Freak fortress 2 Nightmare AU fan-fiction/ writer: bukkun
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Hello, hello! Here’s a new chapter I finished while procrastinating on my thesis. Trigger warnings for gore again, and miSS PAULING IN A NURSE OUTFIT GOODBYE
also bonus sniper/spy because ily cactus
By the time this part is posted, there’s an AO3 version of this uploaded. I’ll provide the link when I’m finished uploading the story. In the meantime, please enjoy! :D
In his dreams, things always seemed so real.
He was breathing hard, back pressed hard against a wall.
His eyes darted left and right, wild, shifting, desperate, searching, yet captive.
Where was the exit? Where should he go?
Panic rose, burning in his throat.
There was a doorway not too far away from him. Maybe, if he could…
Running—it was something he was really good at, right? His Ma said he was always such a good runner…
Hope flickered inside him. In the doorway he was eyeing, he could see light shining from what looked like an end of a corridor.
He’ll make it. He has to make it.
He didn’t wait for the count to finish. He burst out of the closet he hid in, and sprinted away through the doorway he was eyeing through the crack in the doors of the closet. He could hear the man laughing behind him as he ran, feet swift and in a blur beneath him as the ground fell away behind him as he ran as fast as he could—faster than he ever mustered before, breaths coming quick and steady like a rabbit’s pulse.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
He only barely heard the teasing voice, the sweet, playful tone, but he could hear fully the promise of blood and pain and torture beneath it.
Scout ran. He ran for his life.
“Okay, tell me again why you have me in a nurse uniform?” Miss Pauling scowled at the priest she walked with, the man’s expression carefully calm and giving nothing away as they walked past wards and rooms in the psychiatric ward Sniper had told her about not too long ago.
“We’re going incognito, and you were wearing a bloody dress. How is that not going to keep us under the covers?” Sniper replied with a coolness that would have shot cold shivers down Miss Pauling’s spine if she wasn’t careful.
“I wasn’t expecting a mental hospital.” She hissed back at him, and when no one was looking, she kicked at his side.
“Oi, the St. John the Baptist General Hospital is not a bloody loony house.” Sniper scowled at her, but it immediately disappeared when a pair of nuns passed them by, greeting Sniper amiably with demure nods of their heads and a light greeting of hello. “G’day, sisters.” He nodded at them, and when they passed by, he went right back to scowling at Miss Pauling. “You asked for my help, and here we are. I’m already robbin’ my mates of their haunt spots this way but what-bloody-ever, this is just to get you out of my hair.”
She frowned at him. “The sooner we get this kid’s curse broken, the sooner I can off myself.”
Sniper raised an eyebrow at her. “Why’d you want to off yourself, anyway?” he asked, and she sighed, suddenly looking much older and more tired than she usually did. A certain sense of pity washed over the exorcist—he knew that expression.
That was one people who run out of hope on life looked like.
“Things.” She replied simply. “I became an assassin with the sole goal of getting killed in the most spectacular way ever. Funny how my goal gave me this stupid immortality curse.”
Sniper could only nod. The priest inside him wanted to know more.
What could have happened to her to make her want to die this much?
He held his tongue, and with a gentleness that wasn’t there before, he rested his hand at the small of her back and led her deeper into the ward to where they needed to go.
He was running out of air.
Choking back the sobs that threatened to escape his mouth, Scout ran for his life, past furniture and memories dead and going and gone, silent and dead underneath white, unsullied sheets that hid them like ghosts of a past—or future—that he couldn’t reach. Not now, at least, as his steps rang and banged loudly like screams reverberating off walls—his screams, he realised.
The wind was knocked right out of his lungs as he crashed into the ground, a heavy weight on his back, and his blood run cold in his veins.
He’d been caught.
There was a heavy laugh in his ear that grew as the fear crawled up his throat.
“I found you.” The voice told him, mockingly, and he knew what came after that. “Now you’re it.”
“Please,” he pleaded, lips trembling, breaths burning, eyes stinging, “Please, don’t—”
The first blow came, between his shoulder blades, ripping a scream from his throat as a fist collided with the tender flesh between his bones, right on top of his spine, and a bodily-shuddering chill tore through his small body.
“Don’t what? But we’re having so much fun.”
A foot kicked him to the side, sending him flying into the wall, slamming him hard against it. He heard a sickening pop, and he just knew that something had gone wrong with his arm. He couldn’t move his right hand properly, and each attempt he made as he slid down the wall was met with searing pain.
He landed on the ground mercifully gracefully, choking back a sob as he felt his side flare up in pain—the man had kicked him in the side—there was probably something wrong with his ribs, too. Groaning, he tried to push himself up off the wall, tried to get away from the monster that attacked him—
When with inhuman speed, the man slammed him back up against the wall and he could see flashes of too-sharp teeth—vampire, his mind screamed—between blows of punches and kicks and slams of a metal object all over him, on his arms when he tried to bring them up as a sorry excuse of protection, or on his legs when he tried to crawl away, or his face when he couldn’t do either.
What was the worst about all of this was that he just couldn’t die.
That was all he needed—to get out of this nightmare.
His eyes widened when suddenly the blows stopped. Slowly he lifted his head to see the vampire turn around and spread his arms, like as if he was readying himself to meet with something.
Hope flared in Scout’s heart—had the Unisus, no, Engineer, come for him?
“My friends, hello,” the vampire snickered, and instantaneously, Scout’s flickering light of hope fizzed out. “Welcome,” he chuckled darkly, as he turned back to address Scout. “Let us all take our share of despair.”
The scream of tires, a wolf’s howl, a battle cry and the hiss of tongue against sharp, sharp teeth could not overpower the sounds of anguish and pain tearing from Scout’s lips, his throat, his eyes, and his soul.
“He’s in here.” Sniper said, gesturing at a room with a small window that was currently blocked by blinds. “Currently being seen by his psychiatrist. Think he’s using hypnosis to calm the kid down.”
“That’s a little archaic.” She frowned, crossing her arms. “Aren’t there meds for that already available or something?”
“Yeah, total despair? Remember?” Sniper jerked his head in the direction of the door. “Kid’s too young to try any hard meds, and he’s got an allergy to virtually every pill out in the pharmacy.” He sighed, shaking his head, as Miss Pauling pulled a face. “Sad, I know. Bloody terrible.”
“What did he even do?” she asked, “I can’t imagine what he could have done to deserve this much crap in his life—he’s just a kid!”
“That’s what they said about his mother, too.” Sniper nodded wistfully. “Called ‘er a miracle after she had gotten off and married this lad she was in love with when she was younger.”
Miss Pauling gave him a sceptical glance and he grinned at her.
“It’s not just him, really. It’s his whole family. A few hundred years ago, 1800’s, I think, maybe a little later than that, Scout’s ancestor here thought it would be a great idea to go woo this handsome bloke who shipped himself in from Bulgaria to Venice. Lady was a bloody bohemian, found everything foreign cute, you know how rich people were.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re all still like that now.”
“I’d imagine.” Sniper scoffed. “Bloke turned out French—that’s Spy, by the way—but she didn’t mind. Hit it off right away. Went schmoozing each other like a pair of bloody lovebirds.”
Miss Pauling regarded him with a knowing stare and a little smirk playing on her lips.
“Something tells me that this is a first-hand recollection.” She said, and Sniper waved a finger at her threateningly.
“Don’t push your luck,” he snarled lowly, before pulling away from her. “Anyway, just wait out here. Don’t go in there until they’re done. I’m just going to head to the chapel to talk to someone about something.”
“Something about an escape plan for your vampire boyfriend, no doubt.” She smirked, and her eyes widened slightly at the inexplicable blush that crossed Sniper’s face. Her jaw dropped and she gaped at him, pointing at him with a shaking, bewildered finger. “… No way!”
“Spy and I have nothing between us.” Sniper hurriedly denied, pulling his hat on to cover his eyes, before turning around away from her, slipping his rosary on around his neck. “Now wait here, nurse,” he bit out over his shoulder at her, “And don’t cause trouble.” Without hearing a response from her, he strode away, his robes swishing behind him as people parted out of his way with reverent bows and nods and smiles as if they were welcoming a hero or a saint.
Miss Pauling watched him leave, arms crossed and a grin crossing her face. Well, well. Sniper and Spy? She should have known. Still, it was a little scandalous for a priest to fall in love with a vampire, of all things, but such is the taboo of love—even the most polar opposites attract.
Chuckling to herself, she sat down on one of the chairs next to the door, crossing her legs and tapping her foot on the floor as she waited, doing what she could to appear unrushed or impatient, fiddling with the clipboard Sniper had her carry with her to make her look like she was merely waiting for the doctor inside to finish… whatever it was he was doing in the office.
She began to hum, out of habit, and abruptly stopped when she realised she had been humming the Unisus’s song. She frowned a little at the thought of that creature that brought this about in the first place, when she realised that there was a little girl sitting down next to her, legs swaying in the air and looking up at her with wide eyes.
“O-oh, hi,” she stammered, alarmed that a mere child could sneak up on her like this, as she forced her hand to move and stroke the girl’s messy hair. “What’re you doing here?” she asked as kindly as she could.
“’M next,” the girl replied. “Doctor.” She pointed at the door and Miss Pauling nodded. Must be a good guy, she thought as she cast a glance at the door.
“I see.” She nodded, opening her mouth to speak, when the child spoke up again.
“What were you singing back then? I remember Mama singing that to me when she was still alive.”
Miss Pauling felt something sink inside her chest—the girl had no mother. She smiled at the girl sadly, and leant forward to kiss her forehead as if it was the right thing to do—like it was the natural thing to do. “I was singing a song I learnt a while back. It’s for children who were scared of anything, or when they’re upset.”
She remembered the Administrator scoffing at the song at the times she caught Miss Pauling singing it absently while tracking the Unisus down. When they had both learned what it was for, the woman had brushed it off as a ‘stupid childhood thing kids all forget in time’, but somehow it had stuck to Miss Pauling, despite her intentions.
“Can you teach it to me?” the little girl asked, and Miss Pauling smiled and nodded, setting aside her clipboard before pulling the girl into her lap and hugging her loosely to let her stay comfortable in her arms.
“Sure.” She said, before clearing her throat. “I’m not the best singer around, so I’m sorry in advance.”
The little girl giggled, but she nodded.
“Dearest darling Unisus, where art thee?” she sang gently, and the girl fell silent. There was something about Miss Pauling’s voice, her voice wasn’t the smoothest thing she had heard, but the light husk and that warm roughness in her voice was the warmest she had heard in years. It lulled her into a calmness better than any form of hypnosis she had ever come through. “I’ve got a wish, please do listen to me.”
By the time Medic had finished talking, Engineer’s tea was half-finished and many types of cold. There was shock and confusion boiling in his gut as across him, Death sat back in his seat, taking a sip from his own cup of tea.
“That’s it? That’s the entire reason why this lil’ kid’s cursed to kingdom come?”
“There is hope, mein freund.” Medic replied calmly. “When he reaches 20, he will have a chance to find happiness and live life perfectly fine afterwards. Start his own family, whatever.”
“You don’t get off curses that easily, Medic.”
The man smirked into the rim of his cup slightly. “Well, when he’s gotten his first child, the curse is now passed onto them.”
“How is that any better? The cycle just continues!”
“Life is just like that. A large, bitter circle. My job is only to end it.” Medic shrugged, setting down his cup for Heavy to pour in a little more tea. “Are you satisfied now, Engineer?”
“Satisfied? Maybe. Happy? Nope.” The Unisus scowled, but suddenly a voice rang clearly in the room—
“Dearest darling Unisus, where art thee?”
Engineer blinked, incredulously, and Medic looked mildly surprised. “Isn’t that that woman Spy cursed for trying to kill you?” Medic asked, waving his hand for his scythe to appear in it in wisps of smoke.
“Yeah, but why would she be singing to me for?” Engineer asked, getting only more annoyed—what gall that woman had to call for him at a time like this!
“Let’s take a look, shall we?” Medic asked, slicing his scythe in the air to cut open a tear in the air between them to show Miss Pauling singing to a little girl in her lap as they waited outside a psychiatrist’s office, a gentle—motherly—smile on her face as she sang, fingers gently combing the girl’s hair. Medic’s tiny amused grin widened a little and Engineer’s eyes widened behind his goggles, his wings drooping slightly in surprise.
“Well, well. Look at that.” Medic chuckled, “This is interesting development.”
Engineer could only nod as Miss Pauling finished off the song.
“That’s a very pretty song.” The little girl mumbled sleepily in her arms, and Miss Pauling chuckled.
“It is, isn’t it?” she smiled, helping the girl back into the seat next to her, as the girl spoke up again.
“You’re a new nurse.” She said, and Miss Pauling nodded at her. “Then you don’t know.”
She blinked. “Don’t know what?”
“That doctor.” The child continued to stare at the door. “He’s a very bad man.”
Miss Pauling frowned, turning to look at the door. What on earth was this kid talking about?
“He does very bad things. No one does anything about it.” The girl continued, before wrapping her tiny hand around what it could on Miss Pauling’s wrist. “Will you do that?”
“I’m—I’m not quite sure what you mean.” Miss Pauling replied, before a loud sob and whimper caught her attention and her head whipped around to look at the psychiatrist’s door with wide, shocked eyes.
“Do something about the bad things.” The girl said, before pointing at the door.
Miss Pauling paused. Will she?
No worries m a f riend. ther e i$ never eNougH
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Freak fortress 2 Nightmare AU fan-fiction/ writer: bukkun
Hi! It’s me, I’m finally back! I’m so, so sorry for disappearing suddenly for no reason. I promise I’ll see this through to the end!
Here’s the next part, more explanatory than anything, but I hope you enjoy it. The writing style changed a little, haha. Hope you don’t mind!
Warnings for gore and vore, as usual!
When Miss Pauling woke up, it was to the scent of rosemary underneath a feather-down pillow, smoke from burning candles of a faint juniper scent and the sound of a choir singing, not muffled enough to be intelligible but still enough to tell her it was a little far away from her.
Groaning she rose out of the bed she lay in, rubbing her temples to find herself in a new room, one of stone walls and antique furniture, and in front of her was a barred window. Curious, she approached the window to find that it had the view of the church beneath it—the room she was in was storeys above the church-goers heads (now singing a hymn she didn’t know of—she never went to church) and was right down the middle aisle in front of the altar, where she could see the priest and sextons go about the mass.
How long had she been out? She wasn’t sure, but it was definitely morning. Probably Sunday.
“Bow your heads for the final blessing.”
Miss Pauling’s lip quirked up slightly as she heard Sniper’s voice, the man giving a solemn, rumbling blessing, as the people responded ‘amen’ after he spoke.
She wasn’t quite sure why she crossed herself when Sniper finished off, “… and may the Lord bless you, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, go forth and proclaim the word.”
Shaking her head, Miss Pauling pulled away from the window to head out of the room, trying the door only to find it locked. Clicking her tongue, she sat heavily back down on the bed, frowning.
Now what? She could break the door in (wounds be damned, they’ll patch up) but the service… there were too many people around.
She took a look around the room, and much to her amusement, found a shelf of old, tattered books. They had no titles written on their spines, and the leather that bound them together looked worn, faded and old. Probably years old.
She stood up and hurried to the books, reaching out for them only for a strange sensation to burn at her fingers. She bit back a gasp as she heard the congregation downstairs sing hymns again, and steeled herself once again.
Sniper had these books hexed to protection. They had to be important.
She took a look at her hand, fingertips slightly singed and charred, and shrugged.
She can’t die, she knew that—now, it was time to see what would happen if she got hurt and didn’t die.
“Father? What’s the rush?” one of the young boys asked as the congregation began to shuffle out of the chapel. Sniper paused in the middle of taking the cassock off his shoulders.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he replied dismissively, casting a glance up at the hidden window high above their heads. He had felt the warning shock of his protective spell on his books at the back of his hand since the start of his last blessing, and he knew that Miss Pauling had to be awake. The girl had bloody good timing, he had to credit her, and really, he shouldn’t really be worrying about his books, they burned flesh if anyone tried reaching for them, but Miss Pauling—well. She wasn’t quite ordinary. “I remembered I left a candle on upstairs.”
“Oh, you’d better get that, Father!” the other sexton said, and with a light nod, Sniper handed the cassock to him, before hurrying away to the staircase behind the confessional, and slipping into the hallway Death would use to visit him when he felt like being seen by humans. The hallway was the only way to get to the secret room, and his feet made no sound against the stone flooring (solid rock that absorbed sound vibrations made by a certain material his shoes were made of—vampire innovation, courtesy of Spy) as he ran to the room, where he ushered the wind in front of him to gust the door open—
To reveal Miss Pauling sitting on the bed, the dress she stole from the storehouse bunched up around her knees as she read through one of Sniper’s books, humming slightly.
It wasn’t that a shocking sight as he expected it to be when he had entered the room—at least, not until he realised her clothes were once again speckled with blood and her hand looked like it was… regrowing.
“What did you do.” he stated rather than asked, striding over to her, reaching out to take the book only to have her pull it back, shutting it.
“I borrowed entertainment.” She replied. “I didn’t know that that vampire friend—ah, rather, friend of yours is named Spy.” A smirk crossed her lips. “The 1800’s must have been a lovely time to have lived in.”
“This is none of your business.”
“I think it is, actually, yeah.” Miss Pauling’s tone turned sharp. “I’ve been bitten by this guy; I think it is totally my business.”
Sniper glowered at her and she glared back at him. Eventually, he relented, and sighed, sitting down heavily on his chair across her to face her.
“Alright. What do you want from me?”
“The last time I heard that question I ended up dead on cobblestone floor.” Miss Pauling crossed her arms, tucking the book between her left arm and her chest.
“The last time you didn’t answer that question I had been expecting an answer.”
Miss Pauling rolled her eyes, and lowered her arms. “Okay, I went looking for you because I was wondering if you knew anyone with a curse on them.”
“You honestly think that people think they’re cursed these days?” Sniper asked, raising an eyebrow at her, and she scowled at him.
“Work with me here.” She snarled. “Look, I read through your journal, and based on my experience, I’m pretty sure that getting drained by a vampire curses you.”
“Close, but not quite, mate,” Sniper shook his head. “A vampire draining ya with reason. ‘S not quite the same as ‘I’m hella-bloody-hungry’ drain.”
“Good enough for me. You’re friends with a vampire; know anyone he’s cursed lately?”
“Do you honestly think friends would talk about things like that?” Sniper deadpanned, and Miss Pauling smirked.
“Normal ones, probably not. A vampire hanging out with an exorcist who are still friends even after he bathed him with holy water might.” She replied smugly, and Sniper scowled at her.
“Bloody assassins.” He muttered darkly, and Miss Pauling stood up from where she sat to stand over him.
“Well, Father?” she asked, grinned. “Know anyone?”
Sniper glowered at her in retaliation for a moment, before sighing and nodding.
“I know a kid. But if we run into Spy, you’re telling him that you got off on a lucky guess with this kid, got it?”
Miss Pauling paused for a moment, itching to ask him why, but she stopped when she saw a strange look in Sniper’s eyes—
She knew that look. She was too aware of that look.
“Got it.” She replied instead of her burning why, and held her hand out for him to shake. He took it, her hand mousy compared to his large, calloused ones as they shook firmly.
“Brilliant. I think he should be at the hospital right now.” Sniper stood up and eyed Miss Pauling’s bloodied clothes. “What do you think about a new dress?”
“Bloody hell. You’d think after hundreds of years being alive something interestin’ would happen.” Demoman managed past the bone of the groaning damned between his teeth, chewing thoughtfully and eliciting horrifying shrieks as rotting-healing sinew and muscle tore and broke. “Worst thing to happen lately is Engie finding our haunting spot.”
“A-ffir-ma-tive!” Soldier barked, amusing himself with his own entertainment, slamming his shovel down onto the heads emerging from the courtyard’s earth in every direction, nonplussed as heads cracked with a sickening sound, like a strange game of whack-a-mole. Not too far away, Pyro was following his example with its own ways, a broken-up axe its makeshift hammer against heads, cleaving them into two, only for them to snap back together seamlessly, dissolving into shrill, pained screams past spliced lips and tongues.
Heavy was standing by himself at the corner of the courtyard, quietly watching them, still frowning over Medic’s sudden coughing earlier, mulling over the scene in his head and mentally berating himself on making such a stupid mistake.
Still, it would take a lot more to bother Death, it would seem, as Medic emerged from billowing smoke, looking no worse for wear, save, perhaps, the scowl on his face.
“It seems Spy is nonplussed over this entire matter.” He spoke up, Archimedes flying to him and perching on his shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about, he says. The curse wouldn’t leave the boy no matter what Engineer does.”
“Does that mean we can come back to haunting him?” Demoman asked, dropping the arm in his mouth, grinning widely.
“Ja, of course.” Medic nodded slowly. “Provided, though, that Engineer does not see you.”
Pyro gave him a thumbs-up, grinning.
“It being ‘easy’, is relative, Pyro.” Medic spoke up, and he suddenly pursed his lips at the emergence of a beam of light right in front of him. “He’s here.”
There was nothing elegant or soft in Engineer’s arrival now in the Underworld, so unlike his usual behaviour around children or his friends.
“Medic! What’s going on here?” he was yelling as his feet heavily landed on the earth, causing little grass blades and flowers to sprout almost instantly around them. “Demo and Solly and Pyro an’…” he fell silent, though, when he turned around to see the beings in question. A frown crossed his face, and he turned to stride over to them. “Now, fellas, see here…”
“Engineer, calm.” Medic spoke up, his voice reverberating loudly even in the open space they stood in, spooking away the crows that had gathered near them to watch. Heavy began to approach them, concern on his face because of the sudden noise and racket.
“Medic! These guys were torturing a child! A lil’ kid, just 10 years old!”
“Appealing to my empathy is futile.” Medic replied simply, much to Engineer’s dismay, “But they have been only following what is natural.”
“What is natural about giving a little kid nightmares?” Engineer yelled, still mild-mannered, but it was strong enough to get his thoughts across.
“Engineer. The child is cursed.”
“That’s what they’ve been telling me! And nothing else!” Engineer crossed his arms. “What is wrong with little Scout?”
Medic cast a glance at Heavy’s direction, and the corpse-man shrugged.
“If you insist.” He sighed. “Follow Heavy to my sitting-room. I’ll explain myself there.”
Engineer gave him a sceptical glance, and Medic only stared back at him coolly.
“Alright, fine.” He sighed. “I’m expecting the whole truth, hear?”
“Jawohl.” Medic nodded at him, before letting Heavy usher the Unisus away into his home, a path of sprightly green grass and flowers following them in the wake of Engineer’s footsteps. He turned his attention back to the other three beings, all giving him a look of nervous anticipation.
He cast a glance over the three of them, before slowly smirking, the look of nervousness disappearing from their faces as realisation dawned on them.
“Scout is currently seeing his psychiatrist. The usual. Spy is already there; and I am very sure he won’t mind some company.”
Soldier gave him a salute.
“Sir, yes, sir! Heading right away, sir!” he snickered, before fading away in loud, hysterical laughter, just as Demoman gave him a thankful nod, throwing back his head in a howl that shook the wind around them, before jumping high, high into the sky, out of sight.
Pyro waved him goodbye amiably, before getting back on its motorbike and revving the engine. With a muffled voice, it bade Medic goodbye, before speeding away in a flurry of fire and wind, tires screaming and engines howling.
Left alone in still silence, Medic smiled to himself.
“Let what little that is sacred stay so for all of you.” He murmured, the crow on his shoulder nuzzling him affectionately, before he left the courtyard in a cloud of smoke.
My maskless pyro oc
hi sorry i hope you don’t mind but your design was so breath-taking i had to draw fanart of it!
WOW!!! thank you so much!!! i love it ;________:!!!!!!
omg he(she) is so cute!! I hope your OC be an official pyro’s face!!!
hey um….I know this is so wrong but any idea about abusing medic in highschool au?
we know sniper and spy so much adore our lil medick but can’t come up with the idea so plz give me some