9:10 am, mandatory excursion.

[therealpm]

*Sitting in the back of a vehicle with blacked out windows, huddled up once more in a hoodie far too broad for him, Peter looks across at Alastair and smirks.  Alastair thinks they're going for the equivalent of a jog around the park, and Peter has been careful not to indicate otherwise.  Today is going to be horrible, but watching Alastair slowly lose the will to live is going to make it utterly worth it.*

Comments

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*The adrenaline boost of catching up is beginning to wear off and his legs are starting to ache in earnest now.
Peter slows down a little to allow Campbell to draw ahead again- there's a set of ponds he'd rather the other man sounded out the depth of as a step either way could be the difference between waist deep and a dunking. He tries to recall whether they come immediately after the slope, or if that's the first crawling under wire section, but his memory of that part of the course seems to be mostly mud, pain and shouting.

Speaking of which... the vehicle containing Paddy, John and Jane has pulled up in the middle of the valley and Paddy is being vocally unhappy. Apparently the bastard has some sixth sense that lets him know when a person is trying to be sensible about pacing things, rather than tiredly shamble-sprinting for their life. Well let him disapprove, Peter's just going to keep on-

...that was a growl, thatwasagrowl, thatwasa-

Peter finds himself involuntarily making the eighth ascent rather faster than he had intended, ending up fewer than 20 m behind Campbell.*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*Alastair doesn't appreciate the shouting coming from Paddy's vehicle at the bottom of the valley, even if most of it does seem to be directed at Peter. In normal circumstances he would holler back, but right now that's out of the question, so he merely thinks his retaliation very forcefully in the hope it will be picked up telepathically.

After a short period of relative safety, Peter is definitely gaining on him again. They're about three-quarters of the way through this stretch, now, but it could be a hundred miles as far as Alastair's concerned. His legs are killing him, and his knees... he'd rather not think about his knees. He stumbles over a stray tree root and nearly repeats it in his desperation not to let it be the slip which puts him behind Peter.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*They continue this way, with Peter dropping back a little on the upper half of the slope, only to catch up again on the bottom half. Eventually it's finished and they stumble onto flat(ter) ground. Alastair, frankly, looks dead, and Peter gives him a shove and a growl to get him moving again. He wouldn't put it past Paddy to force him to carry his fellow spin doctor, should Campbell give up the fight. Comradeship or similar guff.

They make it through the flooded pits. Peter's legs have seized up from the cold water and Cambell doesn't look any better. From the position of the sun and length of the course they've covered, Peter reckons it must be past noon. His stomach agrees, which Peter, through the thudding haze, thinks is a bit odd. Last time he felt far too tired and sick to be hungry. He chalks it up to being more experienced at this sort of thing and keeps plodding along, a steady 10 m behind Campbell.*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*As he stumbles from the end of the last descent, Alastair feels Peter's breath on his neck and a firm hand between his shoulder blades, pushing him forwards when what he needs most is a rest. Alastair snarls right back, trying to throw in a 'fuck off' for good measure, but ends up merely gasping in pain.

By the time they've made it through the ponds that some sadistic wanker thought it would be a good idea to dig here, Alastair's clothes are mostly waterlogged and he has a strong urge to drop off the face of the earth. Instead, it is inclined to swallow him up; ahead he can see circular openings beckoning, leading deep into the side of the hill.

Bracing himself, Alastair tells himself he's survived worse (has he? He can hardly remember his name at this point, never mind how and why he ended up here) before plunging himself into the nearest tunnel. It's dark, but he doesn't need to see to know that he's now on all fours in at least three inches of freezing water, not that it makes much difference any more. Also the opening is much narrower than it looks, and it's quite a squeeze trying to crawl along without getting stuck. He wouldn't be surprised if this tunnel turns out to be endless, or deposits him on the other side of the world. If he can make it out without hearing Peter's low growl behind him, that's enough to be going on with.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*'Alastair looks like he's about to collapse,' Peter thinks grimly. He dives down the hole after the other man, wriggling forward (he has never been so pleased to be the smaller of the two in his life) until he can grab the other's ankle. He gets a kick that misses his head by inches, but gropes forward again, hissing.*

Alastair, stop.

*Once Alastair is still, he continues.*

They can't go through the wood, they have to drive around it to get alongside where the tunnels come out and it'll take them a little while. We can probably afford to wait two minutes or so to catch our breath.

*He pauses, waiting for Alastair to give some indication of a decision.*

Come on, we're nearly half way there. Just take a break, alright?

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*When Peter grabs his ankle, Alastair nearly jumps out of his skin. Once it's clear that Peter isn't just trying to irritate him, he falls still and listens.*

... D'you think it'd be okay?

Yeah, all right, then. I am starting to get a little bit worn out now. What, shall we stop and have our coffee break in the dark flooded underground drinking straw? I don't know if I can reverse.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

...well Paddy's going to be unimpressed, but I doubt he was ever going to be otherwise.

Unless you know of anywhere more hidden from the prying eyes of our handlers...

*Peter says the last two words with a certain deliberation.*

...then yes.

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*Alastair frowns, but he may as well not have bothered because Peter can't see it.*

All right, then, the drinking straw it is.

*He falls silent for a while, enjoying the blissful stillness as icy water seeps into his skin.*

Well. This is nice.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Pity for you then, that it's over so soon. Come on.

*He gives Alastair a shove, then follows it up with another growl when Campbell fails to move fast enough.*

Move.

*They exit the tunnel in fairly short order, and are on their way jogging again by the time Paddy et al. drive up. Paddy looks sceptical, but Peter just jogs along, keeping a careful 10 m behind the man as they scale more ditches, leap onto floating bales to cross a pond, clib over several walls and at last arrive at a giant A-frame.

Peter's stomach is growling loudly by now. He checks to see if any of the others have noticed, then follows Campbell up the series of netting and giant logs that comprise the A-frame.*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*Alastair regards the apparatus in front of him with weary hatred. Its only redeeming feature is that it at least looks like hell to scale - the worst obstacles so far have been the deceptively simple-looking ones. At least here no attempt has been made to lull him into a false sense of security.

He latches his hand into the netting some feet above eye level and swings both his feet up onto the lowest rung. After a couple more wobbly movements, he glances down at Peter, who is just behind him and looking around warily.*

Come on, Peter, shift your arse. Last one to the top's a closet Tory.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter narrows his eyes. He's not as tired as he was last time he did this, but he's still shattered and at a disadvantage with a shorter reach.

He puts on a burst of speed until his shoulder is level with Campbell's ankle, then tugs, hard. Campbell drops off a beam, tangling himself in the netting and Peter speeds up and past to reach the top first.

He sits on the cross beam, catching his breath and looking at the rest of the course to go. The sun is definitely lower than when they first started. He scratches an arm, idly, and is surprised when his fingertips come back bloody. Peter makes a mental note to be more careful when practicing the transformation- clearly he'd forgotton to shift back fully when he'd been practicing earlier.

Below him, Alastair has managed to untangle himself and is rapidly climbing the frame with a thunderous expression. Peter decides to get out of the way and hops off the top beam, beginning the descent down the other side to ground level.*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

Bastard - !

*Alastair feels his grip on the beam give way, and he drops. One foot goes straight through the netting, followed by his entire shin, at which point he's managed to wrap both his arms into the ropes. He comes to a halt with a jerk. It takes him a minute to extract himself and regain his footing, by which time Peter is already sitting at the summit.

It would be nice to push him off, but he's turned tail and fled down the other side by the time Alastair nears the top beam. He slithers over it and glares down at the top of Peter's head.*

Don't think you're getting away with that, you cheating little shit!

*He begins the descent. He moves more clumsily now that he's having to lead with his feet, but it's basically easier to come down that it was to go up. Soon they're almost level.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Tory!

*Peter drops to the ground and sprints with an energy he didn't think he possessed, the feeling of being dragged by the collar and slammed into the wards burning in the back of his brain. Soon he has put a hundred or so metres between the two of them and is standing on the edge of the pond that contains the underwater tunnel.

He hesitates. The sprinting and time out of water has warmed him up a bit and the pond looks wickedly cold. On the other hand, Alastair's sure to push him in and hold him under (probably non-fatally, but Peter's always worried Campbell might get carried away) if he doesn't move now. Peter steps forward and takes the plunge.

It's freezing.

He bobs back to the surface and gasps for air. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, but he manages to swim away before Campbell rounds the last corner and plunges in after him.

The tunnel itself is submerged beneath a wooden raft-type thing, which Peter swims, or rather flails, towards as fast as possible. Swimming is not his strong point, and by the sound of it, Campbell's catching up.*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*Up ahead, Alastair hears a big splash. Man-sized. He skids around a corner and is confronted with a pond, in which Peter is flailing about rather desperately. Alastair jumps in after him without a second thought and regrets it as his breath, already ragged from the chase, seems to freeze in his lungs. Stunned and freezing, he sprays out a mouthful of green water and does his best to propel himself after Peter.

At last he manages to catch hold of a frantically kicking ankle and hauls Peter in, taking him by the front of his hoodie and forcing him - not without a lot of vigorous struggles - down beneath the surface.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter kicks downwards, but the water is too deep and he can't get a foothold. He panics- his lungs burning and scrabbles at the arms holding him down, trying to climb his way back to the surface. In the distance he can hear shouting, muffled by the water.*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

If you ever pull something like that again, you total cunt, I will not hesitate to keep you under! Why can't you just fucking -

*Is it his imagination, or are the nails clawing helplessly at his arms just a bit too sharp?*

Right, you've learnt your lesson. Up you come.

*He releases Peter and offers his arms as support. As Peter struggles back towards the surface, Alastair grabs his chin and pushes it straight up to the sky, thrusting his nose and mouth into the atmosphere.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Choking and spluttering, Peter drags in a few deep breaths before shoving Alastair's hand away and paddling over to the raft. He leans on it, hacking up the pondwater that went up his nose*

You wanker, you could have killed me.

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*Alastair raises his eyebrows and follows Peter to lean on the raft, lifting as much of his body as he can up out of the freezing water.*

Yes, I could. Aren't you glad that I didn't?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter raises one eyebrow in disdain at Alastair's comment.*

And I will remind you of that comment, whenever you feel the need to remind me of a certain night in Regent's Park.

*Taking a deep breath and not waiting for Alastair's response, he ducks himself under the raft and kicks out as hard as he can. The tunnel is only 3 m long or so, but the water is icy and after his recent brush with Alastair, Peter does not like bing submerged.


He manages to reach the end of the large pipe and grasps it, hauling himself through, then kicking at the edge of the raft to propel himself as far away as possible. The pond is shallower here, after a little more kicking, the water becomes shallow enough for him to touch the bottom and walk as fast as he can to the edge.

John looks concerned, Paddy merely thoughtful, and Jane is probably drawing a bead on him from some nearby bush or tree as he can't see her. He deliberately ignores all of them and instead jogs along the lake's edge. The next bit of the track is virtually obstacle free, merely a rough and narow sheep trail bounded by heathr, and Peter takes the welcome ooprtunity to put some distance between himself and Campbell.*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

Hey, you trying to eat me for supper was completely different!

*But Peter has already submerged himself and swum off down the tunnel. Alastair looks down apprehensively at the little stream of bubbles which surfaces behind him, then takes a deep breath and tries to follow.

The water is dark and thick with dirt, and after a few seconds of feeling around the rim of the tunnel in near-blindness, Alastair resurfaces, coughing. Peter has already emerged on the other side. With renewed determination, Alastair plunges downwards and into the tunnel.

When at last he drags himself from the pond, his clothes weigh about a ton and his skin is stinging from the cold. He staggers along the trail. Peter has pulled far ahead and there's no way Alastair will catch up in straightforward conditions like these. He'll just have to hope there's an obstacle coming up that will play to his strengths (whatever they are) or Peter's weaknesses (titchyness, general uselessness).*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*He jogs down into the next valley, gazing with resigned determination at the next obstacle: a series of large concrete pipes, a metre and a half in diameter, which need to be clambered over. Their smooth surfaces provide no handholds and Peter's far too tired by now to try and jump. Instead he flings as much of his upper body over the top as he can, wriggles one leg round and squirms until most of him is over the crest and he can let gravity take him down the other side.

'Only five more to go...'

On the plus side, once he's done this it's just a 'short' run to the final obstacle- a muddy cliff to be ascended by rope on one side and descended by either an improvised zipwire or two level slack rope bridge in the other. The descent is over a lake. Useful, as slack ropes are rather difficult to balance on. Peter had managed 6 steps last time before falling.*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*Alastair reaches the first pipe just as Peter makes it past the last. He grits his teeth and jumps, bracing both feet on the smooth concrete and hauling himself up and over.

This process is back-breakingly painful by the time Alastair repeats it for the last time, but he can at least see Peter up ahead now, running along on the track ahead. Alastair follows his lead and resigns himself to the crushing probability that the next obstacle has something to do with the cliff face looming into view.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter checks over his shoulder. Alastair has gained quite a bit of ground. Damn it.

He almost flings himself onto the rope, drawing himself up arm over arm, then sinking his fingers into the top of the bank and scrambling onto the turf.

The descent is going to be trickier- his arms can't bear his whole weight and he hasn't got the balance for the slack rope. Instead, he grabs onto the overhead rope and jumps so that his legs grip onto it as well. Drawing himself along it isn't the fastest method and it's probably wearing through the back of the knees of his trousers, but it's a lot faster than his swimming. In the distance, he can see the vehicle pull up at the finish.

'So close.'*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*Alastair clutches the rope uncertainly. Peter, who's just scampered out of sight again, made it look - not easy, but easier than Alastair imagines it's going to be. He tries walking his feet up the bank but it's pure wet mud and he slips down again in seconds.

Climbing the rope properly takes three attempts, and Alastair's hands are raw by the end of it. He crawls onto the turf and looks out at the final stretch. Peter is dangling from the top rope like a caterpillar, making slow but steady progress.

Alastair tries to copy this technique, grunting as his first ankle hooks onto the rope, but falls back down fairly quickly. He glares at the lower rope, swaying and jiggling in the rain. There's only one thing for it. Before he's taken his first two steps, it pitches, threatening to land him in the lake below. He shouts and just manages to hang onto the top rope.*

Fuck everything.

*He takes another tiny step, trying not to look down at the lake.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter's knuckles go white as the rope bounces and he curses Campbell under his breath. Moving more cautiously now as the rope quivers, he inches towards the end and evntually drops his feet onto solid ground.

His legs ache, especially where they've been bearing his weight on the rope and his arms feel like lead weights, but it's 200 m to the finish and Peter can already taste victory. Too tired to smirk, but definitely grinning inwardly, he runs the last section before collapsing against the bonnet of the vehicle.*