The Legend of the Demoknight, a TF2 Fanfiction. Chapter New Friends And Enemies, Chapter 1
Author's Note: Well as my first official fic I can welcome in a new dawn. This is in fact a Team Fortress 2 Fanfiction, featuring the Demoman. For those of you that don't know much about Team Fortress 2, browse around on YouTube and or the internet.
In general the worst thing that you will come around in this series is cursing. Lots of it, mainly because the Demoman is a Black, Drunken, Scottish Cyclops. That and that others have some attitude. Well I do not have much more to go over, so I guess you may as well start reading.
Quick Disclaimer: I know most people do this just for safety measures. I, in any way, do not control, manipulate, or own a share in Valve Franchises such as Team Fortress 2. Because honestly, if I did, why would I be on here in the first place?
It was my first day on the job. I had no notions to expect, considering my family desperately needed the money. I had taken the occupation as a Demoman in the infamous Ravenous Excursion District (RED) war against the Ballistic Legion Utility (BLU). I was joining the RED team, considering that it was my favorite color.
Ah perhaps I have not properly explained myself. I am Tavish DeGroot. I come to America from the Scottish Highlands in look of money for my deeds to the team. Considering I had taken a test to qualify as a Demoman, I was taking that occupation since the only two slots that were open were Demoman and Heavy, and I wasn't all meat and muscle. My family is in desperate need, and I had lost an eye in a mining explosion. I knew I had better chances of making more money in this way supporting the REDs. I was on the train ready to go. I had trained with training equipment, and found the Grenade Launcher to be of excellent use. However my other weapons did not seem too useful to me. The Sticky Bomb Launcher may corner sentries, but the damage output is low and the reload take too long. Well, I'm going to catch my sleep on the way to the base. I hope I didn't bore you to sleep with this rubbish.
I woke up as we were taking a stop. I saw that we were in a Russian town, not too far from where I boarded. I saw a big Red man walk in with a huge backpack and fingerless gloves. He had chains of bullets going down his armor, and was at least a good foot taller than me.
"Hello little baby man. Are you going to war with me?" asked the big guy.
"Well what team are ye' on lass?" I asked.
"Da. I work for RED. I see more opportunity on their side. Plus they offer good budget for trained killers," he answered.
"Oui! I am joining the RED team too as a new Demoman. I see you took the same reason I took the job," I responded. My accent was very weak and I knew it wouldn't appeal to the others.
"Ah! We will make good team in crushing tiny BLU team! I am new Heavy weapons guy. I come from mother Russia to earn great money in order to help parents. We are getting so hungry," he answered.
"Ah. That is a similar reason why I am here, as my family is homeless, sick, and has no resources. We're basically in big trouble lass," I answered. "So… What do you have in that backpack o' yours?"
"I carry all I need to keep me for the rest of this long trip," he answered.
"Ya, this trip is quite fucking long isn't it?" I asked. "It's about a couple of days from where we are."
"Da. At least train has storage for my Sasha," he responded.
"Sasha?" I questioned.
"She is my weapon. She weighs 150 kilograms and fires 200$ custom bullet cartridges at 10,000 rounds per minute," he replied. "It costs 400,000$ to fire this weapon, for 12 seconds."
"Wow. A little too damn expensive if ya ask me. I got meself a Grenade launcher, which I think works really well, a Sticky bomb launcher, which I don't find much use in, and a bottle of beer. Quite good scrumpy too," I responded.
"I can tell me and Demo will have good times! We are friends, da?" he said.
"Oui. We will be teammates until one of us dies," I replied. We shook hands and took our seats. The overhead beeped: "Welcome aboard: New Heavy. The estimated time of arrival is: 34 Hours."
"Shit. It will be long trip. Good thing I packed sandviches!" exclaimed the Heavy. He pulled out his heavy and handed out 4 massive square shaped sandwiches that had been cut in half. "Does little Demo want a sandvich?"
"Aye. I guess I could use some, considering I haven't eaten in a day," I replied.
"You have not eaten in a day? No wonder you are so small. It is funny to me. Here is a sandvich," and then he handed me a sandvich. I chowed down on that sandvich. In all the years I remember, it had to be the best thing I ever ate. I was so hungry I even beat the Heavy to eating the last crumb. Of course, he was going to have another slice.
"Ah my compliments to the chef. Best thing I ever ate! *Burps*" I commented.
"Thank you. Mother makes good sandviches. For black Scottish man you have good grammar. Did you attend school?" asked the Heavy.
"Oui. Now that I think of it though, I can't remember too much. Certainly though my grammar is fine," I replied. We then talked a bit more until it came down to a discussion on how the war even got started. We both didn't know the answer. We couldn't start a new discussion after that, so we both decided to get some rest. I then took a hit of my beer and then fell asleep.
Quick note. The underlined section is quoted by the Heavy in the Meet The Heavy video. Valve fully made up that line and I am merely quoting it. Continue on.
I woke up to find a new person on the train. Although he was a slightly shady figure, and I knew I would have to fight him since because of me and the new Heavy, our team would be full again. By the looks of it he was nimble and quick. Fair skinned, skinny boned, and a hat with an earpiece on the side. He looked very young. I then knew he was a scout. He matches the model of one you would see. He saw me and asked, "Yo' wassup? Workin' for BLU or RED?" he asked. Quite an emotionless child.
"RED. I'm their new Demo," I responded.
"I thought Demos were supposed to be drunken up Irish bastards. You look more qualified for a Spy than anything else," he replied.
"Aye! Watch that mouth on ye' kid! What kind of fucked up person would make that sorta' stereotype?" I questioned.
"Same person that would beat your drunken asses in every day. From what I've heard, the demos keep getting killed by the our Spy. The BLU one. I'm sure when you don't see it coming he'll just stab you in the back like all your other worthless teammates," he replied. I'm not getting a good liking from this kid so far. Very narcissistic about his team.
"Watch it lass… We're not on the battlefield yet, but tell me more about this BLU spy," I requested.
"Whatever you wish ya Deutch Bag. He's the oldest person on our team. He's murdered several heavies, demos, medics, snipers, and even some scouts on your team. He's rich due to his killing skills. However, that makes him a target, and he's become more paranoid. Rumors are stating he's going to retire any day now," he answered.
"How come he is so bloody rich?" I asked.
"Out there, the more people you kill, the richer you get. Your corporation pays you that money for each kill you usher. They work in a mannerly business to save money though. Such as putting the new members of both teams on the same trains. So, if you get many kills, the corporation raises your MPK, or money per kill. However, it is like a bounty hunt once you have so much fucking money. If someone on the other team kills you, not only is his MPK raised, but he also steals half of the money you earned. Your corporation won't send you back until you've killed so many of your members that you are practically a millionaire. He has been saving that money to take some lady he likes on a leisurely cruise, and give her the best he offers. He's quite a swoon if you ask me, but he's determined by love, and love does crazy things to your mind. He's roughly 5 more kills away from being able to retire and earn his money. No one has retired in a long time, so the majority of people on the battlefield right now have earned a crazy amount of money," he responded.
"How come no one has retired in a long time?" I asked.
"It's the stupid reason why less men are coming out here. They see more interest in those who are skilled enough to get enough money. So what they do is they coax them with promises of high salary, and see if they can get an almost impossible amount of kills. So much that almost no one can get half of all the ones they need. Needless to say, the money keeps floating around in between teams until someone is lucky enough to retire. Usually people get roughly 2-5 kills before they die. You need 50 kills in order to retire for your class. In fact, different classes have different MPKs and different retirement requirements. For scouts, the MPK is usually 10,000 per kill at start off. A good scout may get his up to 45,500 MPK if they've killed a few people. They need 40 kills to retire. The scout earns more MPK and has less kills to retire since we often have the hardest time killing people. Your MPK will probably be 8,500. If you do well, you should have an MPK of 38,000 by the time you get killed," he answered.
"I won't be getting killed any time soon. At least, I don't plan on it. Why did you come out here?" I asked again.
He shrugged and said, "I had no other options. I joined the army and I'm an orphan. I was the last in my unit so I left and now I end up here. As for your heavy friends status… They have an easier time so they usually have a 5,000 MPK to start. Eventually they can get up to as high as 50,000 MPK, but the retirement requirement is absolutely ridiculous. They need 100 kills to leave."
"One hundred? That there be some serious bullshit!" I exclaimed.
"I know. Let alone, Medic is the hardest class to retire as. Medics' MPK is the highest of all classes, at 12,250. Once they get some ubers and a couple of kills, their MPK goes up to roughly 40,000. They have a slower rate. However, in order to retire, they must activate 70 ubercharges, and kill 40 people. Quite a daunting task if you ask me. As for spies, they have a moderate MPK, along with a slightly more reasonable retirement requirement. The MPK to boot is 7,500, and at this point, our spy has roughly 1,200,000 MPK. They need to rack up 120 engineer items destroyed, which isn't as hard as it sounds, and kill 40 people, like mine," he responded.
"This sounds like a freaking war game. In the end, it just takes forever for someone to win, and when that one person wins they go home a hero. It's not bloody fair. At least some of the team should get some of that person's money!" I exclaimed.
"I don't really care about your issues. I just wish that was true for us. If he retires, he goes home with roughly 9 million. At least give your team a share of that!" raged the scout. He has quite an attitude. I don't think he'll get along too well with his teammates. "I guess I'm just kind of mad. So hey, I'm willing to at least make a truce for a while. First week on the job, and we don't kill each other. After that, we chase each other around as much as we want. Deal?" he asked.
"Sure. I don't see why not. After all, maybe the corps can take a lesson from that," I assured.
"Cool. I'll see you later. This train gets off in about 18 hours," he then went to the back of the car after saying that. So I was asleep/hung-over for a while. Bloody hell. I'm addicted to that beer.
"Ding!" beeped the overhead. "Welcome passengers. We will be arriving at, RED vs. BLU war field in roughly, 9 Hours. Please stay seated as the ride continues." I had been talking to the heavy and every now and then the scout for the last few hours. I got some sleep, and we were 9 hours away. Something confused me though. Why would the war field be so far away from any signs of civilization. It was confusing, really. Honestly, why do they locate a war field two fucking days away from a recruitment area? Do they not want any civilians to be killed? It isn't like a foreign war. Hell, I don't even know what they are fighting over!
"Is little Demoman okay?" asked the Heavy. "You have been muttering to self for long time."
"Oui, I'm fine Heavy. I've just been thinking about this war that's going on," I answered.
"Demoman thinks hard? I thought that Demoman do, not think," he replied. Where do people keep getting these bloody superstitions? Just because we like to drink and we usually are missing an eye doesn't mean we don't think. I mean seriously, I love the Grenade Launcher due to the ability to bounce off walls. You think that take blind luck? No! we are all bloody smart enough to calculate where a flying bomb goes.
"No! WHERE THE HELL DO THESE PEOPLE KEEP GETTING THESE FUCKING SUPERSTITIONS!" I yelled.
"Calm down Deutch Bag. It's just that your kind of group is more stereotypical than others. Every group has some sort of stereotype on them. Scouts are narcissistic, soldiers are diehard patriots, pyros are insane, demos are what we just described to you, heavies are fat, engineers are Texan cowards, medics are mentally insane, snipers are just weird, and spies are just plain French assholes," shrugged the scout.
"… It still don't make no sense to judge a series of people based on what they heard," I replied.
"Many men do it. It is just instinct and nature of men and women," explained the heavy. Before the conversation continued, something odd happened. We both started to feel the tram shaking. The overhead then beeped: "Warning! Warning! Malfunc-func-tion-ing… Please evacuuuaaate . FNSH!" the train immediately rammed into full speed. It was going at least 10 times as fast as it was than what it was at earlier. It continued to run faster and faster, until it was so fast that the force was strong enough to rip our cable car in half. "Shit! Demoman!" exclaimed the heavy. I was on the half that the heavy and the scout weren't on.
"You gotta' jump man! We'll catcha'!" promised the scout. I had no other choice. But it was too long of a jump. I then had an idea. I took out my sticky grenade launcher and placed a bomb. This was going to hurt like hell, but, I detonated it in a way that it launched me just hard enough to jump to the other tram. It hurt my ass quite badly, and I may have sprained something but, the two of them caught me, hauled me on and then the bottom half of the trained slowed down and drifted off into the distance. The overhead then beeped again: "Reeeeeeeeeeeeeegainering staaaable conconconcondiiiiitiions." Sure enough it was nowhere near stable. It still didn't slow down at all. I was afraid the sheer force of movement was going to continue pulling the trains apart, one by one. However, after a minute of high speed railing, it started to slow down to its regular pace. "Destininininination arrrrrrival in roughly, 1 Hour. Asssssured accurrracy is had has been assur- BZWRRT," beeped the overhead until it shut down. It was accurate all right. I saw the insignia of an American Flag waving high above two enormously large buildings. We had finally made it, and in one piece.
"Well… there it is. The place where we either go to hell, or become rich as hell," I chuckled.
"Da. It will be a long war. We may die. But we will try best not to die! And crush baby BLU team!" exclaimed the Heavy
"Whatever lardfat. I just hope I don't get killed within the first week. I wouldn't even get a chance to fight demo over here," he answered. I now finally saw some respect in that child. It pleased me. My statement was true. So was the heavy's. It will be long, hard, and where we try to crush BLU. However, we may die in our trial, or may go home millionaires in success. Either way we have killed many, many men on the way there. This war was going to get bloody, and the three of us knew it. Whether we make it through the first day, or whether we die when there is one last kill to get before we retire. This was the beginning of our impact.
That would be it for chapter one. I hope the readers enjoyed this story so far, as it did take a few days' worth to make this chapter. Soon I will be coming out with the next chapter. Aptly named, this chapter was, "New Friends, and Enemies". The next one is called, "Too Vile For Newcomers". As I mentioned, this will be a long series, so you might as well prepare to raise your patience to the highest level, as this will be a long, hard, exhausting campaign of a fanfic.