If any of you are offended by the characterization of the RED Soldier, I sincerely apologize, and am in no way trying to promote racial discrimination through this fanfiction. However, this trait will become critical to his interactions with other characters and how that affects the plot as it progresses, so please try to bear with it.
-+G+-
Location: Badlands, New Mexico
Operation: Dustbowl, Stage 2
Date: June 30th, 1971
The enemy was repelled today. That was something everyone was thankful for. For now, the surviving mercenaries can enjoy their well-earned respite. Currently, most of the mercenaries are hanging around point A of the second stage of the RED Dustbowl Facility. This area forms the shape of an L, boxing in the mercenaries with a combination of wood and natural stone walls. The control point stood on an elevated position on a building in the outer corner, and a silo at the inner corner. If, say, the outer corner was on the North-west side, you will also find a two-room office on the north side and a shed on the south side. The office happens to be in the direction Heavy is facing. Currently, the Heavy was on point A, lamenting the ongoing war while the agonized moans of the RED Engineer (or was it BLU?) from within signaled to the world that he was still under surgery. In the last battle, they managed to somehow plant a sapper on the Engineer himself, seemingly sucking the life out of him. Removing it has quickly become an agonizingly slow process, as this was something no one, not even or the Medic, understood. Heavy was not entirely surprised. After all, it was a product of them.
Seven days. Seven days of fighting these…these…things! Not long after that giant of a hat flew overhead, 2Fort was suddenly lit up with teleportation lights and particles as they came into the war with no warning. No one knew what they were. The Medic coined the term Fractured 2nd rePlacements; everyone else called them F2Ps. The Heavy, however, knew a far less technical term for this kind of enemy.
Clones. Hundreds of them. Perfect physical copies of the RED and BLU mercenaries, with only one mission in mind.
Kill the mercenaries.
One day later, BLU ceased to exist. The sheer overwhelming numbers of this new enemy was able to bum rush every BLU facility in the Badlands. No one knew what happened to Blutarch Mann. That same say, the Administrator, as the owner of TF Industries and, by extension, RED Company, overrode Redmond's authority and started commanding the RED mercenaries as well as the ex-BLU mercenaries.
The next day, the F2Ps attacked the RED facilities. That was when the REDs and BLUs attained their first victory. For you see, BLU has never suffered a direct attack on its facilities beyond the property borders of RED and BLU, and was thus completely inexperienced in their defense. A consequence of the asymmetry of attack/defense missions. RED, however, was a master at defense. Its mercenaries had spent three years perfecting defensive tactics and strategies to stand against any oncoming opponent. And for the past five days, those skills have been put to the test against an overwhelming enemy.
The good news was that these clones were nothing like the original mercenaries on the battlefield. Their aim was sloppy, their positions extremely exposed, and their most sophisticated tactics were human waves. That meant that even though several dozen could be deployed at once, they were killed in droves so much that sometimes, six mercenaries would have sufficed.
The bad news was that it was the enemy was getting stronger. Early in the conflict, there were unconfirmed sightings of F2Ps displaying unusual abilities throughout the Badlands. This mystery would remain until the coalition of RED and BLU mercenaries encountered an F2P BLU engineer at the Badlands Facility.
-+G-+
Location: Badlands, New Mexico
Operation: Badlands
Date: June 27th, 1971
*Bang**Chick-chack* "Eff-two-pee down, move up!" the RED Soldier yelled, having blown apart an impostor BLU Scout with his shotgun. It went down in a bloody mess, its head still giggling with its disturbing Cheshire smile. That was the one bad thing about them. Though physically, they were the same as the original mercenaries, the F2Ps' minds were anything but. Almost all of the clones acted like complete psychopaths. While the mercenaries were no stranger to the joys of battle, these things took it up to eleven and beyond. Laughter and ecstasy were plastered all over their faces as they either fell in battle or killed one of the mercenaries. Not only that, they also displayed extreme sadism and sociopathy on the mercenaries, often trying to kill the mercenaries the slowest way possible. If any mercenary owned a bladed or jagged melee weapon, it's guaranteed that their F2P counterparts would deploy those en-mass. In fact, most enemies encountered were scouts equipped with Boston Bashers, wooden bats with metal stakes protruding all over them. These monsterous characteristics were so horrible, it even disturbed the Medic. Though these clones were lacking in the conventional warfare department, they seemed to have psychological warfare down to an art.
The Soldier tried his best to ignore the thing's maddening behavior, and motioned for the RED Sniper, the BLU Demoman, and the RED Scout to move up to the center point. The BLU Demoman, originally part of RED team, managed to escape the destruction of BLU and returned to his former comrades with open arms (with obvious exception to the Soldier). The two are part of the mission to encourage teamwork as such dire times demanded. So far in this operation, nothing has come up, as Soldier was too busy cracking skulls to harass his former friend
The sound of decompressing air and deactivating machinery came as the center light turned red, signaling the capture of this point. This meant that the team will respawn closer to the front lines and return to the battle more easily. Currently, the four-man team is in the Badlands Complex, the center of which was contained a train line with a point between two uncoupled flatcars on a wooden bridge. The squad's objective is to capture this base that was recently emptied of clones while they departed in the flying hats towards other RED facilities. Four was the maximum number of mercenaries that could be spared in order for there to be enough to defend the oncoming attack. If the team were to be able to both repel the attack and succeed in their counterattack, that denied the F2Ps one of their forward outposts and gave the REDs and BLUs an excellent staging point for future attacks.
An additional swarm of F2Ps, a mixture of Scouts and Soldiers, came in from dry river bed leading out of the BLU facility, right into one of the Demoman's sticky bomb traps. The explosion blew all but one of them into bloody bits, the one survivor a Soldier equipped with an Equalizer pickaxe. If he was horrified at the sudden carnage, he didn't show it, and only laughed in joy as he threw away his weapon and armed the grenade that was strapped to him and ran toward the mercenaries.
"Watch out!" The Scout said.
The Sniper was the one to respond, "On it!" He took aim with his AWPer Hand, and blasted the enemy's head off. The body slumped over, just a few yards away, and was blown to bits as the grenade detonated a safe distance away.
"Oi mates, is anyone hurt?" The Sniper asked, his hand reaching for his Cozy Camper. Normally, it granted him the ability to remain unflinching to incoming fire with whatever Mann Co. technology was put into it, but it now carried med kits for the team. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and disobeying the Administrator's weapons guidelines just might mean the difference between victory and failure.
"I'm good, mate," Demoman yelled.
"Ready to kick ass," Soldier signed off.
"I 'aint hurtin', so I'm fine," Scout remarked.
"Alright, I guess this means we get to the next point," the Sniper replied/commanded. Really, there was no designated leader amongst this group, the role of issuing orders or coordinating the team often jumping between squad members. It was, however, agreed upon that the Scout does not issue anyone orders. They were willing to put up his loud protests over letting an infant such as him boss them around.
The Scout was the first to move out toward the next objective, but stopped when he saw a new problem arise. "Aw man," the Scout yelled, "look at this crap." Scout was at the right-most entryway to the BLU facility, and on a direct course towards the next point they had to take. However, the only problem was that a barricade was erected in front of them. From one end to another, the entrance was blocked of by two dump trucks staked onto each other. They then tried to take the center pathway into one of the buildings, but it also happened to have a dump truck blocking the entryway too. The mercenaries had no idea how the trucks got into those positions, but it now meant that they had to take a detour through the river bed. Realizing this, the mercenaries groaned as they made their way down off the bridge and bellow into the valley.
While they were walking keeping a sharp eye out for enemies, Demoman decided to take up a conversation with his arch nemesis, the RED (BLU) Soldier. "Ey, Soldier, why'd ya take the deal?"
"What deal, maggot?" the Soldier asked in return, obviously not thrilled about working with the DeGroot.
"Ya know, the one where you got somethin' in exchange for fightin' me. Why'd you do that?" As much as the Soldier could not get over the feud between him and the enemy Demoman, the Demoman could not get over how the feud was started. He knew he took it because the Soldier did as well, but was uncertain whether or not he was in it just for the weapons, or because of something else. Of course, knowing Soldier, he would definitely be worked up over weapons.
"It's because of YOU! You betrayed me, betrayed our friendship, and showed the world what a backstabbing Negro bastard you are!"
"Bloody hell, mate!" the Demoman yelled, surprised by the sudden outburst by Soldier, and a little flustered by his harsh insult, "What the bloody yell are ye talkin' about?"
"You know what! You took the deal! You called me a bad friend! And worst off all, you! Called! Me! A! CIVIE!"
"Only 'cause you took the deal, and what the bloody hell are you talkin' about, I would neva' call ya a civilian. You're too much a bloody killer to be one."
"Well I-" the Soldier then registered Demoman's last sentence, "you mean it?"
The Demoman, ignorant of Soldier's sudden mood swing, continued, "Yeah, you go around, tootin' yer gun around, killin' enemies left and right with yer gun-ho attitude, you can only be a soldier. Why, if I were to call ya' a civilian, I must be drunker than tha time I kissed Engie." Now, the Soldier may be the most clueless mercenary out of all of them, but even he could tell how genuine the Demoman was being. His comment inadvertently praised how un-civilian Soldier's behavior was.
"Wow…I…never knew you felt that way about me," Soldier replied, suddenly feeling awkward about Demoman's praise.
"Look mate, I don't give a crap about whether or not ya joined the military. You're a mercenary, a killer. No real civilian could do that, only a soldier like yourself can. Heh, I must've been thinking about some other soldier if I thought he was a civilian."
The Soldier suddenly beamed, taking up Demoman's explanation. "Ah-ha, that must be it. You must have been so drunk, you were thinking of a different soldier. Why, it must be your old Soldier. Serves him right, dying at these things' hands." To be honest, Demoman wasn't so sure, only giving an example. However, the Soldier looked so proud that arguing with him seemed like a bad idea.
"Yeah," the Demoman affirmed, "that must be it." Demoman decided that it might have happened in one of his blackouts. He made a note to follow his counterpart and reduce his alcohol consumption if possible. Regardless, he was glad that he was at least able to bridge the gap with his friend, even if the bridge was very flimsy.
"So…you kissed the Engineer, eh? Hehe," and like that, the Soldier reinforced the bridge with some friendly banter.
"Ack, don't bring it up. The otha' Engie already heard of it, and was laughin' up a storm."
"Shh," the Sniper suddenly quipped.
Demoman continued, "By god, I can hear him laughin right now!"
"SHH!" The Sniper shushed more assertively.
"What?"
"Be quiet, wanka. I can hear it to," the Sniper then put his hand up to his ear, signaling to the others to listen. They stood there for a few seconds, before they heard a hearty Southern chuckle, exactly like the Engineer. The Sniper raised his hand up, his index finger pointing toward the forward BLU spawn point that led into the river bed and the crisscrossing platforms that stood over it. The location did not worry the team so much as the fact that it was an engineer. So far, not one was encountered in their battles against the F2Ps, and this may become their first encounter with one. Though a little nervous at what nefarious actions the Engineer would attempt, the mercenaries knew that now was a prime opportunity recon this new opponent while the enemy's numbers were low.
Through an unspoken command, the team crouched down and slowly approached the rolling shutter that separated the outside world with the enemy within. The Sniper switched out his AWPer Hand with his submachine gun, the close quarters too tight for the former to be handled effectively. They each lined up toward the entrance, the Sniper and Scout to the right, the Soldier and Demoman to the left. They each gave a nod to signal their readiness, and the Demoman put his left hand under the shudder and lifted it up, allowing the others to concentrate their weapons against what was inside.
As it was suspected, it was an Engineer. Currently it was facing away from the mercenaries, towards the wooden lockers. It seemed unusually relaxed, its arms limp behind its back, and its head hung down. The mercenaries were not entirely sure what to expect, as this was the first enemy that did not come rushing towards them milliseconds after contact. Another chuckle escaped from the Engineer, and it turned its limp body toward the mercenaries to face them. Like the others, this F2P had the signature Cheshire smile that was plastered over each and every clone's face. However, this smile seemed different from the other highly disturbing smiles the REDs and BLUs had to deal with. While other smiles made a promise to cause unimaginable pain if they get you, this smile promised pain when he got them, as if it had the power the others lacked to do so. A feeling of unease filled the mercenaries, and their heads started to feel woozy. Hallucinations started to play across their eyes. One moment everything seemed red, or black, or some other color, and then switched back to normal, and then back.
And then, it opened its mouth. "Ya'll about to have a real, bad day. Hehehehe, huhahaha, MUAHAHAHAHHA!"
*SLAM*
An unseen force blew the mercenaries out of the spawn room back outside, while the others fell into the river bed, the Soldier was blown out at a slightly higher angle. This resulted in him slamming his upper left arm against one of the platforms, crushing bone and muscle inside. A scream of agony escapes the Soldier, his arm broken, as he falls down to his comrades.
The thumb of Soldier's body manages to jostle the other into action. The Sniper sees the Soldier's injury, and proceeds to open up his Cozy Camper to retrieve the med kits. But before he could so much as move over to Soldier, the backpack was suddenly ripped of the Sniper's back and was suspended high in the air. It then suddenly combusted, showering the mercenaries in smoldering fabric and Mann Co. medicine. When the smoke cleared, the mercenaries could make out the enemy Engineer, levitating off the ground. Its smile still holding firm as it gave out another hearty (heartless) laugh. It then suddenly activated the ÜberCharge implant in its heart, covering it in a sheen of blue, metal-like armor, a red color pulsating from it every few seconds.
The Scout decided to voice everyone's thoughts at this moment, "I think it's about time all of you channel a little of my greatness and run like the wind!" For once, the Scout's advice was something everyone could agree with. With the help of the Sniper, the Scout picked up the incapacitated Soldier and made their way back to RED base as fast as possible. Meanwhile the Demoman made a fighting retreat as he launched grenade after grenade at the Engineer in the hopes of disorienting it enough to let them get away. Unfortunately, it did jack as the F2P continued to follow them at the same pace.
Soon, the retreating mercenaries made it back to the bridge, almost into the RED base proper. However, their plans were ruined once again when the trucks from earlier were lifted off the ground and thrown in the path of the mercenaries. Then, just to twist the knife a little more, the Engineer levitated the contents of those dump trucks for the whole world to see.
*Beep-Beep*
At least a dozen sentries, in varying levels, were aimed at the four mercenaries below. At the center floated the Engineer, its ÜberCharge still activated. Sparks of electricity were emitted by its body, striking at various points around the area.
This would be the first freak that the mercenaries of RED and BLU fought.
*BEEP-BEEP-BEEP**RATATATATATATATAT*
-+G+-
Location: Badlands, New Mexico
Operation: Dustbowl, Stage 2
Date: June 30th, 1971
"But it wasn't the last," heavy thought. Engineer's injury was testament to that. Those abnormal F2P, those freaks, were a cut above the rest, unleashing unusual powers to dominate the enemy. Heavy once recalled a clicking Soldier breaking his spine against a wall after politely declaring his desire to eat him. That Engineer that was encountered three days ago managed to permanently take off Soldier's left arm. Neither respawn nor Medi Guns seemed to help. Soldier, however, seemed unfazed, and has proceeded to come up with inventive ways to fight using his right arm and his mouth.
Still, it wasn't enough. The introduction of the freaks broke the stalemate, and were slowly carving away at the fortifications that held since the start of this new war. If they do not find a solution soon, the mercenaries may soon be out of their jobs.
Or worse.
-+G+-
Imaginary cookie to whoever can guess the significance of these dates.
