verb
1. continue to exist, especially after other similar or related people or things have ceased to exist.
The nine deadliest men in the world sat around the smoldering ashes of a makeshift fire-pit, not saying a word. On any side of them, evergreens sprung up for miles. Bilious smoke rose in the distance, thick and black, and the snowfall, which had seemed oppressive before, had only worsened since they'd settled. All energy they had left—it wasn't much, believe me—went in to fending off the cold.
Not one man among them was brave enough to make eye contact with another for fear it might invite conversation.
Because, you see, only hours before they gathered here, these men had been enemies. Only hours before had "nine" been "eighteen", and only hours before had that smoke in the distance been so suffocating close.
"Intruder alert," The familiar (and decidedly crotchety) voice croaked through the PA, "Unidentified hostile."
The RED Team, stationed out in what Spy had aptly named "Dante's Hell" for its brisk climate and jagged horizon, all looked up towards the speaker as if it were going to continue. They all knew such announcements were pre-recorded and played automatically when the cameras spotted a member of the opposing BLU team, but never before had it spluttered 'unidentified hostile'.
Dell, who'd been interrupted in the middle of putting a live wire to rest, looked towards Pyro in a moment of confusion. It was a silent question that he should have known better than to ask; out of all of them, Pyro was the least likely to know what was going on.
"Alright, partner," Dell stood, picking up his wrench and one of his compact, pre-built sentries, "Gear up."
Pyro, as you may well know, had never had a complete view of reality. Maybe they did at one point or another, years ago, but all the flames and asbestos had choked it away. What was left could be called an endearing personality, or, if you were a particular engineer who worked for Mann. Co's Reliable Excavation and Demolition department, a good friend.
The two of them left the poorly-lit workshop behind, Pyro leading their two-person promenade with a skip in their step and a flare gun in hand.
"Now we don't know what we're dealing with here," Dell reasoned, voicing his thoughts for Pyro's benefit, "All we know for sure is it isn't a BLU. Might be some local wild-life that wandered in; heck, that's probably what's going on." He said it with the barest hint of a smile, keeping any and all pre-firefight jitters well away.
A clang from farther down the hall shot the smile down and caused them both to freeze in their tracks. Dell slung the sentry down, ready to deploy it; "If this is some raccoon, I'm g—"
It was Scout who turned the corner, keeping a jog. He nearly shot at Engineer, and Pyro nearly lit him up, and then the brief moment of tension vanished. "Damn, boy. Slow down. Where's the fire?"
"What, you miss the memo?" Scout asked, barely slowing down, "We got an intruder. Doc says the boiler in the basement's goin' nuts, he's thinkin' they might be related."
"Aw, hell." Dell tipped his hat forward, looking back towards his workshop, "Of all times for the thing to… I'll get on it."
"I gotcha' back," Scout mock-saluted, running on ahead. Engineer was hot on his heels, struggling to keep up, carry his gear, and keep his hat on all at the same time. Pyro brought up the rear, as jovial as ever.
The base had three floors; the ground floor, which consisted of their quarters, storage, a rec room, and what might have qualified as a mess hall. Medic's quarters doubled as the infirmary (if it could be called that), and the whole place was relatively livable. The upper floor served as an open-air crow's nest, and any and all gear that would help them spot enemies in this hellish climate was stored up that way. On the lowest basement floor, there was Dell's workshop, pipelines, and power cables. At the center of it all was a massive boiler that not only helped power their base but the nearby mine shafts. That was where the three of them were headed.
Dell had been keeping up fairly well until the telling vwhoom of the failing lights overhead. "They're into the power cables," Dell hissed, the idea that a particularly tenacious raccoon was to blame still playing in the back of his mid, "God da—"
"Alert: Respawn offline."
"Damnit," Dell finished, looking up at where he knew the speaker was; apparently, the Administrator had wired new equipment to some other power source. Maybe there was a generator somewhere else in the facility—
"Ay, hard hat, you okay back there?" It was Scout that brought him back to the situation at hand, "Looks like we gotta' be real careful. Can't do nothin' that the Doc can't fix on his own."
Pyro, in light of the dark, retrieved one of the many boxes of matches they carried on their person at almost all times. A struck match didn't do much to illuminate the path ahead, but it was certainly better than being in total darkness.
Another flame was struck farther down the hall; Scout's lighter, if Dell had to guess. He didn't know what it was about the way the flame's light spread, but something seemed wrong. Off, even. Almost like his shadow was against a wall that shouldn't have been there at all.
Dell understood the situation a half second too late. A gun was fired, and it snuffed the light out at the other end of the hall.
Pyro was quick to fire two flares over that way, less to burn the enemy and more so they could see. Dell had set his gear down, and the sentry was deploying at an agonizingly slow rate.
What stood at the other end of the hall was like no machine Dell had ever seen before. Meticulous articulation, designed by what had to be a man of equal or greater skill to himself, a robot that moved like a man. Had the situation been less dire, he would have loved to investigate.
But the situation was that dire, and so he let the Sentry fire.
The bullets ricocheted off to either side when they made contact, and when the bot realized what he was facing, it apparently deemed it unimportant and stepped back inside what Dell knew to be the boiler room.
Scout, by the light of the two flares, was lying face-down on the tile. His back was peppered with red—from what Dell could deduce in the low light, it looked like he'd been shot with his own gun of choice.
Pyro rushed forward as Dell got his pistol out, but a low rumble made them both lose their footing.
"… The boiler's going to blow." Dell merely muttered it to himself, turning tail reluctantly, "Let's g—"
Before he could get far, the whole room lit up white. The blast was hot—boiling hot—and it shattered the wall between Dell and the initial explosion. The bot—and it's three opponents—went up in smoke.
Thank you for reading this brief preview of To Remain.
I appreciate reviews and comments, and they really motivate me to continue to write- even if it's just a word or two, reviews really make my day!
Also, just to be clear; most chapters after this will be at least three times this length if not longer. I'm publishing this snippet now to see how interested people are in the concept.
Thank you!