking care not to let in the bright afternoon sun, and started the trek back to his workshop. He’d do his best to help the Sniper. Already he had ideas for an ultimate sun blocking glasses design. He ran his fingers over his right wrist, over the place the Sniper had bitten him.

He was certain a cure would be found, but until then…

Until then, he wouldn’t mind if his friend fed off him again.

He wouldn’t mind at all.



End