Ah, Goldrush. A small, quiet mine. By quiet, meaning just the ambient sounds of nature, the wind, and the trading of gunfire and rockets and grenades, as well as the occasional man being blown apart and his pieces falling to the ground. Or the nice, calming "shhrnk" of a knife piercing flesh, and a body smooshing comfortably onto the ground.
It was the final stage of Goldrush, and BLU was attempting to push their innocent-looking bomb up the hill to make it to the 1st checkpoint. Normally, it was supposed to be a holiday weekend for both RED and BLU, but the arrival of new weapons (although there were shipping errors, resulting in them being scattered around the various battlefields) meant that an assault was in order, not only to try and destroy RED's supply of weapons, but also to see if they could scavenge some from various shipping crates that had yet to be brought into the base and were just sitting around, practically begging to be broken into.
At the top of the hill, a RED Sniper was carefully aiming his scope, patiently scanning for his BLU prey. His target came running up the hill, a BLU Soldier who, unfortunately for the Sniper, spotted him and started firing rockets rapidly; the first one hit a few feet away from the Sniper, the rest missing as he ran to the side, took aim, and put the Soldier out of his misery (or would it be Sniper's misery? Who knows).
After this short battle, Sniper called for a medic, who (predictably) took his time in coming up to him, although at least he came.
"About damn time, medic," he grumbled.
The RED Medic looked at him wistfully. "Zo sorry, didn't realize you were in such dire need of attention. Oh, ze poor snipah, I got a knick in the leg and I'm gonna die, oh no!"
"..." The sharpshooter glared at his doctor, but grumbled his thanks for healing him.
"If you must know, I found the strangest thing on the ground half a click away ." The Medic then held up what looked like an old bow, brown and aesthetic-looking and having no distinguishing marks, and a quiver.
"Holy Duley, finally!" cheered the Sniper, taking it from the Medic. "It's me Huntsman, it finally came...lousy TF Co, always gotta break something before they fix it...How did you find it?"
10 Minutes Ago...
"Blutsauger....check. Ubercannon, check. Ubersaw..." Medic looked around, spotting a friendly spy smoking a cigarette in a corner, and lunged the Ubersaw at him. The spy spat out the cig and cursed the medic, and the saw's indicator did not go up. "Check."
As Medic began to walk out of the base and towards the battlefront, he spotted a broken box, with something shiny poking out of the top. "It must be those new arrivals..." RED Medic looked around, and crept up to the box as if it was a bomb, and extracted the shiny object carefully.
It was a bow, a brown, simple bow. Digging deeper, the good doctor also found a fully-loaded quiver, which he proceeded to throw over his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a spy uncloaking and reappearing as a medic. Smirking, he went up to his puesdo-alter-ego.
"You know, normally I don't practice Acupunture..." the Red Medic remarked to the unfortunate spy. "But zees time, I don't mind trying out something...new."
With that parting statement, the spy found himself hanging on the wall with an arrow to the face, blood pouring from his forehead.
"4 out of 5 docktors discourage blood-letting," he joked, "however, I am ze 5th docktor!"
After this recollection of recent events, the Sniper was looking at him blankly. Medic took this as a dismissal and ran off to look for more people to heal (or fill with not-so-healthy needles).
A bang, a splat, and a thump, and another Heavy was facedown in the dirt. RED had to fall back to their main base, but put up a good defensive line, with several sentries and stickies near the bomb tracks. Now all they had to watch out for was spies.
Sniper chose the highest perch, naturally, and after a half hour of patiently looking through his scope, he had to...make some Jarate, naturally.
A few minutes later, a RED Pyro came up to his perch. He was simply doing his spy-checking duties...naturally. He gave a whiff of flame to the Sniper, and when he refused to be ignited, Pyro began to turn back until he spotted the colorful piss-jars next to him.
"Mpph mpph?" he wheezed, pointing at said jars.
The sharpshooter looked over. "Oh, those are just my Jarate jars. Fling 'em at spies, those buggers never knew what hit 'em, and they won't be able to cloak and run away either."
The Pyro tilted his head in confusion/understanding, then suddenly had an idea. He began to wheeze again and point at the jars.
"Take them?" the Sniper guessed. The Pyro nodded. "Uh...help yourself." He waved to the jars, and the pyro did a strange victory dance and grabbed up 3 jars, then ran off, looking elated.
"Crazy little bugger..." the Sniper mused.
RED Pyro was busy running around the lower mine area, acting very eager, like a child looking for his birthday cake. He was still clutching the jars of questionable sanitation, until he bumped into a fellow RED Pyro and nearly dropped his jars.
He was about to wheeze out an apology when he noticed something: he was the only Pyro RED had employed at the moment.
The two Pyros stared at each other.
As if on instinct, the real Pyro threw a piss jar at the other, resulting in a very confused (and now very wet) BLU Spy in front of him.
The Spy looked at himself and looked as if he was going to puke. "Is this...MON DEUIRE!!" he screamed, his eyes wide in shock.
However, the Pyro looked confused. He wasn't hurt in any visible way. What was the point of these things? Suddenly, he had an idea. Opening the lid (thankfully, his gas mask blocked the dreadful pneumonia smell), he cast some sort of fire into it, igniting the urine.
The BLU Spy looked ever more confused now. What could be worse than being Jarate'd? He found out as a flaming piss jar hit him. Now he was covered in piss AND fire.
"Fireate... (pronounced "Fur-ah-tee") I have been shown who is the BOSS!" With that, the poor Spy ran around in circles, dripping fire and yellow by-product until he eventually fell over and crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
"So tell me again," the Sniper asked Pyro that evening. "You turned me piss into...a Molotiv Pisstail?"
"Mhhmm-hmmph," he replied. "Mpphmm-hmphh hmpph hmm!" He pointed to his propeller hat he had found shortly after igniting the very unlucky spy. He then gave it a twirl, and flew up into the sky, only to be seen the next morning, ready to fire up some enemy spies.
The Sniper took off his glasses, staring up to where the Pyro was in the sky.
"Ah piss..."
-_EL FIN_-