"DANG FLAM IT"
The words echoed throughout the RED Base. The Control Points were taken and they were defenceless. Helpless. Humiliated. At the mercy of their BLU enemies. Needless to say, they were fucked up. But that's just the beginning.
The Sniper drove past a secluded suburban street, quietly and calmly admiring the landscape. The groans of a certain aggravated Texan were making it difficult for him not to crash his truck in a suicide attempt. But he thought about it and thought "Hang on, he doesn't piss me off THAT much". He simply dropped the Engineer at the front of his house and drove off at 390 miles above the speed limit.
"Thanks Snipe, same time tomorrow! We're still on for golfing right? We really need some defence next time!"
The morphine had kicked in. But little did he know he struck a goldmine. The first goldmine since he discovered a new way of creating hats without killing VALVe employees. He opened the door and stumbled a bit, taking care not to set off the loaded shotgun stored within an intimate area. He walked to the fridge to get himself some Red Streak but the damn unicorn wouldn't stop fucking staring so he ran like hell into the living room. The drugged Engineer dropped onto his couch, oblivious to the fact he had just sat in a corpse's crotch.
"Greetings Mr. Conagher"
"WHO THE WHAT THE FU-"
The voice was emanating from the corpse, a small rectangular box protruding from his organs . A purple-clad old woman appeared on it.
"I would like to thank you for two things"
"And what would those be Ma'am?"
"Well one, for helping me find out that organs aren't the best place to store televisions on messagers and two, for designing the new cutting edge piece of technological defence"
"What are you barkin' about?"
"My… associates had access to your grandfathers blueprints once. Passed down to your father and now you. You don't know the half of it, there are hundreds of documents buried with him. I want you to build me a death machine"
"And what if I don't?"
"I'll incinerate you with a combusting lemon"
"….huh?"
"Never mind. Behind this screen is a folded up copy of the design specifications. Minor modifications will be needed to the design to get it in full working order and without a few bugs but I doubt that you would have a problem with that after your experiences with mind-altering elements. Too bad your grandfather didn't have the chance before he passed. To be fair, it was a stupid idea to try to shoot rockets at himself to jump. I saw the body. Mangled. Imbecile"
The Engineer had 11 Phds and he had no fucking idea what to do
"Well… if it'll shut you up a guess we got a deal"
"Very well. Remember Mr. Conagher, we know where you live. We know everything. And remember this: You're under the one thing worse than hell itself. CONTRACT!"
Those words struck him hard. He was under contract once. He hated it.
"Oh and if you could build a Healing/Dispension Device that would be fantastic. Get that brief and build me a death machine"
The box blinked off. The Engie had no fucking idea what was happening but that was mostly the morphine. If he wasn't drugged he might have understood that. But then he thought to himself "Hmm…. That's a good idea"
Dustbowl. A simple task. Defend a gigantic fucking missile. Seems easy enough. But BLU always wins. They came roaring through. 3 Spies. They weren't even cloaked. They didn't need cloaking, they'd just run and cap it and RED would be defenceless. But their looks of smugness quickly turned to a look of "Oh fuck" as they saw it. And it saw them. A few hundred rockets and a few million bullets along with a Heavy-Medic Uber secured the victory. They were pushed back and into respawn. They were spawncamped. Needless to say, they were fucked up. The end.