LOST
Part 1
Photogenic, crystal-clear waves ran over a white-gold, sandy shore. The sea stretched on for miles, the sun high above illuminating the blue surface in a postcard-perfect image. The island vegetation waved in the warm breeze, the peaceful chirping of exotic birds hidden within the branches. And towards the rocky cliffs, the sounds of the waves crashing harshly against grey rocks, was the most chaotic part of this incredible show of nature.
It would be perfect, if it wasn't for the hysterical screaming coming from further up the beach, with a curiously strong Bostonian accent, "THIS PLACE IS GONNA FRICKIN' KILL US!"
Engineer was debating how guilty he would feel if he was to casually knock out the panicking New-England brat, who was ranting as he paced up and down the white beach. The other mercs were scattered about the place, either watching the Bostonian boy rant and whine, looking around in awe at the probably extremely deadly, yet charming scenery, or, in Sniper's case, dragging dead branches from the tree-line to make a rather sloppy S.O.S sign in the sand.
It had only been fifteen minutes, but Scout was already planning on where he wanted to be buried.
"Okay, I've SEEN 'nough survival movies to know how this all ends up!" Scout cried, pointing at the lounging group, spread out among the sand. "And that's all of us in a GRAVE! First, it'll be Demo-" Said Scotsman sat up at the mention, glaring. "Oi! Chatterboxes go first in horror movies, look it up!" Scout laughed mockingly, looking paler by the minute despite the warm sun above them. "Oh, I would love to look it up, but, see, here's the thin'..." Scout threw his arms wide, gesturing to the mass of green jungle behind them and the endless ocean that completely surrounded them. "WE'RE ON AN ISLAND OF DEATH HERE!"
"If ya keep ya yappin', then we will be dyin'!" Sniper snapped, pausing momentarily to wipe the sweat from his brow, glaring at the speedster. "For god's sake, shut ya hole or ya gonna call all the predators to us for a midday SNACK." Engineer sighed, stepping out from his shade. "Alright, let's not get into any more debates… Anyone see where Soldier went?"
As soon as the question left his mouth, Scout was already shaking his head, "Nope, uh uh, he's as good as DEAD, buddy. The guy may be a decent killer, but 'hats only with a launcher. He's as good as dead out here, start diggin' a grave!" Engineer rolled his eyes, looking in the direction the American had stormed off to. Upon awakening with the team, and the remnants of their cheap wooden boat on the shore, the man and launched straight up, covered in sand, seaweed and the jaw of a shark, concernedly without the rest of the shark to be seen, latched onto his helmet. He announced that he would be taking his leave to 'rebuild a NEW, STRONGER America.' At the time, Engie didn't take him seriously, as he was trying to salvage as much driftwood that was floating in, but by the time he turned around to berate the man…
No Soldier in sight.
Engie cupped his hands around his mouth, calling out down the direction he suspected the man had jogged off in, "JANE, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!" He paused, listening for a familiar battle-cry. In the silence, Scout scoffed, "Told ya! He's long gone, let's get a damn funeral set up!" Demoman, getting rather tired of the boy's rants, tossed a handful of sand as he stood, ignoring the New-England protests. "Bah, shut yae hole!" Demo snapped, brushing off his thighs of the golden grains. "Imma go look for food, keep ya bitchin' on low so I can concentrate."
"I'm NOT bitchin'!"
"Yae lips are movin' and yae complainin' 'bout something. We've been dyin' every-damn-day for YEARS now...do yae hear us all whinin' 'bout it all the time?"
Engineer sighed, stepping between the two as the tension started to rise, "'Right, BOTH of ya need to settle on down!" He ordered, then pointed a finger at each merc to make his point across, "We. Are. Not. Gonna. Be. Fightin'. Here." The Texan made a quick scan of the mercs, thinking quickly. "Heavy, see if ya can find somethin' to make an axe, we can start a fire and Pyro," The miraculously still-suited merc perked up at it's name, "Ya gonna help boil water, understand?" Scout frowned, "Uh, problem hard-hat. Pyro plus no flame-thrower, equals no fire. " Engineer shook his head.
"Son, it's Pyro. She'll find a way-"
"He."
"Them."
"It..."
"Shut it, tryin' to think about LIVIN' here!" Engineer snapped, then pointed at Medic, "Ya go with Demo, see what kinda vegetation and plants we got 'ere." Medic grinned, a dark gleam in his eyes, and Engie quickly added, "And if ya find somethin' poisonous, DON'T." The German pouted slightly, "Ack, fine! Töte-Joy …" The hat-less Texan ignored the protest, pointing at Sniper, "Ya gonna-" "Go make a spear, start the hunt." Sniper interrupted gruffly, nodding into the jungle. "Listen farm-boy. Ya all need to make shelter, get water, while I go do what I know best… that's huntin', 'right?" Engie blinked at the fierce, stone look in the Australians eyes, almost daring the Texan to argue.
"Well… Okay, Sniper will go hunt."
Sniper nodded, shucking off his jacket as he trudged towards the forest. "I ain't back by sundown," He called over his shoulder as he tied the jacket around his waist. "Then somethin' big got me, and ya all doomed." There was a scoff from the resident Frenchman, who had been calmly watching the chaos from the shade. "That certainly isn't positive." Spy stated calmly, raising a brow as the Australian passed by.
"Bah, ya won' miss me if 'm gone."
"Non, but your verbal sparring will indeed be missed."
Sniper's last response was a familiar flip of the middle-finger, before he fully disappeared into the green forest.
Then there was a long moment of total silence from the rag-tag team, before realization struck…
"He's gonna die."
"Yep."
"Most likely."
"Mmph hummph hunna."
"Une telle pitié."
"Moving ON." Engineer snapped, then he pointed at Scout. "You, go with Heavy. Help 'im get wood, and try not to get splinters." He added after a moment, and the boy frowned. "Man, i've read- okay, I didn' read , but I watched my brotha read- anyway, point is, i've SEEN someone read 'Lord of the Flies,' and that's US, I keep tellin' ya, WE. AIN'T. GONNA. MAKE. IT." The Bostonian continued to rant, until a huge shadow fell over him, and a large, calloused hand landed on his shoulder and cut the boy off. Scout slowly leaned his head back to blink wide-eyed at the irritated Russian.
Heavy glared down at the boy, who now stuttered to a stop, "Stop wailing like baby. We go cut wood. You keep mouth shut." Heavy leaned down, eyes dark. "Or I chop you down instead of tree." Scout blinked slowly, then quickly nodded. "Y-yeah okay. Ookie-dookie, big guy." Heavy nodded, and with a yelp, started dragging Scout behind him towards the forest. "We will return." Heavy said with firm certainty towards Engineer, one that shouldn't be doubted, and Scout gave a sarcastic wave to the remainder of the group. "Godspeed my friends..." He called, and with a strong tug from his teammate, went yelping and tumbling into the jungle after the Russian.
"And now we're down to fi-"
"Four, I am taking my leave." Spy said calmly, giving the group a mock salute. "I wish you the best, mon ami. Try not to die TOO quickly." The Frenchman started to turn, but Medic piped up. "Not zhat I care either way, but vhere do YOU plan to go?" He raised a brow, gesturing towards the forest. "You vill not find any custom designer suit-stores in there, I can promise you zhat, freund." Spy raised a brow, "I can assure you, I can manage." He sighed dramatically. "It will be hard, but I believe I shall fare better than with… THIS group." Spy took a long look at the group, particularly at the Pyro who was making a sandcastle, a rather impressive one in size and scale.
"Yes, I think my chances of survival shall increase, should I splint from this pack." Spy stated dryly, turning back to Engineer for minute. "I wish you the best… or, at the very least, a swift death." The Texan frowned, "Okay, so we ain't the…best survival group, but I don' think that splittin' up is the best option..."
"You've already lost Soldier, and I think that only increased your survival chances."
"... Point taken, but-"
"Eh, Laborer, I don't intend on dying on account of this… team." Spy said, offering a distasteful look. "I think I shall have a better chance if I take my leave. Farewell." Before the Texan could try to convince the man otherwise, Spy tapped his wrist, or rather his infamous watch, before blinking out of sight with the powers of invisibility and advanced technology.
"Good riddance." Medic said casually as the now-grumbling Texan stomped back over to the three remaining mercs, and Engineer frowned. "Okay… okay, we've lost Soldier… Sniper is a coin-flip, and Spy just… walked off." Engie rubbed his temples, dropping into the sand. "Dammit...how'd we end up here again?"
Demoman piped up, "Someone thought it would be a good trainin' exercise to hunt a shark." Engineer closed his eyes, "So it's Soldiers fault?" "Aye." "Of course…" Engie grumbled, leaning back to lay back in the sand, the headache steadily growing. Demoman stood, brushing sand off his clothes, "Right, 'm gonna keep a look out for 'm. Doc, ya comin'?" Medic nodded, pulling off his lab-coat to roll up his sleeves.
"Ja, I am very interested in studying zhe vegetation for… potential." A familiar, too-white grin appeared on the German's face, which quickly faded when Engineer piped in with a, "Nothin' poisonous, doc. Respawn can't pick us up… wherever we are." Medic grumbled, "Ach, fine." A pause. "... Vhat about a sedative-like substance?" Engineer tilted his head back to glare at the doctor, who then sighed mournfully. "Alright, perhaps later." He muttered, before trekking after the Scotsman.
Engie sighed and leaned back into the sand, wincing as the hot grains rubbed against his head. 'Dammit, I want my hat…' He thought, cursing the whole situation. His team scattered, no weapons, unknown territory, no sign of any way to get help or communication...And his signature, good ol' hardhat was likely drifting further out into the ocean.
"... We're f***ed, aren't we?" He casually asked Pyro, who was happily decorating their little sand castle with colorful sea-shells, as well as guiding a crab or two toward the moat. Pyro only offered a mumbled response, and Engie closed his eyes, wincing as his headache came full force, as powerful as the waves crashing against this solitary, uninhabitable island… now housing nine mercenaries.
PART 2: January 10th
See you there!
