"METAL GIANT IS KILLING US!"
Heavy wiped the sweat from his brow, and shifted Sasha in his grip. The unrelenting hordes of Grey Mann's robots continued to advance in the relentless Arizona sun. Shasha clicked as she hit empty barrels. Heavy grunted in annoyance and lay her aside. He brought out his shotgun; a vulgar weapon that he wasn't fond of. He felt the pleasant wash of the medigun's beam across his back, and felt renewed.
"Go, get zehm!" screamed the German, the ruddy light from the tube he gripped setting a mad light dancing in his dark eyes. Heavy grinned mirthlessly and ran to the nearest supply crate. He pulled out an ammo belt, picked up Sasha, and unleashed new and fresh hells upon the advancing androids.
Demo staggered out from behind the upgrade station, taking another swig from his bottle of rum as he went. He found the only way to face a homicidally deranged robot with no other purpose than to blow up all that you held dear, was to do it out of his skull on the closest alcohol. Nevertheless, he clutched his grenade launcher with the same amount of grim determination that he always did, taking some comfort from the good Scottish wood that formed the hand grip. He summoned whatever reserve he had that had not been hoarded by the rum, and charged into the fray.
"If they deploy the bomb, all is lost!" The administrator sounded justifiably concerned as she watched the steel imitation of the pyro jerkily approach the hatch. The laser sights of the snipers criss-crossed the battlefield like the security grid behind her door.
They began winking out, one by one.
Heavy and Medic, crouched behind a barrier near the hatch dared to lift their heads to peek over the cement block as the laser sights of the sniper's rifles stuttered and died. The pyro-bot hugged the bomb, and prepared to leape into oblivion. And stopped. The scout-bot that had the demoman in a chokehold preared to remove his other eye ... and froze. The mercenaries tentatively began to emerge from their hiding spots. The large Siberian nervously prodded the pyro-bot. The bomb fell from it's grasp with a metallic THUNK! Heavy staggered back and covered his face. Nothing happened. When nothing kept happenning, the hulking Russian looked back. The pyro stood there. Immobile. Stuck.
The mercenaries gathered together in front of the Mann Co. Headquarters. All of a sudden, the androids straightened up as one, and began to march back towards the colossal tracked vehicle whence they came. The comrades looked at one another in bewilderment. None offered an explanation.
"Is...Is that it?" the Demoman slurred, taking a large gulp from his third 'emergency' bottle. Silence was the eloquent reply. The last of the steel-death machines marched into the massive tank-like contraption and the large hangar door slammed shut. For a while nothing happened. The engineer fingered his PDA nervously.
There was an almighty screeching noise, like the universal blackboard had been scraped by the proverbial fingernails. It stopped before long, replaced by a low hissing. A thunderous voice spoke out, shaking the ground and making loose boards rain down from around the battered headquarters.
"Defenders of Mann Co. This is Grey Mann. I have ceased the attack on on your premises in order to deliver you this ultimatum:
"I require a certain...object. However my Manndroids have had no-... I mean little success in securing for me. You must bring this object to me by midday on Thursday. You have 48 hours. Let me give you a taste of what will happen if you fail me."
The horizon was suddenly dotted with figures, growing larger by the second. At their full height, they blotted out the sun. The Mega-Manndroids clutched weapons the size of 3-storey buildings. The Medic squinted at their faces, and saw light bulbs that must be the size of cars glittering with malice. The air was rent with a grinding, the sound of straining metal. Large hatches creaked open on the tracked vehicle, revealing bristling banks of blue checked-missiles. They were all pointing at the Headquarters building.
"Do not fail."
With those words, the tannoy cut off. The mercenaries looked at each other. The Engineer's teeth were chattering. The Demoman put his hand on his shoulder, and offered him some rum, which was gladly accepted. The five friends looked at each other. The Spy uncloaked, an flicked away his cigarette. He narrowed is peircing grey eyes.
"Well. I believe ze course is clear. We must find this...whatever eet ees."
The Heavy looked doubtful;
"How?"
Demoman smiled weakly.
" 'S obvious, innit? We ask the bloody maniac!"