Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was currently a ceasefire. The base was rowdy as always. Demo had decided the team had to celebrate, and forced everybody ( Even Spy...somehow.) into the lounging room.

So here the team was. Some drunk, some not. The television Engie had upgraded sat on the TV stand. Hooked up to whatever channel that could reach it. There weren't many channels, much like the radio which only played a select few songs.

When suddenly the channel switched to something. A seemingly innocent broadcast at first, before changing into a deranged looking person. Scrambling with the camera pointed at them in a dark room. Their eyes clearly belonging to one of a drug addict.

A few of the heads turned to the television, the rest either cared less about it, or just were too drunk.

' ' Is this thing on-? Okay- HI. WHOEVER, WHEREVER WATCHING THIS... PLEASE. LISTEN. THERE'S A CRAZY GROUP OF MEN IN THE BADLANDS OF NEW MEXICO. I RECENTLY GOT A CHANNEL, OF THEM HIRING A NEW MERCENARY . I KNOW. ITS- CRAZY. IM NOT CRAZY. BUT PLEASE. I'M CURRENTLY MAKING A- THING TO REVEAL EVERYTHING ABOUT THESE PSYCHOS IN THE DESERT. IM NOT CRAZY. ' '

And with that the feed cuts. Switching back to the previous broadcast. Everybody's heads had turned to the TV by the end of the broadcast. The mildly inconvenient threat of somebody revealing the happenings in the Badlands, lingering in the room.

Well shit.

Chapter Text

You sit in front of the deactivated camera step up. After that whole... monologue into the camera. You genuinely feel like a deranged psychopath. You just screamed into cameras. God your neighbours must really hate you right now.

That could probably make people see you, people who you didn't know. OH GOD. You immediately moved to destroy the camera, pushing over the stand it was on and stomping on it. Glass digging into your socks, then your feet. You kept it going for a while more. Now on the ground was a broken camera, blood, and glass from the camera lens.

' ' At least nobody can watch me now. TAKE THAT ALIEN SCUM! ' ' You scream while pointing at the ceiling above you. Hands shaking. That's when you realise your foot is bleeding. ' ' ...It'll fix itself. ' '

( Tw drug intake. Skip if need be. )

You trudge to the drug stash, grabbing a bag of coke from the cabinet. Slamming it closed when you have it.

Making your way to the trashed living room. You knelt in front of the coffee table. Lining the coke, then grabbing the straw thingy. You let out a deep exhale before snorting the coke into your nose.

( End of the TW. )

You tossed the used straw aside, into a pile of wrappers and plastic baggies. You move to sit on the couch, pushing over a stack of tinfoil hats. Your hand runs through your frazzled and unwashed hair. Your water bills were cut a while ago, but once the broadcast you sent gets out, you'll be in a mansion, and be called a hero by everybody. Prove to the idiots who called you crazy wrong.

That's when it occurs to you. Oh god. What if the video got to the exact people you were warning people about. They'd come after you. They'd torture you, probe you, experiment on you like some kind of lab rat. You rise to your feet , looking around the room. You needed your bear traps. Put it at the doors, windows, ANYWHERE.

You rush to the storeroom, scrambling to find the traps you bought just to keep yourself safe. Once you eventually find them, the coke you had just taken kicks in. Your vision going blurry and colourful. You giggle to yourself, dazed and high. Monkeys swinging around the walls, unicorns drinking from rainbow pools. You wander around the drug induced wonderland.

( Tw for SH and disassociation )

Next thing you knew, you were in the bathroom, standing in front of the broken mirror. A razor blade taped to a glass shard in hand. The razor on their wrists. All you see and smell is blood. Three scores on your neck, a new set of scars on your wrists. You scream into the broken mirror. You look at yourself with the few pieces of the mirror still visible. All you see is your neck, cut open your vocal cords torn and ripped out your throat.
You blink.
It's gone. You look down, your stomach is cut open, much like your neck when you look into the mirror , organs spilling out. Blood. So much blood.

You blink once more.

It's gone, again. You really needed to get yourself together.

( End of TW )

You exit the bathroom, wrists and foot bandaged up. You walk to the store room, grabbing a few bear traps, placing them under the window. And one that was still closed next to the door. Just in case. You grab the shotgun from the living room, slamming yourself onto the bed. Sleeping with the fully loaded shotgun. Drifting off into a painfully nightmare ridden dream.

Chapter Text

You woke up with a jolt. Fucking nightmares ways harassing your dreams. It would be so much better if you just didn't dream for a while. But whatever. You look at the digital clock next to your bed, 5pm. Later than usual...

You got off the bed, holding the shotgun you slept with like a child dragging around a stuffed toy after a nap. You walk over to your cabinets to look for your stash. Opening the handles to check what you had, but find only empty ziplock bags filling said cabinet.

' ' ...Shit. Need to go get stock again.. ' ' you gr.umble to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose. You close the cabinets doors and walk over to the fridge, checking for a note on the next time you could get more of your coke. Oh. You could pick some up today....neat!

You change out of your worn hoodie, putting on a sage green sweater and a different pair of sweatpants. Tying your mullet up into a slick bun. Putting your shotgun away and taking out a pistol your father gifted you for your 14th birthday.

You unlock your door, opening it. Stepping over the papers that piled up outside of it. You could care less about it right now. You to the lift lobby only to find the lifts were broken. You opt to rush down the staircase.

You look at the mailboxes your apartment building had. Yours filled to the brim with letters, probably about your rent. You might have to pay that soon. But first, you need to get your stash.

You rub your eyes, adjusting to the sunlight as you step out the apartment complex. You move to pull up a hood but realise your in a sweater. Whatever.

Walking down the streets , you want to cover your ears so bad. The loud noises surrounding you. The cars honking, the people chattering as their footsteps graze the pavement. The way people drag their feet across the ground instead of normal steps. The cats fighting in the alley. The chattering in the shops you pass. You feel as though all eyes are on you.

Judging, burning, hurting.

You want it to stop. You need to scream. You need to get away. Kill the sound. Kill the noise. Even breathing was getting louder.

Walking briskly into a secluded and more quiet alleyway to calm your racing heart and shattered mind. You place a hand to your heart...calming it slowly..despite the calmness you still feel eyes on you.

You walk out the alleyway, breathing still heavy. 2 more blocks. 2 more blocks and you could get your fix and forget everything. Be everything.

As you reach your destination , you check your pockets in case. Wallet, pistol and sterile rubber gloves. You enter the alleyway you where you usually meet your dealer at. Knocking in a specific order to alert your dealer.

' ' You again huh? Shoulda known. Run out already? ' ' a man came out from door in the alley way. You know the door lead to a sort of restaurant, you don't remember the name much though. ' ' Ay, come on here. I got whatcha want. None of the other dealers in this shit hole got anything on me. Those shitheads got lead in they fucking stash. ' '

You scratch your arms, watching as he takes out a black cloth bag. ' ' Just don't finish it too fast. This is atleast 2 months worth of stock. Don't want you ODing. You heard 'bout that kid down- ' '

' ' I know Harrison. I know. How much for this. ' ' You cut him off, rather not talking about that. For a dealer, he cared about a ton of his clients.

' ' Ah, on the house. Some tough guy tried to scam me. So I took his money and kept the stock. Consider this his donation to you or well my donation. ' ' He holds the bag out. You can't help but smile..god he was gonna be the death of you.

' ' thanks. A lot. ' ' you let out an amused sigh. Taking the bag and checking it. ' ' your a good guy. Don't get why you do this. ' ' you look up at him.

' ' Ah don't worry about the details. You should go before sundown. Want something from the restaurant? ' ' you shake your head and he nods. Walking back into the restaurant by the backdoor.

As you walk back to your apartment. You feel the eyes on you again, you just kept your head low and bag in hand. You just wanted to be in the comfort and safety of your home right now. Away from all the eyes in Teufort.

Little did you know though. The stares you were getting weren't from anybody who was from the town. 9 mercenaries with a goal, a mission.

To capture that Conspiracy Theorist

Chapter Text

' ' So what should we do Miss Pauling? ' ' Scout asked, standing around the meeting room table. After the broadcast, the team immediately contacted Miss Pauling informing her about what had happened. Now here they were. At 5 in the morning, considering what should be done.

' ' The best course of action should be finding this guy. We need to find out their identity, location, how they were able to find out about MannCo and find out if they are a threat. If they aren't, we'll just get Medic to scoop their brain. If they are, we might just have to kill them. ' '

Miss Pauling stated, tapping her chin.

' ' Spy, Scout, Sniper, Engie and Medic. I think you'd be best suited for this. Engie can start the confrontation, Spy can sneak in to find out anything about them. Scout can stand and look out if they decide to run off. Sniper, Medic your roles should be quite clear. If there are no questions, I really need to go. ' '

Miss Pauling not missing a beat, left anyways. Leaving the 9 men to just let the worries sink in. Well at least those who WERE worried, let in sink in.

' ' Well. While you dolts were dilly-dallying. I was able to find our little Conspiracy Theorist's location. ' ' Spy places down a file . ' ' They have no real identity. The apartment they reside in being leased under the name 'Ionis Sol'. The address being [ insert a random address in Teufort ] . ' ' Spy adjusts his tie. ' ' Now gentlemen, and Scout. ' '

' ' HEY- ' '

' ' I expect you all to be ready. I'm sure Miss Pauling wants the threat eliminated immediately. ' '

' ' Well, hold on a second there Spy- ' ' Spy cloaked, right before Engineer could finish his sentence. ' ' ...That's that. ' ' He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. ' ' Alright Y'all, Ya heard the spook. ' '

' ' Let's get that kid. ' '