"Teleporter going up!" the Engineer had called out as his beady eyes watched the fight unfold behind a pair of dark goggles.
It was a brutal one, unsurprising considering that 2fort was notable for its vicious number of slain bodies piling up around the bridge. Gunfire, explosions and flames exerted chaos throughout the area, showering it with clusters of slaughtered bodies all colored either blue or red and the cascade of split blood littering them. Bullets bounced off terrain, pierced hard reddish wood and light blue concrete and slammed into the body parts of the feeble and the wretched. All these men being sent to their deaths only to not fully die once killed within this battlefield due to the respawn system. It sounded like a game, but to the Engineer and his other team mates it was not one in the slightest; death was painful and having to relive your own life only to die again and again in various ways was pure agony. Normal humans would have gone insane for days if they were placed in a very similar situation to this. Here everyone was determined to stay alive. Needless to say it was absolutely chaotic and the Red Engineer was satisfied that he was supposed to be stationed within his team's intelligence room where safety was pretty much guaranteed for him unless all else fails.
His role was to guard the intelligence, an object both team members required in order to emerge victorious. But victory was all it had promised; none of them were given any permission to view its contents. Many had pondered about what awaited them if it was ever opened and were curious to know why the Administrator was so willing to use it for the Capture the Flag matches. However no one was brave enough to actually open it because it was told that doing so would prompt the CEO of Mann. Co to pay a little visit, something both teams expressed a rational fear of. Whether it was one of the Administrator's more absurd threats, the Engineer could not tell. He just wanted to make sure he and his team members were on Saxton Hale's good side for the rest of their career. At least victory enabled them to gain a pay rise and a generous discount at the local canteen. Anything was better than getting pummeled to a gory and unrecognizable pulp by a buffed and testosterone pumped hippy-hater.
The Engineer rushed back to the intelligence room to check on his sentry. There it was, a level 3 machine made out of metal from the remnants of ammo and weaponry. Its beeping noises and the steady movement of its double barrel machine guns were enough to signify it was still functioning, so much so that it could very well be considered a living creature. A creature that could not walk and that its sole purpose in life were to serve under the supreme command of its creator but nevertheless it showed clear signs of life. The metallic stand it was placed on was almost like its prison, its only purpose to keep the sentry gun in place. But the Sentry did not seem to care for its mind was built on one principle and that was to help defend the Red Team and its master, the Engineer. The Engineer treasured his sentry more so than his dispenser and teleporters to the point he would often be found tinkering with it than taking part in the actual battle. It was the one he found to be the most human rather than a simple manmade machine. Many of his teammates claimed that the only times they saw him shoot his shotgun or pistol was when his sentry was in clear danger of enemy fire. When spies were around he just applied a heavy hit from his wrench to their heads before destroying the sappers that were disabling and damaging his sentries.
The teleporter soon lit up, a bluish circle hovering above a cluster of scraps all joined together to make one pile. It was now possible to summon the other team members to the sewers of the Blu base, where Pyro was stationed at, guarding the entity with patience from enemy units and team members that happened to be spies in disguise.
After marveling his creation as he had always done. He raised his communicator to his mouth. "Alright fellas, the teleporter is up!" he exclaimed.
"Loud and clear soldier!" the Red Soldier's voice emitted from the communicator. "Come on you lazy scoundrels, we are heading for the intelligence chamber!"
The Engineer beamed as the sounds of running footsteps and the shouts and excited cries from the other team members were made audible through the communicator. They rushed inside from the respawn rooms, dashing into the corridor near the intelligence room from two adjacent entrances. The Scout was the first to arrive, his movement almost comparable to that of a cheetah as he skidded to a halt in front of the Engineer's sentry, an inch away from knocking it over. His speed justified his demeanor; he spoke fast, he was quick tempered at times and he was easy to annoy. He briskly jumped to an upright position, his arms folded against the chest of his lithe body. The Demoman then arrived behind him, his movement straight but slightly on the tipsy side too, his grenade launcher clutched within his hands and a bottle to which he named 'Scrumpy' attached to a large holster against his right thigh. As he stopped, he pulled out the bottle with ease and drank from it in huge chugs before letting out a belch that brought a disgusted frown upon the scout's youthful face. The sniper was the next to enter, his hat perched on his head like a gunslinger from the West, his sniper rifle scanning for any enemy forces that could be sneaking up on them. The Spy arrived soon after, but instead of merely running in he had appeared out of nowhere in front of the Sniper, surprising him and nearly forcing him to pull the trigger of his beloved weapon. The Heavy moved in next, his lumbering form towering over the other members of the team as he waddled in like a hulking penguin the size of a refrigerator. To the others surprise, the Medic was not behind him.
"Heavy where in tarnations is Medic?" the Engineer asked, curiosity plaguing his mind. The Heavy almost went nowhere without the German born doctor by his side. The two were the truest of companions; they stuck together like brothers within the battlefield, the Heavy doing most of the hard work with the Medic providing the necessary support. The Engineer and his teammates understood the importance of this loyalty and companionship as the ubercharge effect emitted from Medic's medigun was essential to clearing a base full of Blu team members. They relied on it as much as they relied on the Engineer's inventions.
"Medic is helping Soldier," the Heavy replied, his expression suddenly turning into concern for his dear friend. "Enemy Demoman corner him with bottle. Medic have no chance but to Ubercharge him. Other little Blu men come, but Medic tell me to go to you."
"Now that is very strange," the Spy said, dumping is cigarette into a dustbin before selecting another from his disguise kit. "The Medic is often found to be caring for this lumbering sack of meat. However it feels as though he has taken a liking to the tin man instead." He snickered sinisterly at the sound of those words, earning livid looks from his other team members, especially the Heavy who seemed to be willing his clasp him by the throat and throttle him.
"Seems pretty stupid to me," the Sniper said. "I mean come on. Why would you let the heavy go? He'll be an asset if you're healing that ole soldier. Guess Doc is too jaded by all that Nazi stuff that he believes he doesn't need protection. What an idiot."
"Ok we have to finish this match as quickly as possible," the Scout explained with desperation. "So we all have to step through this thingamajig now!"
The Engineer raised his hand, urgently attempting to correct the slim sprinter that it was a Teleporter, but the Scout had already stepped on to the Teleportation pad, his body evaporating in blinding flash of crimson. The Spy went next, then the Demoman and then the Sniper, who approached it with caution as though it were a wild animal than a benefit to the team. The Heavy was the last to go, casting one final sadden look at the room before disappearing.
The Engineer sighed deeply as strode over to build a dispenser. The Heavy needed one if there was no Medic to look after him anyways. Suddenly he heard footsteps travelling down the steps leading to the corridor. The Medic, followed closely by the Soldier rushed into the Intelligence room. The Soldier had his back turned to the Medic, moving backwards while pumping bullets from his shotgun into an enemy Demoman who has decided that it was a good idea to go melee considering that a Blu Medic was behind him with his medigun sprouting bluish energy into his veins. After a perceptible click from his shotgun, the Soldier briskly dropped it and equipped his shovel. He summoned a battle cry and moved towards the Demoman. The Red Medic took notice and began healing him with his own specific tool. The Engineer knew that the battle needed to be finished as soon as possible, so he abandoned his newly designed Dispenser. He whipped out a pistol and shot at the enemy medic, the bullet slamming into his skull, temporary killing him and transporting him back to the respawn room back at his base. The Demoman had noticed this and turned around to flee, but was stopped as the Soldier smashed his shovel against the base of his neck, injuring him and rendering him unconscious. The enemy's life was soon ended by a hail of syringes from the Medic.
"Right, onwards to the teleporter men!" the Soldier cried, heading for the device.
All of a sudden an explosion sound emitted from the teleporter and it instantly collapsed in a hunk of metal and scrap. The holographic circular pad that accompanied the topmost section of it disappeared, leaving behind sparks on the ground almost as a reminder of its unfortunate death. A miniature piece of scrap slid towards the Engineer coming to a halt at the edge of his feet. He picked it up, shocked and sadden by the loss of an invention he had committed all of his talents into making.
Could have been worse, he thought. Could have been my sentry instead.
The Soldier punched the wall in anguish; his face contorted with rage at the thought of yet another loss for the team. The Medic was calmer, instead deciding to comfort the Engineer by placing a hand on his shoulder. A minute had passed and the Medic decided to now talk with the Soldier.
"Soldier," he said. "It is ok. The teleporter may be destroyed but the other team members are on the other side already. They still have a chance to win."
"That might be easy for you to say," the Soldier fumed. "But you are not there with the Heavy. How do you expect the Heavy, our hope for a glorious victory that we had not experienced in a long time, to survive out there without you tending to his wounds! Why, in the name of Uncle Sam's pants, he might easily be killed by a Spy or even a Sniper! Do not forget Doctor, but this is a Sudden Death match, its time extended to 30 minutes only because of the Administrators generosity! We might very well be the only ones left!"
But the Medic was not going to accept it. "Heavy is a strong person, a fool yes but tough nonetheless. And he has teammates with him as well and a Pyro who is a professional at what he calls spy-checking. And Snipers do not operate in the main building for they are often found at the battlements. The spy should take good care of him."
"You could have gone after him!" the Soldier cried out. "Why'd you decide to take care of me? I could have respawned and annihilate those bastards once and for all. What is up with you Doc?"
"Mistakes happen my friend."
"You have 5 minutes left in the mission!"
The three team members halted as they listened to the blaring voice of the Administrator coming straight out from the loudspeakers. The Engineer compacted his level 3 sentry into a large toolbox and heaved it in his burly, sturdy hands.
"Well what are y'all waiting for?" he said. "We have a base to capture!"
The Medic nodded and went after him followed reluctantly by the Soldier, his rocket launcher pressed against his shoulder and his shovel slung across his back the way a knight would sheath his zweihander.
"We should head for our sewers then," he requested, indignantly. "At least then there will be a greater chance of us not dying, as opposed to going through the main entrance."
"Good idea bub," the Engineer articulated. "I guess we'd better sprint for it, otherwise then what's the point? Times almost up anyways."
"Where the hell are we?" the Scout muttered as he shielded his face from the dazzling sunlight shining directly onto it.
The Sniper shrugged as he peered at his surroundings. Expecting to land within the sewers of the Blu base with the concrete walls and the shallow stream of dirty water in front of them, they instead have appeared to have entered an area that was not in 2fort. They were in a wide open field, with none of the usual restrictions the Administrator had inserted such as towering electrical fences or walls made from timber visible. Grass beds were positioned precisely under their feet with tangible blades of green, wet from a recent shower of rain. A dusty, rocky path lay in front of them leading to a forest with trees on either side of the track. Behind them were just farmlands littered with nothing except for a couple of ancient, weathered away barn houses and tiny plots of vegetation. Other than that civilization appeared to be diminutive within the area and there was no doubt that even if they met some of the inhabitants, they might either attack the team on sight or provide them with as little information as possible. Plus the Administrator's process of keeping the whole Blu versus Red business would make it nigh impossible for the locals to even have a clue as to where 2fort even is.
He sighed, not with satisfaction, but rather with hopelessness. They were now situated in the middle of nowhere with nothing but fields along with certain abandoned looking farms and a forest in front of them which could be filled with creatures not even they could perhaps defeat. He had heard tales, some just relatively well written fairy tales while others actual accounts by survivors of several ambushes underneath the canopy. Because of this he was hesitant to move forwards, but he knew it was the only way out of this. The sunlight got brighter and brighter, its illumination eventually eliminating traces of water on the grass blades. This left the Sniper no choice but to adjust his hat. The Sniper adjusted his hat so the rim overshadowed his face so as to block out the ultra-violet rays that were aimed at his head.
"So what do we do now?" Heavy asked in a tone the team could have easily mistaken as innocent.
"I do not know what we are going to do," the Spy replied, shoving another cigarette into his mouth and exhaling a puff of smoke as though he did not care not bit about the situation they were in. "But one thing I know is that we are in the middle of nowhere thanks to that stupid Engineer and his unbelievably disastrous teleporter. Gentlemen, I perhaps may not know where we are or how we are going to get out but I do know how we got here. It's one of two things; either the Engineer was being an idiot or he is a traitor!"
The team stared at the Spy in slight shock. While the cunning Frenchman was known for his rather pessimistic and cynical attitude towards his teammates until eventually he was the one on the team who was likely to be isolated from their presence during celebrations. However none of them have ever seen him getting so worked up in furiosity before. The worse that he would often do was berate whoever angered him and then walk away. On rare occasions he would sneak in to the person's room and steal whatever is most valuable to them, leaving behind a spray with his emotionless face on it. But he had never ever showed emotion before to his teammates, not even anger. He always hid them well.
"Well one thing's for sure," Sniper said. "Medic, Engineer, Soldier and Pyro aren't here."
"Of course they aren't you blubbering fool!" the spy criticized. "Do you see an exit here? Hah, do you?!"
His cigarette fell out of his mouth as he rattled on with fury. The Sniper noticed the Heavy with a rather jaded look on his face.
"Can we just move on?" he said. "Heavy does not like wasting time and as little big man, I want to get home as quickly as possible."
"Hate wasting time?" the Spy criticized, his voice added with a touch of mocking laughter that made the Sniper want to beat the living daylights out of him. "You, the humongous heavy… hates wasting time? You sir are the biggest time waster I have seen in my many years on this planet! While everyone is busy, you procrastinate by eating from that fridge of ours and babysitting that dumb minigun of yours!"
"Sasha is not dumb." The Heavy had a menacing look in his eyes, a sign that often tends to foreshadow incoming destruction caused by him to his victim. His voice was low and threatening and was fitting of his somewhat bear-like structure. He lumbered leisurely to the Spy, his face moving in line with his like an adult trying to scold a kindergartener. "So do not ever, call Sasha dumb."
"Listen to me mate," the Sniper scowled, pointing a sharp finger in the Spy's direction. He just like the Heavy had felt that the Spy had done enough emotional damage for the day. "You've gone too far, way too far now do you know that? Standing here yelling curses and mocking your friends is not going to get us home. I suggest we move forwards into the forest. Maybe we can find civilization beyond it and we could get help or maybe instructions on how to get home. But we can't just stay here for the whole bloody day!"
The other team members excluding the Demoman who was busy drinking from his bottle of alcohol, all gazed at each other with unease. When they looked at the Sniper they seemed uncertain of their answer. The Spy however was not.
"You imbecile!" he half-yelled out. "If we go through that forest, who knows what kinds of peril we would be forced into. We might be hunted by wild animals, butchered by wild men and maybe even captured and robbed by bandits. We would have to be extremely lucky to escape there alive!'
"I'm going."
The group save the Sniper stared at the Scout as though he were insane. The Scout's eyes darted from one team member to the next, almost confused as to why they were staring at him like this.
"What?" he said. "Like Snipes said, it's the only way we'll ever get home. Anyways, anythings better than sitting here all day long. C'mon you guys, I'm freakin bored over here. Let's just find a way back to base so we can kick as serious Blu team ass!"
"I want to go too," Heavy said, his beefy face enlightened with the air of sincerity. "We stay here, we waste time. We go through forest, we get back home. I am confident about my choice comrades."
The Demoman himself also nodded, rather drunkenly though, but still displayed to the others that he was willing to venture out into the woods. He let out a tiny belch before tossing aside his empty bottle of beer, which shattered into miniscule fragments of glass. "Aye," he said. "As long as there be some scrumpy, then I'm up for it. I'm too bloody tired waiting out here!"
The Sniper could have sworn he was beaming with joy and desperation inside. No one had ever taken his decisions into account before; they always viewed him as the rather shabby Australian who didn't have enough ball sacks to approach an enemy in close quarters and instead relied on his Sniper Rifle behind enemy lines like some coward. Of course the Engineer was also missing from the battlefield, but at least he was congratulated for his talent in machinery and engineering. The Sniper was not as made certain at the amount of boastings from his other crew mates about their recent headshots for the day.
"So all in favor for going into the woods then," he announced, raising his hand like a student wanting to ask a question in a classroom. "You don't have to go if you really don't want to Frenchie. We'll just leave your backstabbing little ass here in the bloody sunlight."
The Spy shrugged off the Sniper's poor attempt at winding him up even further. "Your attempts at mockery are futile to me," he sneered. "If you really wish to know the answers then I have to say, yes I'm going with you idiots to the forest. I have no choice really. It's either die in honor while fighting the wild beasts of the forest or get mysterious mugged and killed by bandits who would most likely sneak up on me at night. If I stay in this very spot, I could also die of starvation while trying to find civilization or maybe even poison after my desperation encourages me to accidently consume toadstool."
"Well we're not in the mood for any bloody lectures Frenchie," the Sniper said. "So I'm taking that as a no."
The Spy glared at him as though he intended to murder the stubborn Australian. "You sometimes make me want to gut you like a pig. You better listen to me now you swine. I'm coming with you and my decision is final."
"Smart choice wanker," the Sniper jeered before turning to the direction where the towering treetops of the forest loomed over them sinisterly. "Now come on boy."
The group made their way into the forest with the Spy trudging behind them, scowled resentfully. As they went further in, they saw nothing of particular interest but however noticed the declining presence of sunlight with each step they took until only small rays of light were visible, penetrating through the upper canopy. There was still no sign of danger, no wild beasts to be found, no bandits waiting in the bushes. But the group still moved with caution, their weapons gripped firmly within their hands. The tension was unbelievable; every bit of noise whether it was the buzzing of a cluster of bees resting in their beehive or a loud tearing sound of leaves after someone trod on it, the team would instantly point their weapons to the source of the noise.
They moved on silently, to what appeared to be hours. Still the forest seemed endless and there was no sign of an exit yet. Then the Demoman stopped in his tracks.
"Do you lads see that?" he demanded, jabbing his finger to a sight in the distance in front of them
True enough, the Demoman was indeed the first one of the day to discover something unusual. In the distant beyond the trees they could spot the outline of a castle perched on a hill along with a village accompanying it like a mother would to her child. This immediate discovery was enough to get the hopes of each team member, save for the Spy who was as pessimistic and cynical as usual, raised up. The Sniper had a look of enthusiasm while the Scout and the Heavy were no different as they both exchanged wide toothy grins. The Demoman however had an unusual expression on his face. It was a mixture between determination and greed, the look that crooks have on their faces when they've uncovered a secret stash full of a billion dollars worth of money.
"Well it's a castle," the Spy said. "Or precisely you could say it's a keep judging by its size. First of all I don't think it would be wise to exhibit happiness because one, we don't know how to get there and two, we don't know what dangers may be lurking within that area."
"Oh go and boil your own head wanker," the Sniper said, clasping the Frenchman by his left shoulder pad. "A building this dandy looking has got to have some wankers living in it. Maybe there are people there who could tell us how to get home."
"And not to mention, food," the Heavy added, smacking his lips in hunger.
"We don't even know if there are people even living in that place," the Spy retorted. "You're just jumping straight to conclusions. Far as I know it could be a ghost town. Anyway if there are indeed people residing within the proximity of that blasted place, they could be hostile to us and kill us on site. We need to approach with caution."
"That place…"
The other team members turned to look at the Demoman who was gaping at the sight of the keep.
"No, it can't be," the Demoman said yet again. "Oh by the taste of me rum."
"What's wrong Cyclops?" the Scout asked, inquisitively.
"That place," he replied. "By the hand of the Scotsman! That's Degroot Keep!"
The group stared at the Demoman in silence and bewilderment as the Scotsman did a literal tap dance and leapt for joy. A glint of excitement was visible in his right eye. The Scout soon broke his attention.
"Degroot Keep?" the Scout said, stunned. "You're kidding me right? Degroot's your last name."
"That's because it was used to house a member of his family," the Spy said. "It was a Keep established within the 10th century. It was very notable for being the home of Demoman's own ancestor, Sir Davish Degroot. I know this because this eye patch wearing buffoon here keeps a book about it hidden within the safe confinements of his bedroom."
None of the team members were surprised at this sudden proposal. All of them knew that the Spy was caught on multiple occasions rummaging through the belongings of his crew. He was often criticized for his actions and beaten up, but he still continued this peculiar habit. In fact the others got used to him doing this and allowed him freedom to do so provided he doesn't steal. After all he was a member of the Red team and all members have managed to earn their trust. After all, old habits die hard.
"Aye." The Demoman drew a deep breath before speaking again. "But me ancestor, oh he wasn't just no ordinary person. He started off as a warrior fighting for his clan and he was so feared throughout the countryside you'd be begging to fight the Headless Horseman instead. Basically any scoundrel that dared to even attack him or question his methods were either viciously murdered like cattle or worse! And lobbing off heads, oh he loved slicing their heads off. It pleased him to no end. His sword, the Eyelander had claimed so many heads that people started rumors stating that his sword had a mind of its own. And it wanted more heads! But that's not all laddies. On one day he decided to betray the lord of his own clan."
"Betray his own team?" the Heavy asked with wonder. "Why would he do that?"
"Because he desired more glory and more honor and decided that that lord was bloody stealing it all for himself!" The Demoman twirled what was left of his bottle in the air like a makeshift weapon, his face flecked with the expression of deep desire. "He was hungry for more. So one night he rallied up some of his finest and truest of his companions and set off for the lord's keep. They killed all of his loyal subjects first and it was like a bloodbath. These subjects, they were a bunch of loyal numpties they were, always praising the fat oaf like he's some kind of idol. Anyways they caused a bit of commotion and the lord and his lassie well… they woke up. The clan lord just comes down and stares at the fighting, just bloody stares at it and does nothing. Then after his lads were slain he grabs his weapon and leaps at me ancestor. He put up a good fight he did and he even managed to take Davish's eye out of its bloody socket. That's what gave him the eyepatch," the Demoman added as he jabbed his finger to his own eyepatch. "Sir Davish just killed the dunderhead easily with just one swing." The demoman swiped at the air once with the broken bottle as if imitating the story out in reality. "It was like slicing through butter. Bloody oaf; well at least he could actually fight. So Davish just took his crown and placed it on his head and just went to his throne like he was the king. Yes, he bloody well just said to himself 'well sod off, might as well just crown myself then!' His companions became his loyal subjects and they all knelt down ta kiss his feet. His victory was to be celebrated; there was to be a great feast and lots of heroic music that was played to the previous lord after the clan had won battles. The lord lassy, well she was a whore, so she didn't mind sharing a room with the man who killed her dunderhead of a husband."
"Wow," the Scout scoffed. "Sounds an awful lot like you Cyclops. Sorry bro but you didn't convince me enough."
"Didn't anyone try to stop him?" the Heavy asked. "I mean that man killed their king."
"Naw, nobody could," the Demoman replied. "Everyone feared him before and the death of their previous lord made them fear him more. If a soldier could finish off one of the most powerful heroes in Scotland then imagine what he could do to a lowlife civilian. The man was beyond brutal; brilliant but brutal. He could have been the perfect dunderhead but even the fearsome of all people have had their moments."
"That does not explain the look of determination you had on your face," the Spy said. "Your speech was most arousing but you had this look that spoke to me that you wanted to perhaps take over that keep like your ancestor did."
"Aye," the Demoman told him. "The man be dead by now. It would be easier to take it over."
"Yes but don't you see, the keep is still standing. Surely it would be weathered away by now, becoming nothing but a cluster of old ruins and rocks. A person must be currently occupying the keep right now, keeping everything tidy and claiming it as his home."
"Then we kill him!"
All four team members stared at the Demoman as though he were a psychopath hell-bent on committing a violent and brutal rampage across the woods. The Sniper's face in particular had gotten increasingly pale. "You must be bloody joking mate!" he said. "If you expect to kill off an innocent person just so you could take over from him then you must be bonkers!"
"The Sniper is right for the very first time," the Spy said, while disposing of his last cigarette. "Only a blithering fool would be that imprudent as to march into there without any knowledge of what is going on. And executing an innocent human being would be far more immoral than what your ancestor would have done. It would be quite despicable." He whipped out yet another cigarette and lit it with a lighter before popping it into his mouth. "And I believe I am out of cigarettes now. We need to also take into account what we have left of our ammunition for our weaponry and how we can actually go about trying to refill them. I highly doubt there would be ammo boxes lying about here."
"Sasha is empty," the Heavy said, a sad tone reflected in his deep voice. "I waste bullets on puny little enemy Demo."
"So what do you propose we do then?" the Demoman insisted impatiently.
"I think that it would be most wise if we should go to that area, but only to ask for specific directions back home. If it appears that we are indeed in Scotland then we will ask for the nearest form of transportation to take us back to the US. If they refuse to give us information then we interrogate them and if that still doesn't work we move on. If they try to kill us then we pump the remaining pieces of ammo into their foolish brains. If of course they are idiotic enough to do such a thing!"
The team paused for a moment at this proposal. The Scout then nodded in agreement. "Sounds legit."
"You're stating the obvious again Frenchie," the Sniper scoffed. "Don't always go about thinking you're all high and mighty else you're gonna get killed sooner or later."
The Spy sneered at the bumbling Sniper then straightened his tie. "I hope you have honed your senses well during training Sniper. I expect it would be most useful in preventing yourself from having a knife embedded in your back."
"Oh don't count too much on your luck Frenchie. Unless you wanna lose your bloody head."
The Spy scowled as he reloaded his revolver, fitting the last of his bullets from within the safe confinements of his trouser pockets into the slot within the gun barrel. "It is most sad to see that you, a professional killer, have a knack for telling flat and atrocious jokes. It is indeed irony at its finest. Well it appears that I have only six bullets left granted that many of them were spent being inserted into the body of that fat idiot on the other team. It is almost evident that ammo boxes or supply cabinets will not be discovered within the area since this is not a place that appears to have been hosted by the administrator and if it was we would not have freedom like we do now. Not to mention that hunger, thirst and toiletry essentials will be increasing at a rather rapid rate so I suggest that we move now. I have no choice but to follow you imbeciles to that place in hopes of actually finding out where we are."
The group nodded with the Sniper doing his in a manner that displayed proof of annoyance. They then began to trek onwards through the isolated woods, their goal of getting back home safety being the only factor preventing them from subjecting themselves to fear and hopelessness. The Spy's speech had made a whole lot of sense to them. They were beginning to experience the strike of hunger, their tummies suddenly rumbling, eager for a meal. Their lips were getting dry with their desperation for water, or in the Demoman's case an alcoholic beverage, becoming problematic to them. They picked up speed with the Spy leading them in front, hoping to discover a limit to the wide expanse of this forest. They felt the sunlight starting to dim with every step they took. The sky was eventually overcast when the Heavy decided to save his breath.
"Come on Fatso," the Scout jeered. "We need to get a move on else it would be too freaking dark!"
"Wait a few seconds more," the Heavy said. "I just need to –"
All of a sudden a loud rustling sound was made audible only a few inches away from them. This was then followed by footsteps which were rendered noisy by the sounding of cracked and flattened leaves.
The Spy whipped out his revolver. "I believe gentlemen, that this is most likely an ambush."
"There they are!"
Cries and shrills were heard in front of them and darts flew in their direction, colliding with the flesh of the Heavy, Demoman and Scout.
"Bit loud for an ambush don't you think?" the Spy smirk as he ducked behind the nearest tree.
"Holy smokes!" the Sniper cried out as the three victims collapsed. "They're using sleeping darts."
"Do you think they don't teach Spies that?" the Spy inquired as he pulled off three shots from his revolver from behind the tree. Three audible yelps satisfied him as he glimpsed three men collapsed on the forest floor, blood oozing from their foreheads.
The Scout and the Demoman were not faring well as they had already succumbed to the extract let out by the darts. The Heavy's strong and almost iron-like skin shook the drowsiness off as he pressed on the trigger of his minigun, letting out a roar so animalistic one could have sworn there was a bear rampaging through the enemy units. The Barbarians, or so they looked like based purely on their appearances, separated from each other as they clambered up trees, hid behind branches and dodged to avoid the hail of bullets. One of them, a beautiful woman so scantily dressed she almost looked like a belly dancer, was one of the more unlucky ones as the bullets from the Heavy's minigun collided with her causing her to disintegrate into a pile of flesh, blood and bone. This was followed by a loud shriek from the Sniper as he was covered in what was left of her.
"I can tell you pitied her," the spy muttered under his breath as he identified her as the one giving out all the orders. "She was in no fit shape to be a commander whatsoever."
Her death appeared to have such a huge impact on the tribesman that they started crying in anguish and rushed towards the heavy, shooting sleeping darts into every orifice of his body while screaming words that sounded like gibberish to the Spy and the Sniper. The Heavy's eyes flickered shut as he met the same exact fate as the Demoman and the Scout.
"Well apparently they are not shooting to kill," the Sniper said as he picked off more tribesmen with his rifle. "Rather strange don't you think?"
"Leave the questions until after the battle," the Spy panted as he pulled one of the Tribesmen who had approached his hiding spot in an armlock, disabling him. "Right now just focus on killing them. I'm leaving this one alive for interrogations later on."
"On it," the Sniper said as he slid his last round of bullets into the chamber of his rifle. "Dem bloody suicidal freaks are not gonna live to see the light of day when I'm-"
He was cut off by the low hiss of a dart being shot. It plunged into his left shoulder pad at an incredible velocity that it threw him off balance and face down into the dirt.
The Spy muttered a curse under his breath and activated his invis-watch, the Cloak and Dagger. He then made his way under a fallen tree trunk and crouched, keeping very still and silent as the barbarians approached the Sniper's body. He kept a watchful eye on them, blocking out all thoughts of wanting to engage in combat, knowing that he definitely would be outnumbered if he did.
One of the barbarians, a girl wearing a long velvet cloak that completely concealed her body save for her face (unlike the rest of her teammates), started rummaging through the Sniper's body, shoving her hands through his pockets, fishing out playing cards and trying to search every nook and cranny of him as though she were inspecting him for some foul substance at an airport. When the contents of his pockets were emptied she turned to address her allies, speaking in the same unidentified language that the previous lady had used. Her voice broke at one point and the Spy could tell she was silently crying. The tear tracks he had glimpsed on her face while she was searching the Sniper's body made it too obvious. She then raised her voice to a shout, barking orders at the men and gesturing frantically at the bodies. The barbarians nodded and heaved each of the Spy's teammates over their shoulders before escaping the area. The girl scanned her surroundings as if to see if she were watched, then followed them. The Spy did the same.
He moved unnoticed from tree to tree, checking his watch now and then to make sure the invisibility meter had not run out. The Cloak and Dagger was a specialized weapon he had received as a trophy after dispatching fifteen enemies with fatal backstabs in around twenty minutes all without dying at least one. In fact every teammate received a weapon either as a reward for their achievements in battle or as a present from another teammate who happened to have found the weapon on the battlefield or snatched it from their enemy. Some members, such as the engineer, preferred crafting their weaponry from scrap metal or via a combination of preceding items that they had received either as a bounty or as loot.
The Spy's entire loadout consisted of what he called specialized weaponry. The Cloak and Dagger was merely his favorite. It allowed him to stay invisible in one spot without the invis-watch depleting, granting him the opportunity to hide from his enemies for long periods of time. This was a great tactic that allowed him to survey a spot in front of him or to sneak past enemy defenses without fear of someone discovering his presence (unless a pyro was nearby doing some spy checking). The only drawback was that the cloak meter would start decreasing whenever he made a slight bit of movement, at a faster rate than the other watches, but the Spy could live with that. After all it was almost impossible to develop something that was perfectly catered to an individual in Mann Co without any flaws whatsoever. Especially something as advanced and innovative as the Cloak and Dagger. There are rules applied to the world and Mann Co. has already broken some of them via their methods of production. Just how people aren't born with perfection, Mann Co. weaponry followed the same norm. Despite the availability of other watches including the default one that all spies acquire after training, the Cloak and Dagger was the one with the most advantages.
He also carried four other tools along with him. The Enforcer was his trusty pistol. Shaped in the form of a Magnum, the Enforcer was a formidable entity on the battlefield at least to him. The same could be said for the Big Earner, a knife that used to function as a basic letter opener but had been refined by Mann Co. employees. Both of these had been given to him as part of his involvement with the Mafia along with the Heavy who also received his own set of gangster related weaponry, much to his satisfaction. It was for completing a job that required him to act as a mole in a rival mobster family whose rivalry was made known throughout the territory. He also carried a sapper, a tool for which he used to disable and destroy sentries, and a disguise kit which is activated through cigarettes.
All of a sudden the girl halted. She raised her hand, beckoning her comrades to do the same. A string of unfamiliar words flew out of her mouth, starting at a low murmur then picking up volume until she was practically shouting at them. The tone in her voice seemed to be one of fear and paranoia.
This posed a huge dilemma for the Spy. Did she know he was watching her? The Spy was cautious in his movement and was careful enough to make sure those tribesmen were not able to notice his presence within the area.
Must be a strong case of paranoia, he thought to himself.
At that moment the girl snapped her gaze towards the direction he was crouched at. If he were of any other class, the Spy would have yelped in shock. She knew where he was; it was almost as if she could see through his cloak.
No she couldn't possibly have known. It's probably just a coincidence.
There are no coincidences!
Her eyes narrowed, an aura of curiosity visible in them. She moved slowly and steadily towards his position, her gaze fixated on him almost as if she were staring into his very soul. Her allies watched her every move, looks of confusion on their sturdy faces. The Spy gawked at her as he desperately fumbled mentally through his brain cells to come up with a solution. He couldn't believe it, she had found out where he was hiding.
How is it possible? Did the watch have a minor setback? Can she see through my invisibility? These questions and theories ran throughout his head. It was equivalent to waking up after a hangover to see a hitman standing over your conscious body with a knife. Any moment now she was going to grab him by his neck, choking him while displaying his visible body to the tribesmen as they all cheer simultaneously. Then what? Are they going to capture me like they did with my comrades? Or will they gut me like a fish?
There was no time to think of the consequences. As his trainer told him, "one must act first before he realizes the costs of his actions." He snatched a rock and hurled it towards his left. It collided against a tree trunk with a sound loud enough for the mysterious tribeswoman to hear. She shifted her stare towards that location as the spy quickly stumbled for the nearest tree to his right. He hid behind it, steadying his breathing and praying that she wouldn't come looking for him here. Because God help me if she does.
One of the tribesmen spoke. Despite the rather unfamiliar language, the Spy could still tell that from his voice he was concerned as well as a little agitated. His arms moved in frantic motions when she replied, in a rather aggravated manner, to his worries. At this point he appeared like a child demanding to have sweets brought despite his parents refusing to collaborate to meet his desires. The girl's face turned a shade of bright scarlet and she puffed up her cheeks and yelled at them through what is apparently their version of profanities. She then motioned for them to leave which they immediately did. They slowly made their way through a clearing in the forest, enabling the girl to think on her own accord.
It was only the two of them left and it was a matter of time before they locked eyes with each other.