21th of October. The day the pyros changed. The day we lost the battlements of Teufort.
It was a nice day, not a cloud in the sky, no breeze too quick and most importantly, the visibility was perfect. About as great as New Mexico was going to get.
Our dots sweeped left and right across their battlements, switching between the two sides as we raced to find the next target. A beautiful, peaceful day.
It had been a week since we gained control over the sightlines, by ruling the courtyard through our scopes we had all but locked the RED forces inside their little cubby house. The view our well composed team of eleven snipers enjoyed was of their entire base, only marred by the rickety bridge connecting our two bases over a shallow excuse of a river, or to be more specific, its roof. It provided any bloke lucky enough to get outside of their base a safe passing, atleast to our front door.
One of our two Texans on duty had set up shop by the main entrance so we had no interest in the ones that got away. Dell got to keep whatever trickled past us.
All was well and we had a routine.
An enemy sniper new or just bored enough would take a quick peek, at their best maybe taking one of us down before being drilled by nearly a dozen simultaneous shots. Every few minutes our scouts would rush past us, boasting they'd return with the intel this time. Not one ever came back, atleast not from the direction we watched. Every once in a while, we heard Dell get off his chair to give some southern hospitality to the BLU spy.
All was well. Seemingly.
I should have propably seen the signs. There were winds of change in the air. It took me three consecutive retires and respawns before I realized my Danger Shield was not working as it was supposed to. Whenever one of their snipers would catch me off guard, it was not keeping my gray matter where it mattered. But I didn't really care. There were no sniper duels anymore. It was one against eleven any time they'd feel confident showing their mugs outside.
Around turning of noon, it started. Right as their battlements had suddenly gotten busy with scouts running back and forth – and getting duly punished for that - a group of pyros wandered out of their base while our focus lingered above them. They jogged awkwardly, carrying their flamethrowers, weighted down by their cumbersome gear and heavy clothing.
They were not fast enough that we couldn't have hit them, the straight line they ran in was predictable as it was slow. We simply hadn't expected them. I think a few of us tried to fire at them, but they hit the pillars of the bridge, splintering old wood. By the time any of us would have had a clear shot, they had already slunked under the cover of the bridge's tin roof.
We didn't think much of it, other than the oddity of the rush. We let them slip out of our minds the same they had already done from our crosshairs. Dell would get whatever trickled past us. I remember perking my ears for the sentry gun stationed a floor below us. For the repetitive gunshots and the roaring rockets. The shudder of the old building when the meat met the metal as the turret would quickly unleash a barrage powerful enough to slam any attacker dumb enough to step forth against the nearest wall.
Nothing. For a minute, for the first time in months, Teufort was quiet. It got annoying quickly, causing unrest amongst us. I was the only one unnerved.
I remember Mundy leaning over the edge, muttering "Crikey…" I looked down as well. I regretted it and I'm not even afraid of heights. Right outside our doorstep, staring at us through those soulless lenses, a whole pack of pyros stood below us, sporting. It was new. Weird.
Just damn weird.
Not to be outdone, Mundy giggled as he dropped his jar of piss on them. No, don't ask. We have bathrooms. It's just something he does and swears by. That stirred them, but I don't think we can blame him for that. I don't think they were going to stay down there for long even if without the encouragement and I'm not much of a standard holder, I remember laughing heartily as the jar's contents spread on their rubber masks.
After that I don't remember things very clearly.
I do remember laughing in disbelief as they soared over us. The first one to land did that on top of the guy next to me. Realizing the tables had just turned, I made my way across the right side of the battlements to the left, dodging confused sharpshooters and the landing fire bats, rushing away from the dead-end on the right as fast as I humanly could.
I didn't really have the breath in me to laugh when the pyros doused the entire deck in bloody kero.
The escape is in my mind now nothing but a hazy corridor filled with smoke and hellfire, dodging balls of flame and watching as fellow snipers left and right of me succumbed to their burns. I'm still not sure why I did not. I got hit a few times when those mongrels showed us the full extent of their new gear.
In the end I managed to crawl my way down the stairs to Dell's little spot, where he patched me up. It's been a few hours since then, and I no longer need the dispenser to stay upright. They roam our hallways brazenly, but I know they have yet to conquer our intel room. If they had, I wouldn't be hearing a rifle shot pervading the base every few minutes before being drowned by the intense sound of the flames being spewed. If our other engie wasn't doing his job, the respawns would have already been shut down.
I don't think they can get to the Intel, not without a doctor, and I've been standing here by the doorway to our fortress for some time now, glaring at theirs through my scope. Ready to drop any travelling medicine man I spot. I'm not keen on letting any of them across, so unless they too have grown wings, they're not getting past the bridge.
Dell says he got a fax just now, they're telling us to hold tight till they can get a couple of pub-stompers here, which I think means those drunkards with the pipe bombs. They're telling us it'll be alright. That we'll get the situation back in control, that things will go back to normal soon.
As I watch another pyro take off from the ground with the rising boom of his thrusters, launching high enough to force me to blind myself with the sun tracking him, I don't know what mull they're smoking to say those things.
We might reclaim the base. We might even get the courtyard back. But hearing another pair of boots land on the wooden floor above my head, I know things aren't going back to normal.
The battlements are lost forever.
I really find it funny, like an era has ended in TF2. Who is going to be brave enough to stand in the battlements, scoping in fully knowing now PYROS can scale the walls up to your safe space? I have a funny feeling those sniper wars are going to come to a halt.
Also, I like how as a prize for winning that vote thing, pyros got what some heavies had been crying for years, a primary replacement that might as well be a heavy-duty shotgun. Enjoy that banana, you dull but reliable power class. Your turn will come.